Summary: After falling off his broomstick, Harry goes blind, but gains "the sight" in return. Professor Trewalney couldn't predict this.

Pairing: Harry/Luna

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, something for which I am sure JKR is thankful.

Chapter Seven: Mad-Eye

The first rays of sunlight crept through the windows, illuminating the hidden figure crouching in the shadows.

Harry was sleeping restlessly, tossing his head anxiously from side to side. His face was ashen and pale, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he muttered incoherently in the midst of his nightmare.

The figure deftly approached Harry's bedside, and a soft clunk echoed through the room every other step. Upon reaching the bed, he jolted Harry awake with a sharp motion.

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Harry awoke to an unfamiliarly cold, firm hand on his shoulder and a sense of primal panic was awakened. He swiftly sat up, simultaneously drawing his wand from under his pillow, and pointed in the direction of the intruder's hand.

"Put that away, Potter," a said firm voice.

'Moody' Harry recognized immediately, and lowered his wand in relief. His heart was still racing though, and he could swear that his entire body was shaking with each heartbeat.

"Listen up," the ex-Auror demanded, in a tone that left no room for a choice.

Normally, Harry was not a very good listener. In fact, he had loads of experience not listening. But despite this tendency, Harry found himself hanging onto Moody's every word.

"Dumbledore has arranged for you to be sent away- far away- away from prying eyes and nosy ears," he paused for a moment and lowered his voice even further so that it was barely audibly to Harry, who was no more than a couple of inches away. "Take this portkey," Moody spoke urgently, placing a round object in Harry's hand discreetly and holding onto it. And without any warning whatsoever, Moody whispered "Sherbet" and Harry felt a familiar, yet uncomfortable pull at his navel as if being sucked into a vacuum.

He landed on a hard, stone floor. Luckily, or rather, unluckily for Harry, his back was there break the fall.

Porkeys were never his preferred method of transportation.

A rough, calloused hand helped Harry onto his feet, and it took a moment for Harry to assess what he could of his surroundings. Well, the floor was pretty damn solid, for starters.

"We're in a Safe House, warded by Dumbledore himself to keep Death Eaters, reporters, and You-Know-Who out," Moody said, answering Harry's unspoken question. 'And to keep me in' Harry thought sullenly.

"Why am I here?" Harry asked, figuring that he may as well find out now rather than later.

"To train," was the concise answer. Harry heard the rest of the sentence that was implied… 'for the final battle'.

"When do we start?" Harry questioned, somewhat dreading the answer.

Hardly a second went by before Moody replied, "Now!" and sent a jet of red light towards Harry.

Harry felt the rush of compressed magic streaming towards him, like a bullet in slow motion, and jumped out of the way. Behind him, Harry could hear a piece of the stone wall crumbling.

He didn't have much time to register his shock that Moody was attacking him, because more spells kept coming, one after the other, and sometimes even two simultaneously. Harry's heart was pounding even harder against his ribcage now as he moved faster and faster as the pace of the spells increased. He even resorted to hiding behind a table he stumbled into to catch his breath.

Harry was panicking, and his sweaty hand held his forgotten wand limply at his side. He was on the defensive, and his only goal at the moment was not to get hit by one of Moody's spells, all of which were probably dangerous, if not deadly.

His mind was reeling with frantic thoughts, all the while sending messages to his body to keep moving…

'Was this really Moody?'

'Was it all a set-up by Voldemort?'

Harry cursed his own stupidity for taking a portkey from Hogwarts- where he would have been safe, where he wouldn't have spells shot at him from every direction...

'I'm going to die.'

Harry silenced these negative thoughts in order to focus on the sound of each spell shooting towards him. He concentrated on the sound of the air being displaced, the magic crackling like channels of electricity…

He heard the clunk of a mechanical leg moving, the vibrations of each spell impacting the wall and echoing ominously throughout the room.

Finally, Harry was hit by a body-binding curse and fell backwards like a tree falling in a forest. Harry winced as his frozen body hit the cold, hard stone once again. He sat there, vulnerable, holding his breath…

'I'm going to die.'

The thought raced across his mind like a mantra, and the acceptance of the fact did not ease Harry's nerves. Harry did not fear death, for he had faced it and come to terms with it long ago, but he never thought that he would die like this, paralyzed, not even able to see his attacker's face.

Then, Moody murmured a spell, and Harry felt a tingling sensation return to his body. He regained the ability to move, and immediately scrambled to his feet. Finally remembering the wand in his right hand, he brandished it towards where he thought Moody was, his hand shaking like mad.

"Relax, Potter," Moody said from behind him in as non-threatening of a tone possible, "I'm not going to hurt you. Do you really think I was aiming for you?" Harry lowered his wand slightly in surprise as Moody continued, "If this had been a trap, you would have been already killed. Next time, when someone offers you a portkey, be more cautious," he reprimanded.

'This was all a lesson' Harry realized. 'That was all a test'. He felt a surge of anger at having been strung along, at this entire ridiculous situation. But then, he realized that the ex-Auror was right. It was frightening to consider the possible consequences of taking another portkey straight to Voldemort, but this time, blind.

Moody had been impersonated before, by Barty Crouch Jr, and, well, Harry didn't want to dwell on those memories. If this had been a set up, Harry would be dead, simple as that.

"Although," Moody reflected, perhaps feeling obligated to be uncharacteristically optimistic for Harry's sake, "Your reflexes seem to be far above average. That's a fairly good start".

'The result of dodging Dudley's punches for years' Harry thought bitterly to himself.

Harry heard the sound of Moody's artificial leg clink against the stone as he walked to the table Harry had taken refuge behind earlier. Moody conjured two stiff wooden chairs- 'nothing like Dumbledore's squishy armchairs' Harry thought as he sat uncomfortably- and two cups of lukewarm tea, and the two of them sat down to business.

"Well, now that you're finally properly awake, we need to set a training agenda," Moody said seriously, as if they had just finished a sick version of a warm up.

But Harry did not feel awake at all… he felt exhausted. The idea of going back to Hogwarts, crawling into his warm bed, sliding underneath the soft cotton sheets and falling back asleep, however restless that sleep may be, was irresistibly appealing. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be an option. Perhaps a stiff wooden chair and hard table would have to do…

"We need to start with Defense," Moody began, and Harry heard the scratchy sound of an inked quill against parchment. "Dumbledore explicitly said to emphasize that…"

At this point, the only thing Harry was interested in practicing was his well-developed powers of not listening.

To his credit, he tried to keep his head up in vain, but the adrenaline rush that had fueled him earlier was wearing off. Eventually, he gave into the gravity pulling his eyelids down and pushed his worries temporarily to the metaphorical cupboard in the back of his mind where they would haunt his subconscious.

"…Transfiguration can also be helpful- dead useful, in tight spots…" Moody continued. He paused momentarily to glance at Harry, who was strangely silent.

Moody immediately saw why. The boy was slumped over the table, his mouth slightly open and eyes closed. He felt a twinge of compassion towards the boy as he began to snore lightly, and couldn't bring himself to wake Harry up.

Moody knew that, for the next several weeks, Harry would undergo brutally intense training, more difficult than that in the Auror camps. And Moody recalled vividly how vigorous that place was…

All of the new Auror trainees had crowded through the single door leading into the conference hall for a supposed "Orientation Meeting". The trainees had sat there, twiddling their wands mindlessly, when the lights suddenly went out, leaving nothing but darkness. Before anyone had a moment to say "Lumos", the hall was illuminated by spells of every color flying through the air. The trainees, who had all been at the top of their classes, were reduced to a frenzied mob.

That was their entrance exam, their first lesson in the Academy, and a painful lesson at that. The Aurors told them never to walk into a room without mapping out possible exits or planning an emergency escape route first.

Alastor never made that mistake again.

At the end of the "meeting", a quarter of the trainees were left standing, and accepted into the Auror Academy. Alastor Moody had been one of them, and he was still standing today, even though most of his comrades and peers had fallen long ago.

Fighting dark wizards was by no means fun, it was certainly not easy, and it didn't really pay all that well either. It was necessary to their very survival

The Wizarding World had needed Aurors to fight back then, just like they needed Harry to fight now. And Moody would teach him how to do it, for his fighting days were drawing to a close just as Harry's were beginning.

In a rare display of affection that Moody would never have shown had Harry been awake, he transfigured a cup into a blanket. He draped the blanket over Harry, and it enveloped him like a thick, warm cape.

'Yes, transfiguration is very useful' Moody thought to himself quietly as the corners of his scarred mouth were pulled into a smile. 'Let him sleep for now.'

And he walked out of the room, the only sounds were the soft clunk of Moody's leg and Harry's soft snoring.

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AN: A HUGE thanks to my wonderful reviewers last chapter:

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