A/N:Hello again everyone, wanted to publish this chapter yesterday, but well, things always have a habit of popping up unexpectedly. Thank you all for your kind reviews, I'm so happy to know you're all enjoying this tale. This chapter will be a little different than the others since it's a different POV than Harry's, but worry not, next chapter will once again have Harry going about his crazy schemes and hi-jinks once again. I hope you all enjoy!

And now…

Onwards…

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling

In which not all aurors are idiots

Life was easier when things were black and white.

It used to be so simple, evil and good, light and darkness. One of them he would kill and capture, the other would be his friends, the innocent few who he would give his life to protect.

He had spent years carefully building on his beliefs. Months spent in the darkest recess of his world, tracking the monsters who dare to prey on the innocent, the monsters who would laugh in glee as they tortured a child, or raped a poor woman for the power it gave them. He had lost count of just how many of these vile men he had willingly killed, standing over their corpses with no small amount of relief at the fact that never again could they harm someone, never again would he have to go to a family and tell them of the horror their child faced in these men's clutches. His magic and spirit may have been light, but that did not mean he would hesitate to kill a man who thought to do grievous harm to another.

It had been so simple, so simple to tell the difference in his youth.

It had been so simple to never double guess his decisions. He more than any other knew the true differences with dark and light magic, knew how if someone went too far down either path they would turn into the very monsters he captured and killed. And so, he did his duty for his country, for the children who could go to sleep each night knowing they were safe from harm; with their parents watching over them as they entered Morpheus's realm. For years, he did his duty without question, never once doubting that his beliefs would always hold strong and true.

To think, it had only taken a small, half starved, six year old runt with wide green eyes to turn his whole world upside down.

He had been such a fool.

He'd thought it a ruse at first, when he'd overheard a few coworkers whispering about it in the mess hall. He'd thought it a great practical joke they planned to play on him, to tease him once more over his exaggerated paranoia.

He wasn't deaf after all; he'd heard all the things they said about him. Mad-eye Moody, paranoid auror, crazy old coot who would shoot someone just for looking at him funny; some of the runts at the training sites had even taken to calling him Mad-Eye, foolishly believing it to be his name. At first, he'd shrugged it off; everyone earns a name once they've been in the job long enough. So while he hadn't approved, he didn't remark on it either, his job was his life, he lived to make sure dark wizards couldn't go around harming the innocent.

He lived so that he could take down those monsters that preyed on the defenseless, so that perhaps… Perhaps one love struck fool wouldn't have to learn the true devastation that comes from losing their heart. They would never have to experience the torment of each day going home to an empty house, hearing whispers of a young love filled voice from days long past. So that they would never have to lie alone in bed at night, reaching out to grab a hand no longer there, straining their senses to catch a faint whiff of a familiar rose scented perfume…

He didn't care what anyone called him, as long as he could prevent others pain and heartache, they could very well call him the same as those he hunted, and he would merely shrug off their harsh taunts and carry on.

And so believing it to be a simple ruse, he ignored the whispers, the hushed laughter at the thought of actually persecuting a child who couldn't even carry a wand yet. Everyone knew the ministry was corrupt, and filled with numerous problems, but it couldn't be that terrible. No one in their right mind would arrest a child, the mere thought was outrageous. And so everyone simply enjoyed the great joke for what it was, laughed for a while at the thought, and went about their day as they had always done so.

Not even Dumbledore, who could be found lacking at times, would allow for such a thing to occur. The benevolent man believed in justice, he would never allow for an innocent to be taken to that hell on earth. Never.

It was ridiculous.

And so, he'd brushed off the outrageous claims and gone back to his business, training the runts at the academy and hoping they lived long enough to survive their first battle. Hoping that they remembered everything he taught them, that none of them froze the first time they bore witness to the true horrors that lurk in their world. He tried his hardest not to get too close to any of them, not to learn their names, what made them laugh or why they were upset. He couldn't afford that type of connection… not again. Not after the war.

He enjoyed keeping his life simple, and simply going about as he had always done. Which was why, when he turned up to work one day… his heart stilled as he noticed a startling difference from the day before.

The rumors… had all suddenly stopped.

To the unobservant, it would have made sense, the joke was outrageous, and after hearing it a few times, it started to lose its hilarity. Besides, no one wanted to give the auror department a bad rep, and a joke like that, if only one person took it seriously; would do just that. So to many outsiders, it simply seemed as if everyone had suddenly lost interest in the silly joke, and things went back to normal.

But he hadn't lived so long by being unobservant. He took note of the shifty eyes, the uncomfortable looks a few of the younger aurors gave their commanding officer, with guilt written clearly on their young faces. He paid close attention to the whispered murmurings of the higher up in the wizengamot, how they all seemed much too pleased with themselves. But most especially, he watched as overnight, over half and inch of paperwork suddenly disappeared off the Head Aurors desk.

The whole thing reeked of a cover up.

And so, he took a leave of absence from the academy and asked to be put on guard duty in Azkaban for the next few months. There were a few wry remarks at his abrupt change in heart, as anyone who knew him well enough understood his loathing for that dammed prison. Most of his coworkers simply smiled smugly, each of them believing he wanted to torture the criminals, rub their faces in the fact that he was the one who put them there. After all, he wasn't called Mad just because of his eye; many of them who had fought with him in the war knew just how deadly he could be.

In return for his quick transfer, he let them believe whatever they wanted to; let them make up all sorts of wild and outrageous rumors. It just made his task that much easier.

In all honesty, he had no clue what he expected to find in that rotten prison. He knew half the prisoners there, especially the ones kept in the uppermost floors were completely mad, having lost any vestige of sanity long ago. And the rest… with the constant visits from the dementors and the rotten food they were fed, they were already halfway there. With the piss poor conditions all of them were purposely kept in, along with the daily visits of the dementors, it truly was a miracle of the worst kind when any of them lasted longer then the five year mark.

A six year old boy locked up in that hell… he wouldn't even last a week.

As many do, unless given permission otherwise, he made his way to Azkaban by boat. The decrepit ferryman smiled grimly at him as he went aboard, showing off his rotten or missing teeth. A thick fog hung in the air and for a moment, he was reminded of the Greek myths his muggleborn mother would read to him as a child. Where a ferryman would carry the dead over the river Styx, as long as they could pay their way. If not… their decaying souls would haunt the river, attempting to drag others souls to the watery depths. The harsh ocean, with pitch black waters and turbulent waves, made him wonder if perhaps there was some truth to the myth, and were he not cautious, a decayed hand would quickly grab hold to his living flesh, and drag him under to his demise.

The shore was covered in a thick fog, with only the light of a few patronus were around to guide his way to the entrance. A rather weary looking rabbit twitched around his feet nervously as it gestured with his body the way forward. Large pillars of rock and salt lined the small island, sure to cause harm to any fool who dares test his courage amongst the ancient stone. Gravel lined his way forward, the harsh crunch of the stone pebbles as he walked on seeming oddly foreboding. A guard came up to greet him as soon as the stone castle came into view. He was a young one, probably had just finished the academy, unfortunate of him to be stuck with this position just as he graduated. Moody stared at the boy's stricken expression, how his chocolate skin seemed to turn sickly pale with each deranged scream that reached their ears, how his body flinched violently when a dementor drifted too close.

The kid was too young to be working here.

Coffee coloured eyes widened in recognition as he limped forward, his wooden leg acting up from the chill. If anything he seemed to pale even more as he stood up straighter, trying to seem more capable than he truly was. It was hard holding back a smile in amusement as the runt stammered incoherently.

It was obvious that he had trained this runt, and even more obvious that the kid remembered his preference to no nonsense when on duty.

"A-are you here to see him?" The kid stuttered out, his teeth clacking from the cold of the sea and the dementors that flew over their heads.

Moody froze, he had been hoping… until this very moment he had been hoping it really was just a horrible joke. He had hoped that all he would do was walk around the prison, keep an eye on the more dangerous prisoners, inspect the stone structure to make sure it was secure and go home knowing he had just been paranoid as usual, nothing out of the ordinary.

"I was… I was here when they brought him in." The boy continued, nervously blabbering on in the silence ensued from his admission. "He's so small!"

It had to be a joke.

"I mean, they can't… they're not really going to leave him here right? A kid?! Here!?"

He was just being paranoid, just living up to his namesake.

"Me and a few others gave him one of the larger cells, transfigured a bed for him and everything, the damn kid looked like he was going to tear up over having a bed! A bed of all things!"

There's no cover-up, he'll be going to his empty home after this, safe in the knowledge that he's doing good for the world. That everything was still as it should be, that nothing was terribly wrong.

"We try and give him snacks every now and then, keep the dementors away from him as well, Michael… Michael told me the other day how the kid was bouncing off the walls in excitement, over the fact that he was finally allowed to eat pudding…"

He was going to go to his empty home, with empty picture frames. Knowing that everything was alright, good and evil, they were still completely different concepts. The bad went to Azkaban; the good… the good went…

"Merlin… it was just a terrible mix-up right? I mean, the ministry has to know this is outrageous right?"

When he went home today, would he hear her voice again, would her scent haunt his dreams once more? What would she think of him now?

"He's just a kid Moody… He's… Merlin… My own cousin is older than him!"

Moody swallowed thickly and finally looked at the kid in front of him.

He was too young for this job.

And Alastor… Alastor was too old.

Far too old.

He nodded once, knowing he wouldn't be able to speak just yet. Regardless the kid still looked at him with an expression of relief and gratitude.

It made him feel guilty, so he quickly looked away and entered the dark castle, with the sound of screams greeting him with ever step he took.

Was it illegal to kidnap a kid that technically doesn't exist? A child who the government had washed their hands of and hidden away, like a dark secret never again to be mention.

He stood by the wrought iron doors, feeling numb as he stared at the small child within as said child stared back.

He was small. Wild, curly black hair lay atop of his head in a mess of knots and tangles as he looked up with the largest green eyes Moody had ever seen. He had a small button nose and the type of cheeks that old hags would pinch as they crooned at him and gave him candies to munch on for his troubles.

He shouldn't be in a prison cell.

He should be outside, playing gobstone with his friends, running around making mud pies and asking for hugs and kisses when he injured himself.

He shouldn't be here.

Who the hell would put a child in prison?!

He had tried to find the court proceedings, tried to find out what possible explanation there could be for arresting a child.

He couldn't find any mention of it.

As far as the wizarding world knew, the kid didn't even exist.

"Excuse me sir?"

His voice was soft and much too polite, a kid his age should be shouting, laughing loudly as he drove his parents mad with his endless energy.

"What?" He answered gruffly, not taking his eyes off the too small child, eyes narrowing in on the faded bruises on his arms, the few cuts he had on his chest and the long deliberate scars peeking out from his collar. A few of them were still a violent red, he made note to get some potions and balms soon.

This shouldn't be happening.

A child his age should never even know the meaning of the word pain; he should be protected and coddled, cherished and loved by his family.

"Are you evil too?"

Moody blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected that question, but then again, perhaps he should have. He knew how disfigured he looked, like a monster from a fairy tale, eager to kidnap misbehaving children for his supper. He'd lost count over the years of just how many children had run away after seeing his face, screaming in terror as they ran for the comfort and safety of their mother's arms. But this kid, he didn't look scared at after asking his peculiar question, only curious.

"Why you ask?" He questioned back, not wanting to answer, not right now, not when his whole life was falling apart at the seams around him.

Why had the ministry done this?

Why hadn't Dumbledore stopped this from happening?

Why did no one fight for this child?

"Because!" The boy remarked happily as he jumped off his bed, his dark curls flying about haphazardly around his head. He grinned crookedly as he walked up to the bars, no fear showing as he moved closer.

"I'm a dark lord, so I'll need followers once I take over the castle!" With that the child held his hand out, close to the bars as he gestured for a handshake. "My name is Harry Potter, and I think you would be a wicked follower, I bet no one would dare challenge you!"

And with that, his whole world finally fell apart.

What world did he live in? What society would willingly lock up their own savior, a child who can't even perform magic yet?! The boy a Dark Lord? He knew more spells to cause death and pain than this child could even imagine. He doubted the boy could even read properly yet!

How far they had all fallen, that his world had come to this...

He reached out mechanically, his large hand practically engulfing the child's own.

"That's what you're in here for eh?" He asked the excited boy, his mind shutting down as he looked into those now familiar green eyes. Green eyes he had once seen in a spitfire of a woman, a woman he had been proud to help train and call a friend.

She had been so young too… were the good all fated to such a cruel fate?

What would she think of this?

What would… what would his- Emily think of this?

The boy smiled brightly as they shook hands and nodded his head eagerly. "Yup! The people in funny dresses helped me figure it out!" His eyes went wide as he leaned in to whisper. "But don't worry, I already have a master plan! I mean, what sort of Dark Lord would I be if I let those guys win?!"

Moody forced a smile as he ended their handshake. "Not a very good one, I suppose." He murmured absently, his eyes distant as he took in the boy's words, as the puzzle in his mind slowly clicked into place, revealing numerous horrifying truths. He paused; amazed at child's beaming expression.

Who could possibly be happy in this hell… what was his life before, to believe this to be home?

Slowly he reached through the bars and ruffled the boy's silky locks, amazed at how soft the hair felt between his fingers.

He's just a boy. Just a small boy all alone in the world.

The child's whole expression changed, going quickly to shock and awe, then to a forlorn stare filled with longing as those green eyes watched him pull back his hand from behind the bars.

He couldn't take this.

He wasn't strong enough.

Had anyone ever even given him a hug, had he ever been touched with warmth and affection? Or had it all been done with the intention to cause harm?

There were too many unanswered questions in his mind.

Too many questions that he feared the answers to.

And so, with one last glance at those large green eyes, he walked away.

The long trek back to the entrance of this thrice damned castle was silent save for the noise of the prisoners. His mind was in chaos, filled with images of a small boy who didn't even reach his hip, of a child who was so happy to have his own room, to be able to eat pudding and to no longer have to work in order to live.

A child who considered hell on earth their home and sanctuary.

His eyes met with coffee brown orbs, and instantly he saw understanding and pain in those eyes.

He wondered if his eyes looked the same.

The young man walked towards him, shoulders drooping as he noticed Moody was alone. The runt took a deep breath, seeming hesitant before finally asking the one question haunting them both.

"Moody… we're… we're the good guys right? I mean… this… this is just a terrible mistake… Right?"

Moody turned to look at the kid, his mind still on wide green eyes, on a child who had unknowingly destroyed everything he had once thought he knew.

"I'm not sure anymore."

A/N: I hope everyone has enjoyed this chapter and that it wasn't too confusing. Harry thinks with a completely different mind frame than the adults he interacts with, so what he sees is completely different at times than what the adults are noticing. I thought this chapter would be good to give a small bit of explanation on why Moody is seeing Harry, and why it seems no one is concerned with the fact that a six year old is rotting away in prison. Thank you for reading this tale and please leave a review if you've enjoyed it! I always love to read them as they fill me with so much joy and motivation, thank you.

Till next time…