Unrequited: I'm a Veteran. Seen it all. There's only one thing worth remembering: Auror has to make sacrifices. Sometimes that means dying…sometimes it means watching others. Neither's easy. HBP, Moody and Tonks. Every Auror has a weakness…what's yours?
Petrol. Grease. Fresh-baked bread. Smell again. Your nose ain't been wrong before.
There it is. Something ain't right.
Been on the job long enough to sense it. The unease. The quiet. That down in the gut instinct that tells you the predator's done stalking. It's waiting to pounce. That silence before the spring...
Takes a long time to hone that sense. Few in my line of work live long enough to experience it. But it's that blind instinct that saves a man. Makes him dodge a Killing Curse in the dark. Warns him trouble's around the corner. Tells him when to sit tight and when to let all hell break loose and damn the consequences…
Sense like that makes you a veteran. But veteran makes you old. Tired. Stiff. Makes you suspect things in the shadows, hear whispers in the dark. Pretty soon you second guess yourself. You slow down. Take it careful.
But you can't play this game careful. You hesitate on the field, you're dead.
And yet you've got to be cautious-
Hell. I'm getting old. Don't know anymore. Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong.
…I pray to God I'm wrong.
But deep down part of me knows. Has always known. Has watched too many good men die. Knows you don't live long enough to be as scarred as I am in this business without the guts for it. Cassandra, I feel your pain. There's only one thing worse than the storm, and that's watching it come in.
And this is a storm. Hell of a storm. About to break loose right on top of us…
It's coming. Don't know what, but it's coming. And whatever it is, it's bad. Very bad. I feel in my bones. What's left of them.
Damn. Can't rest. Can't eat. Can't focus. Something's coming. Something big. And it's coming fast.