25 January 1970
"Are you sure you don't want to go back to England for your friend?" asked Martha.
"Rufus will understand, I've told you this before," replied Alfred.
"Why do you call Rufus by his first name and you only Moody by his surname?" asked Thomas curiously.
Alfred shrugged. "I'm not really certain why. I don't think Moody's really sure himself, seeing as he calls me by my surname usually too."
"Even back in Hogwarts?" asked Thomas.
Alfred nodded. "In all honesty, that's probably where it all began."
"Thinking sentimental thoughts?" asked Thomas, noticing Alfred gain a thoughtful expression and a slightly glazed look in his eyes.
"And what's wrong with that?" asked Alfred back. "Sentimentalism helps to stay in touch with the emotions, at least for me. We're all human beings-our emotions help make us who we are."
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with that," said Thomas, "though I will say you have made a fair point."
"Anyway, how much longer should setting up the magical protections take?" asked Martha, changing the subject.
"Todd's going to be starting on the 1st," answered Alfred, "and given everything that we've informed him about the whole place, I'd say it should take him about eight to eleven weeks solo. We haven't hired him to set up a lot of enchantments, which is why it isn't taking longer, but what he will be putting up will be quite strong, similar in strength to what Moody has up at his house, or the Potter Residence."
"Ah, okay," said Martha.
"I take it that the Potters are another family of wizards with money?" asked Thomas rhetorically, glancing at the two wizards.
Alfred gave a nod of confirmation. "They're not ridiculously wealthy, but they have enough money to live in comfort for the next 30-40 years without working if they spend wisely, and while one of them was on the Wizengamot, there's nothing else really notable about most of them."
"Okay," accepted Thomas. "So they've yet to produce someone who is genuinely worth mentioning in the history books?"
"For now, no, not yet," answered Martha.
Alfred nodded in agreement, but added "But in dangerous times, well, anything can happen."
"You're not going to let anyone else convince you there won't be a war happening in Britain, are you?" asked Thomas with a rhetorical tone.
"As I've said before," replied Alfred, "when you take a really deep and hard look at everything, then it's painfully obvious that it's going to be happening soon. So it'll be a really good thing when Todd's finished setting up the protections-it gives us all a bit of a safety net here."
Thomas looked at him quizzically. "You mean to say you think that the wizards that're behind everything in Britain, including your leg, might try to come here?"
"Grindelwald didn't restrict himself to Europe when he waged war," said Alfred. "He was active in America right under MACUSA's nose for a while in the '20s. And I doubt this up-and-coming Dark Lord's going to be much different."
"Yes," said Martha in agreement.
"Correct me if I'm wrong-Grindelwald was basically almost wizard Hitler, right?" asked Thomas.
Both Martha and Alfred nodded grimly. They both remembered those days with little mirth or nostalgia. They didn't bother to correct Thomas regarding the comparison between Grindelwald and Hitler-even Grindelwald, when he learned of the true purpose of the concentration camps, was said to have been sickened.
"And if this wizard and his followers happen to be as bad as he was, or maybe even worse, then virtually nobody in the world will be safe."
He looked at Thomas. "You understand enough?"
Thomas nodded, before he asked another question.
"What makes you so certain they'd come here? They'd probably love how for so long, the Magical government kept the Magical and Non-Magical worlds apart here."
"They're certain to come here, in my opinion," replied Alfred seriously, "because the law enforcing the partition of both worlds, although less enforced since the 1940s, was only repealed in 1965, and so there's bound to be several wizards and witches in America who would like to either see the old ways return, or a full rebellion a la Grindelwald to subjugate the Muggles. In that case, depending on how many of these wizards are working in MACUSA, then that little band of terrorists shouldn't find it too hard to get themselves some moles.
"And should whoever found Martha for her parents either gets caught and interrogated by them, or worse, joins their ranks," he concluded, "then there's a very good chance, to me at least, that they may try to come here."
"In that case," said Thomas back with a truly sober expression and tone, "when Todd's done securing this place, get him to do Martha's art studio too. I don't care how much extra it costs-they are not taking her. Not to kill her, not for ransom, not while I'm alive, and certainly not in this city."
"You don't have to do that," disagreed Martha quickly. "Of the three of us, you're the one who can't use magic-you're the most in danger."
"Martha, dear," said Thomas, "they'll be after you. If they want to get to you, they'll have to kill me. You're worth the risk. And there're enough criminals living in Gotham City already as it is."
"Do you mean the petty crooks or do you mean the gangsters?" asked Alfred.
"The gangsters," replied Thomas, "always the gangsters. Compared to the syndicates, the petty crooks are just a symptom."
"And what are six Italian Families, one Irish Mob, one 'Kosher Nostra', two Asian syndicates and a black gang, all present in one large city, meant to be?" asked Alfred. He was still educating himself on Gotham's organised crime syndicates, seeing as wizarding Britain had few (if any) counterparts (he and several other Aurors had some knowledge of the Kray Twins' antics in Muggle London, though).
"They'd be a cancer," answered Thomas. "A disease. Unfortunately, seeing as they've a lot of hooks in the police department and other branches of city government and infrastructure over the years, then there's a fair chance that they're incurable."
"He's right," added Martha darkly. "When I first came here, they accosted me at least twice a week for 'protection'. I may not use my wand much anymore, but really, they're the ones who need it."
"And you plan to do something about it, I imagine?" asked Alfred.
Thomas nodded. "Yes, Alfred. Yes, I do. And most of that revolves around one simple thing: poverty."
"Ah," understood Alfred. "I think I understand it."
"You understand that Thomas wants to use the Foundation to build good-quality low-income housing and provide the poorer people here with secure work?" asked Martha.
"Yes," replied Alfred. "By doing that, you're giving them a lifeline out of poverty, which is important, seeing as the economy here looks to be going downhill, and thus, with that lifeline, you reduce the influence of the Mafia and other organised crime syndicates."
"And when they've more money, they'll want to use it to ensure their children get the best possible chance in life," continued Martha for Thomas. "So-and this is something Thomas's father wanted to do with the Wayne Foundation back in the '50s-we'll find the best and brightest of those kids and give them a chance to attend the best schools in the state. That way, they can get out and really make a mark on the world. We've thought about the other children, too-we'll set up a vo-tech school so they can learn more practical skills that'll help them when they start working."
"You two have thought long and hard about this, haven't you?" asked Alfred with a smirk.
"We have," replied Thomas, practically grinning. "People are embarrassed to admit they come from Gotham. Hopefully, if we get to do this, that will change. And anything that kicks organised crime in the teeth is always welcome."
"Add to that the most important thing-the children in the worst parts of this city get to have a real future," concluded Martha.
'More proof they're good people,' Alfred though silently. 'They'd be great parents if they felt like it.'
29 January 1970
"Fuck me, that stuff doesn't look appealing at all," muttered Alastor Moody, watching through the window into the operating theatre as the Healer placed one of Scrimgeour's ribs in the jaws of a bone cutter.
Two of the three other Aurors present-Robards and Longbottom (a handsome young man with light brown hair who had only finished his training in the past few months, alongside both Robards and Shacklebolt)-gave disapproving looks at Moody's use of profanity, as did Crouch and DMLE Head Bob Ogden (formerly of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol), while Auror Shacklebolt appeared not to either notice or care.
Only the French Healer had been allowed inside the operating theatre and had cast every cleaning and scouring Charm he knew to disinfect and sterilise the whole room and all equipment brought within. He had also taken great care to cut open the skin and muscle above the rib cage and open it like a bloody suitcase, while surrounding it with charms to ward off infection. Once he had done those things, the comparatively easier job of removing the jelly-like rib cage could begin.
"You do have a point, sir," agreed Longbottom, wincing slightly as the cutters closed on the base of the rib. "This is very uncomfortable viewing."
"Why are we even here watching this…gruesome task happen?" asked Ogden. "I've a meeting with the Minister in half an hour."
"Have you prepared for that meeting, sir?" asked Crouch.
"Yes," replied Ogden. "Yes, I have."
"Then you have no need to leave for another 20 minutes at the most," said Crouch back.
Inside the theatre, the Healer cut another rib, further separating the still-damaged bone from the vertebrae.
"Well, you're here out of sympathy for Rufus Scrimgeour, I imagine, Mister Ogden, sir," said Moody, "while Crouch is here either as a symbolic show of support or to give himself a better public image."
Crouch sent Moody a threatening glare as the Healer approached another rib with the bone cutter.
"The Skele-Gro will work, won't it?" asked Longbottom anxiously, his brown eyes looking down briefly.
"When doesn't it work?" asked Moody rhetorically, turning to the younger man. "At some point in your career as an Auror, Longbottom, you've got to taste it. And believe me, it ain't easy on the tongue."
"If I recall, Auror Moody," Shacklebolt said, "you've yet to taste Skele-Gro in the line of duty. So how do you know about it?"
"Long story, involving Hogwarts," replied Moody, "and you're not getting any more out of me than that."
None of them sought to press the matter further.
"How many more ribs are there left to be cut?" asked Robards, hands in his coat pockets.
"Eight," replied Crouch stoically. "Think of this as good training for when you see a dead body in a similar appearance, gentlemen."
Ogden sent a rebuking look at his Deputy for his cold remark.
"Scrimgeour is one of the best Aurors we have," he said. "You are not using this situation to teach the Aurors an unnecessary lesson."
"Indeed, sir," agreed Longbottom. "We all know the risks, and by God and Merlin, we will accept them if they befall us."
Moody gave a small nod of approval. His respect for the young Auror was growing.
"Well, I suppose I'd better head off for the meeting with the Minister," announced Ogden after a few minutes of silence, glancing firstly at his pocket-watch, and then at the clock on the wall. "My wife will be coming by in an hour with flowers for Auror Scrimgeour."
"I think I ought to leave here as well," said Crouch. "There is still some paperwork in my office which I need to finish."
"Thank you for your genuine and believable show of support," remarked Moody.
"Thank you," smiled Ogden sincerely as he left, while Crouch sent Moody another glare.
A few seconds later, the two high-ranking Ministry officials exited the room and left the four Aurors alone in silence.
A few minutes later, Moody turned to the other three and asked, "I know you've said you're ready to die as Aurors, but do either of you happen to be scared about whatever'll happen next? The idea that we're on the verge of all Hell breaking loose and we mightn't be able to stop it?"
Both Robards and Longbottom nodded. Kingsley looked to be in thought, appearing to be searching his feelings, for several moments before nodding in agreement.
"We'd all be fools not to be scared of what's coming, sir," he said.
'Good,' thought Moody silently, 'That means that I'm not alone, then.'
An hour later, Moody, still standing upright, was the only one left watching the procedure in front of him.
He could tell it was now almost over-the Healer had managed to cut through the entire rib cage and preserve the original, and was now restoring the skin and muscle over the now-defenceless and open cavity as another Healer came in carefully with a bottle of Skele-Gro for the unconscious Auror to consume through a tube. This slow process of regrowth would probably take a day at least, and so, recognising there was no reason left for him to stay, Moody slowly left his guard at the hospital.
30 January 1970
Rufus Scrimgeour opened his eyes slowly and groaned-partly in pain, partly from having not moved for weeks and thus feeling stiff.
"Easy there, Auror Scrimgeour," said the Healer standing over him. Scrimgeour glanced up with his blue eyes. He recognised her as the same Healer who had been with Alfred when he had visited him with Moody and Crouch.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
He gave a nod. "Good," he replied with some weakness. "A little bit sore in the chest, but still, good."
"Well, seeing as how that's a brand new rib cage in your chest," said the gruff voice of Alastor Moody, "it'd be a surprise if you didn't feel any pain there whatsoever."
"Jesus Christ, Moody," muttered Scrimgeour, turning his head slowly to look at his colleague in the Auror Office. "How long have you been standing up there?"
"A full minute," replied Moody bluntly.
"Wonderful," said Scrimgeour dryly. Moody ignored the comment.
"Well, Auror Scrimgeour," said the Healer, "you should be very happy to know that your ribs are now fully reformed. It may have taken an entire bottle of Skele-Gro to do so, but we at Saint Mungo's are going to treat your survival and successful recovery as a victory."
"How so?" asked Moody.
"Well, even if it took us-by which I mainly mean my superiors-several days to think of the solution we eventually used," answered the Healer, "the fact that we carried it out and succeeded means that should that spell be used again, at least we have an idea what to do now."
"I'm a little disappointed that that breakthrough wasn't hit upon sooner," said Scrimgeour, noticing the Healer's identity card fastened to her uniform, "but the feeling of 'better late than never' is somewhat larger, Healer Meadowes."
Moody sniffed.
"Don't mind him-he's just glad it wasn't too late," Scrimgeour said to the Healer.
"I'm aware of that, Auror Scrimgeour," replied Healer Meadowes. "Now, while your bones have obviously regrown, we will still not discharge you immediately: if you rest for today and allow them to finish hardening and strengthening, as well as allow us to submit you to diagnostics, you should hopefully be discharged by the 1st."
Scrimgeour and Moody accepted this explanation. "Okay," said the former, as Healer Meadowes walked away to talk to another patient.
Scrimgeour looked at Moody. "Why is it you're less suspicious of Healers than your Ministry co-workers?"
"One-because Healers actually work for the betterment and care of wizarding society," replied Moody. "Two-Aurors can justify murder as self-defence, while Healers cannot justify a patient suspiciously dying on their watch. They'll look either incompetent or may have had a hand in it."
"Decent points," remarked Scrimgeour. "Anyone find the people behind it?"
Moody shook his head. "All Aurors not on duty were recalled after what happened in Diagon Alley and it looks like they'll be having all FED Aurors working back home once they close their cases."
"So basically we're on war footing now," surmised Scrimgeour.
Moody nodded. "Not yet, but we will. Shame for Alfred-he should be enjoying his retirement."
"Something's not happened to him again?" asked Scrimgeour worriedly.
"No, no, no," denied Moody, "it's just because of all this shit going on, I hear he's fortifying his new boss's place with enchantments and charms to make it as penetrable as Hogwarts on a good day."
"I take it then he thinks something'll happen?" asked Scrimgeour again.
"He's feeling anxious, from what I know-as if something big could be coming around the corner soon."
"He's not wrong there, if his leg and my ribs are anything to go by," Scrimgeour quipped.
"True, true," agreed Moody. "So, do you have plans to follow Alfred out?"
Scrimgeour shook his head. "No. Crouch isn't going to want another perfectly capable Auror to go before his time. Also, we all knew Alfred had plans to retire from the service at some stage. I don't, and I know you well enough that you don't plan to either."
"What're you implying, Scrimgeour?" asked Moody suspiciously.
"Nothing, Moody, nothing," answered Scrimgeour. "Just that, should worse come to worst, we're going to go down fighting."
"Even after where you are now?" asked Moody sarcastically.
"I know you're being a sarcastic prick," replied Scrimgeour, "and that you don't really think I'm going to leave, but I signed up for the Aurors so that I could do my country proud. If that means suffering grievous bodily harm or dying, then so be it."
Moody just smirked. "Too close to succeeding Langarm, aren't you?" he remarked with humour.
Scrimgeour rolled his eyes. "They can always pick you, you know. You're more than capable for the job."
"Yeah, right," replied Moody. "You're better at co-operating with the bureaucracy. Crouch and Ogden look at me like I'm a bloody maverick."
"They're not half-wrong there," remarked Scrimgeour.
"My point being, you're the safer option," continued Moody, "and right now, that's a good thing. You can be the bridge between the bureaucracy and us-the other Aurors, the boys on the front lines. God knows we'll need that when the shit really hits the fan."
"You're certain?" asked Scrimgeour, as Meadowes returned, a small purple bottle in her hand.
"Yeah, I'm certain," confirmed Moody. "There's still the kid from Cokeworth too. You ought to check on him yourself sooner or later."
"I'm already being told monthly messages by the social worker about him," replied Scrimgeour. "Apparently, he's happy, if a little withdrawn."
"Still better than leaving him with those rat bastards," said Moody.
"Yes, indeed," agreed Scrimgeour. "I hate what would've happened if he'd been left there a few more years."
"'Not well' is my guess," replied Moody.
"That'll do."
"So, Auror Scrimgeour," said Meadowes finally, "I've been speaking to my superior, and when you're discharged, you'll have to take this potion twice a day for the next week, and he and I would both advise that you avoid strenuous activity, both physical and magical."
"That sounds alright," agreed Scrimgeour, while Moody nodded. "Will that be all?"
"Yes," nodded Meadowes, giving a warm smile as she left the bottle on the bedside table and walked away again to tend to another patient.
AN: The characters used are the property of Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, Scholastic and DC Comics. They are not mine, nor will they ever be mine.
Remember, your reviews are welcome.
Thirdly-have heard great things about Cary Fukunaga. Hope he does great on Bond 25.