Author's Notes:

A very quick message I felt compelled to write that is not related to the story at all.

It has not escaped my notice in recent months from looking at the stats that I have more active readers following my little story from Australia than any other country in the world.

I have not yet had the chance to visit, but it is certainly on my bucket-list of places in the world I would one day like to see and explore - and I have lots of friends who have visited on holiday, or in some cases spent years of their life in your beautiful part of the world through travelling and work etc.

What is happening in Australia at the moment is not just truly sad, but also truly scary.

My thoughts go out to everyone who has been affected by this horrible tragedy and I hope that all of the Australian members of the fan-fiction community stay safe during these troubled times.

Dean could scarcely believe it, but it really had been just over a month since the events of the Battle of Hogwarts.

The castle and grounds were almost unrecognisable from the state of death and destruction he had last seen them in. He wasn't sure who exactly had overseen the repairs and the clean-up operation, but whoever it was had done a damn good job.

It seemed from the Ministry presence on the entrance gate that Hogwarts was still in a state of quasi-lockdown, with a keen-eye being kept on anybody coming in or out, which seemed understandable given that reports in the media suggested some prisoners were still being kept in the castle.

Dean and Seamus had been locked in a hot debate about that at work the other day, with Seamus arguing that it was probably the Ministry itself leaking out that information to keep the rogue Death Eaters guessing as to the whereabouts of their captured comrades.

Dean himself though that was a pretty ridiculous idea, but their boss Hestia Jones had very sternly urged them to stop talking about the subject when she had overheard them, so perhaps there really was something in it after all.

As he made his way towards the castle Dean spotted the gigantic groundskeeper Hagrid strolling towards him in the distance. It was a bit hard to tell from so far away, but from what he could make out it looked like Hagrid was dressed about as smartly as Dean had ever seen him.

"Alrigh', Dean?!" he cheerily bellowed out from afar with a huge smile on his face, as Dean warmly raised his hand in acknowledgement whilst a few small birds quickly scattered away in fear of the sudden loud noise.

"Good to see you Hagrid!" he added once they had gotten a bit closer together, as he studied the outfit of his former Care of Magical Creatures teacher in more detail. It wasn't quite as smart as a suit, but it wasn't that far off it. Wherever it was he was going or whoever it was he was meeting it must be something or someone very important.

"Fancy seein' you 'ere! You've not gone and got yourself a job at the ministry as an Auror too, 'av ya?" Hagrid enquired once his big strides had taken him to just a few feet in front of Dean.

"Not quite," Dean replied, as he observed that Hagrid even seemed to have trimmed his scraggly beard and bushy hair for whatever occasion it was. Maybe it was his birthday. "I have got a job at the Ministry, not as an Auror, but I've come to an arrangement where I can work part-time and finish my studies. I'm here to see Professor McGonagall about it."

"Oh, well, that's great news on the job at the Ministry… and it will be nice to have a familiar face around 'ere next year."

"Thanks, Hagrid." Dean responded graciously, as Hagrid appeared to be deep in thought.

"But if you're 'ere to see Professor McGonagall for a one to one meetin'… that must mean… that must mean… oh no I betta' not say. I'd get in trouble if I told ya! I'm sure she'd like it to come from her, not me," Hagrid said with a guilty look written across his face.

"Has she not had many students in for one to one meetings?" Dean asked with a slight tone of panic in his voice.

He had thought it seemed a little bit strange when he'd received his invitation in the post for this meeting with the Headmistress, but he mused it had been an extraordinary year, so maybe she was having these private one on one meetings with lots of people ahead of the new school year.

"I expect I've already said too much… best leave the Headmistress to explain," Hagrid replied sheepishly. "Anyway, 'fraid I can't stay to chat too much… got me big day at the Ministry. Won't want to be late for it!" he added, as a booming smile returned to his grizzly face that still nursed a few reasonably fresh wounds and scars.

"Your big day at the Ministry?" Dean asked. "Are you… are you-

"I'm gettin' me pardon!" Hagrid burst out before Dean could finish asking him if he was about to get married – perhaps Hagrid's interruption had been for the best.

"I told Minister Shacklebolt he really didn't hav' ta', that I didn't want no fuss or nothin', but he kept sayin' it's what Dumbledore would'a wanted for his most trusted friend," Hagrid added, before tears quickly appeared in his eyes.

"That's great news, Hagrid!" Dean said. "So that would mean you could get a wand and… and

"Legally practice magic just like any other witch or wizard, that's right!" Hagrid beamed with pride. "Me old Dad would be so proud a' me. Gonna buy meself a bottle of the finest fire whiskey Diagon Alley has t'a offer t'a celebrate… I'll stop off and get summat nice for Fang too, he ain't been eating right since the battle, reckon it was the stress of it all, but a nice bit of steak and he'll be happy as Larry I reckon!"

"I don't think any of us have been right since that battle," Dean pondered, as the two shared a remorseful look. "I'm sure you're right though, a bit of steak will sort anyone out, man or mutt! Best of luck Hagrid, you deserve it!"

"Thanks, Dean, means a lot," Hagrid mustered, possibly about to start crying again, before patting down on Dean's shoulder and strolling away towards the entrance gate.

"Say…Dean…" Hagrid added.

"Yeah?"

"It'd sure be nice to see a familiar face or two when you're all back at school and what not… by all means… if you'd like t'a visit t'a hav' a chat or a drink or what not… don't be afraid t'a knock on my door."

"That sounds great," Dean replied. "I'll definitely take you up on that offer," he added honestly.

He hadn't really given it too much thought, but he supposed his dormitory would be completely empty with none of Seamus, Neville, Harry or Ron returning to school with him.

It would be good to have someone to talk to – and Hagrid seemed like as good a companion as one could wish for.

He would certainly have some interesting stories of his ventures in the war.

"Ta ra, now, wish me luck!"

"Good luck, Hagrid!" Dean hollered as Hagrid strolled along out of sight.

Dean noticed two other ministry officials standing guard at the nearest doorway into the castle, both of whom seemed deep enough in their own conversation that they didn't at first notice him.

"I'm tellin' you mate, if that had been a muggle bomb like that prat Peasegood reckons then poor Joshy Morris would've had his arm back by now. It ain't an easy process and it certainly ain't a pain free one, but no dark magic… no problem… that's the general rule of thumb!"

"I don't know Jeff… it sure sounded like a bomb the way he tells it, like. Oh-

The two ministry workers cut their conversation short when they noticed Dean just a few yards in-front of them.

"Are you McGonagall's two o clock? Dean Thomas?" the taller of the two asked, suddenly sounding a lot more official as he carefully examined a piece of parchment in front of him.

"Yeah, that's right-

"Very well, lad. Come on through. Password to her office is Dashwood."

The first thing that Dean noticed about McGonagall's office was the large assortment of dark, wooden bookshelves, all of which were filled with old-style hardback books. It was not so much an office as it was a private library.

He had never been bad, or indeed, "good" enough to warrant a trip to this office when Dumbledore had been running the school, but he had still never heard Harry or Ron remark of how many books Dumbledore had stored in there. They would only ever mention the large portraits of past head-teachers or Dumbledore's pet phoenix – but McGonagall did not seem to have either of these curiosities on display.

"Ah… Mister Thomas… you're right on time… excellent," the headmistress said, as a small smile appeared on her wrinkled face. "Please, take a seat," she added, offering him a comfortable looking arm chair that sat opposite her grand marble desk.

Dean thanked her and took his seat quickly, as his eyes still wandered around the room, eventually finding a portrait of Albus Dumbledore sat sleeping near the back corner of the room.

He felt a little nervous given what Hagrid had let slip to him earlier.

It still didn't make any sense to him as to why McGonagall had requested an audience with him in person.

Maybe she did not want him to return and had brought him here to break the news to him face to face.

"Now… I must first make an admission that I was a little surprised… pleasantly surprised, of course… but all the same… I was a little surprised to hear of your interest in returning to complete your studies,"

"Oh-

Dean felt his hands tremble slightly with nerves.

It seemed stupid to be worried about something so stupid given all that he had been through in the last year.

In that moment, with his palms softly sweating in his lap, he slightly regretted ever considering coming back to school in the first place.

It made him feel hopelessly young and like a child again to be worried about something so trivial in the grand scheme of things, but maybe being able to worry about such trivial things instead of war-time worries of the threat of death was part of the appeal of coming back to school in the first place.

"You must forgive me if you interpret that as a denunciation of your academic prowess as a student Mister Thomas," the Headmistress quickly interjected, which reassured his anxiety about the situation a little.

"As your former Head of House I am well aware of your capabilities as a student, particularly in my own class, but it has not escaped my notice that much like your old dorm-mates you have been granted employment at the Ministry of Magic… and I had assumed, perhaps, that much like Mister Potter, Weasley, Longbottom and Finnigan… that you may also have not wished to return to Hogwarts to complete your education… which would be perfectly understandable given the circumstances of course. But it seems you have chosen to buck the trend of the boys that I once acted Head of House to…. if for nothing more than to satisfy an old woman's curiosity, may I ask why?"

"Why I wanted to come back?" Dean asked rhetorically, as McGonagall studied him intensely.

"Well I guess my parents have always pushed on me the importance of getting an education. My Mum would go mental if I never finished school, even if I do have the job at the Ministry."

Dean momentarily thought back to the moment that Minerva McGonagall had first met his Mum and Step-Dad when she'd delivered his Hogwarts acceptance letter.

"And yet Mister Thomas, I sense you have far outgrown the period of your life where you may let your Mother's opinions seriously influence your life decisions," McGongall replied as she read straight through his hastily prepared response.

The headmistress was right of course.

He was just a bit hesitant to admit the real reason and motivation for his return.

His head was filled with emotion as he thought back to Ted Tonks berating him when he'd first told him that he had no interest in ever returning to Hogwarts even if You Know Who did lose the war.

McGonagall eyed him with much interest as he paused for time a little longer, before he decided against his better judgement to open up to his old Head of House.

"It's just… well… if he'd… if You Know Who had won then I wouldn't have even had the choice, would I? The people who followed him and fought alongside him… they were the reason that I couldn't come back for my last year in the first place. They didn't think I should be here. But a lot of people… good people, fought and died, at least partly so muggle-borns like me could be here at all… I feel like I'd be throwing it all back in their faces if I then didn't even bother to complete my education after all that."

Dean hadn't meant to rant as much as he had.

It just sort of all came out.

He had been too caught up in controlling his emotions and trying not to cry that he had not given much notice to how McGonagall had reacted, but upon meeting her eyes he discovered that his monologue had in-fact caused a tear to form in one of her eyes instead.

"Beautiful," she whispered. "That really is quite…

The headmistress desperately sought to regain her composure, reaching down for a handkerchief to wipe the tear from her time-worn face.

"A fantastic answer, Mister Thomas… one that also reassures me that I have not made a mistake by inviting you here today… for I felt of what I am about to ask of you, and indeed my earlier guest, was perhaps a little too important to be discussed with the two of you by post."

Dean still did not have the faintest idea of what she may be referring to.

The two of you?

Who else was there and what could possibly be so important that it required a one-to-one meeting to discuss it?

"From the vacant expression you are wearing I assume you have not figured it out yet?" McGonagall questioned, as Dean shook his head blankly.

"The wit of a Ravenclaw you may not possess, Mister Thomas, but the bravery and determination that you have shown in the last twelve months undoubtedly make you the stand-out choice to be our Head Boy for this coming school year."

"Head boy?" Dean involuntarily uttered out loud in complete confusion.

"Yes… and whilst it may seem a somewhat trivial role in the grand scheme of things, given everything that has happened… I imagine there has scarcely been a time in this school's long and decorated history where the Head Boy and Head Girl of Hogwarts will have had more responsibility placed on their shoulders. I can assure you, Mister Thomas, this is not a proposal, nor indeed a decision that I have made lightly."

Dean was momentarily lost for words.

He had not been quite sure what it was that McGonagall was going to ask of him, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he was being headhunted to take on the role of Head Boy.

"Well, Mister Thomas, do you accept?" McGongall eagerly enquired.

"Err…yeah…yes, it would be an absolute hon- err… Thank you, Professor," Dean managed to stumble out.

"Excellent," the Headmistress replied quickly, as she retrieved a scroll from the top of her pile.

"Please sign your name and date here…here… and here," she said, as she passed him a piece of parchment and a quill whilst pointing to several different parts of it.

Dean signed and dated the scroll carefully, as he tried his best not to make any smudges.

He never had quite got the hang of writing neatly with a quill and ink.

"That's lovely, Mister Thomas, thank you kindly…. I must confess I am awfully proud to have two Gryffindors as the first post-war Head Boy and Head Girl… of course I did hand-pick the two of you myself, but I must confess that I feel pretty confident that there will be no outcries of bias in who I have chosen."

McGonagall's admission that the Head Girl was a fellow Gryffindor only confirmed Dean's thought that it must be Hermione Granger who she had chosen.

Harry had spent a lunch-break at work with Dean and Seamus just a few days ago where they had discussed Dean returning to Hogwarts – and who of their year may be joining him, with Hermione winding up being pretty much the only other person other than Dean and the Patil twins electing to return.

Hermione did seem the most logical choice for Head Girl.

It couldn't really be anyone but her.

Even if you disregarded the part she had played in the downfall of You Know Who, as a student in her own right she had undoubtedly been the best in their year since the first day of school all those many moons ago.

There wasn't really any competition.

"I'm sure Hermione and I will do the best that we can for you, Professor," Dean said confidently, as he felt himself brimming with pride at the sudden thought of the responsibility his former Head of Year had placed on his shoulders.

McGonagall laughed softly.

"A very well educated guess, Mister Thomas, but, upon her own request following her initial expression of interest in returning to complete her studies… your class-mate Miss Granger was not considered for the position of Head Girl."

"Oh," Dean murmured, as he let out an awkward laugh to cover up his slight embarrassment.

"My choice for Head Girl was actually in the year directly below your own… but fear not Mister Thomas, as I have no doubt that you and Miss Weasley are well acquainted from your time spent on the Gryffindor Quidditch team together."

Ginny!

He was going to have to share duties with Ginny?

It was no wonder Minerva McGonagall had hastily forced him into signing on the dotted line as quickly as she had.

Why did it always have to be Ginny?

The wind blew quite firmly at the top of the hill that overlooked The Burrow in Ottery St Catchpole.

Dean nervously checked his watch, before he saw her approaching in the distance.

Ginny's fiery red hair flew across her face almost as fast and violently as she did across a pitch when playing Quidditch.

It was hard to gauge her expression from as far away as he was, but she did not look too happy.

He awkwardly held up his hand until she spotted him.

She did not wave back.

This had not been one of his better plans, but it was the only reasonable one that he could come up with.

Maybe he should have just asked Ron instead, but somehow he felt that asking him could have been an even worse idea.

And at least with this plan if it did backfire he at least got to see Ginny.

"You better have a bloody good reason for-

"This isn't what it looks like!" Dean quickly interjected before she lost her rag at him.

"This isn't what it looks like?!" she raged, causing those cute little dimples to form on her freckle-ridden face. "You send me a letter completely out of the blue begging me to meet up with you. You say you can't tell me why. You say you wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent?! Look, Dean, I'm sorry how things worked out with us, but I'm with Harry now and-

"I'm not trying to get you back!" Dean interrupted in a slightly raised voice, which momentarily stopped his ex-girlfriend in her tracks.

"Then what could you possibly want from me?!" Ginny asked in an indignant tone, as she angrily crossed her arms across her chest. "Is it an apology? Is that what you want?!"

"No! I don't care about that. This isn't about you," he said in an increasingly frustrated tone.

"This isn't about me, no? Then what is it about? Did you want an invite to my brother's wedding? Did you want me to-

"I need to speak to Mad-Eye Moody!" Dean angrily announced over her protests.

That really did silence her.

She looked at him in complete and utter confusion.

"Your parents… I remember you saying that they're friends with him. Do you think you or they could arrange for me to meet him… please?" Dean asked, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt.

"Mad-Eye? Mad-Eye? What could you possibly want to talk to Mad-Eye Moody about so desperately?" Ginny asked in a very probing manner.

"I can't say," he answered quickly, hoping to elude any further questioning.

"You can't say?!" she replied in the characteristically incredulous tone that she often adopted when arguing.

"Look. Do you think you'd be able to help me or not? Do you really think I'd be here if I wasn't desperate? I promise I won't bother you or contact you again, but please, please can you help me with this?"

Ginny huffed, then once again gave him a pretty confused look, before rolling her eyes.

"My Dad's home at the moment," she began in a resigned sounding tone. "I can ask him if he can arrange for Mad-Eye to meet you, but I can't promise that he'll be able to talk him into it… Moody's not much fond of strangers at the best of times."

"Alastor! Alastor!" Mister Weasley called politely into his fireplace.

It burst into life, as it quickly took the image of Alastor Moody's scarred and gloomy face.

"What is it?!" he barked in his thick Scottish accent.

Arthur Weasley turned briefly to give Dean a rather strange and inquisitive look, before looking again at his fireplace.

"I've got a young gentleman here… friend of Ginny's… he's requested a meeting with you."

"I'm a busy man, Arthur. I don't have time to take meetings with school-children."

Arthur shot Dean a quick, awkward grimace.

"I understand that he has something very important to discuss with you."

"What is it?!"

"I'm afraid he says that he can't say," Arthur replied in a somewhat sarcastic manner.

"Oh for fuck sake," Moody snarled, as his fireplace face turned to look outwards a bit more, before he spotted Dean.

"What do you want with me, boy?!" he demanded, as the fire spat slightly.

Dean looked down fearfully.

This may be his one shot at convincing Moody to meet up with him.

He thought telling a white lie might be a bad idea, but he had to get his attention enough that he would give him an audience in person.

"I… I… Zacharias Smith mentioned that his Uncle was looking for-

"Put him through Arthur!" Moody quickly growled through the fire, as he eyed Dean with a curiously furious rage.

"Put him through now."

"Very well, Alastor," Arthur responded, as he eyed Dean very curiously himself, before reaching out for a small bowl that Dean soon discovered was filled with the Weasley's supply of Floo Powder.

Dean did not often travel by Floo-Powder and he had forgotten the awful little bits of dust you got caught in the back of your throat when using it.

He quickly came out at the other end and was flung into almost pitch-black darkness in what must have been Moody's home.

Dean instinctively scanned his eyes around the room upon his arrival and-

"LEGILIMENS!" screamed Mad-Eye from out of nowhere, as Dean was almost thrust off his feet in surprise, at first at the incantation of the spell itself - and then the feeling of his mind being penetrated.

Suddenly it felt like his whole life was flashing before his eyes like a highlight-reel, as Moody seemed to search through his mind for the memory that he was looking for.

He was three years old asking his crying Mum when his Daddy would come home.

Then it was the day that McGonagall had visited many years later to tell him that he was a wizard.

"You've got to understand where I'm coming from, Mrs McGonagall," his frightened Mother said. "You want to take my baby away to a boarding school that's hundreds of miles away… and it's just… boys like Dean… boys like Dean don't go to posh boarding schools… what if they all pick on him because of who he is and what he looks like and where he comes from?"

McGonagall smiled slightly.

"I can assure you, Mrs Thomas, that prejudice based on one's appearance is far less prevalent in Wizarding society than it is in the Muggle one."

"And this Wizarding society," Bruce responded curiously. "Would any of the other kids or adults look down on Dean because he wasn't born to magic parents?"

The slight smile departed the witch's face.

"SEND HIM OFF REF, RED CARD!" an 11 year old Dean shouted in the midst of a Quidditch match crowd.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" a befuddled and baby-faced Ron Weasley asked.

"I love you," Ginny whispered into his ear, before passionately kissing him on a common room sofa.

Dean flew his broom closer to a fairly distraught looking Ginny.

"Blimey Gin… all those years You Know Who has spent trying to do Harry in… I think Cormac McLaggen might beat him to it if he doesn't get a move on!"

The changing room was empty except for the two of them.

"What kind of fucked up person says something like that, Dean?!"

"I was only joking, Gin! It was just a bit of banter… I didn't realise he was that hurt!"

Dean looked around nervously as he noticed their argument had attracted quite the crowd in the common room.

"WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT BEING SO OVER-PROTECTIVE OF ME?!"

"I DIDN'T TOUCH YOU! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE ON ABOUT, GIN!"

"YOU DID TOUCH ME, DEAN! YOU DID! DON'T LIE TO ME!"

McGonagall's office was full of concerned looking muggle-born students.

"I'm not going to hide like a coward!" he fumed. "I don't care what You Know Who and his followers think of me. They don't scare me from coming back to school!"

Gatwick airport was heaving with travellers.

"It was good to learn more spells from Potter and his friends for self-defence," Finch-Fletchley began. "But that night that Death Eaters raided the school and Professor Snape killed Dumbledore, well. That was it for me. It's one thing training up for it and all, but I'm not willing to put my neck on the line to stay a part of the magical word. If everyone else wants to throw their life away, well more fool them. Some would call it bravery, but I say it's just naivety. We're not even 18, Dean. The days of teenagers being needlessly slain in pointless wars should be left behind in the 1940's. We've made the right choice, pal," he said solemnly, patting Dean on the shoulder.

"You know, Zacharias Smith was even trying to recruit me for some kind of secret resistance movement his Uncle is involved in," he scoffed. "Told me to keep it all very quiet of course, but well, I suppose given the circumstances telling you won't do any harm, will it?"

"Resistance movement?" Dean asked curiously.

"Yes. His Uncle is an Auror, isn't' he? On quite good terms with that Mad-Eye Moody fellow. He said they're setting up a top secret resistance movement, recruiting some muggle-borns for some highly classified unofficial operation if You Know Who gets in power. Sounded like a bloody suicide mission to me. Well, as you can imagine, I practically laughed in his face at the idea. What sort of brain-dead moron would sign up for that?" he scorned.

"Yea. Right…" Dean replied, as he was quickly sucked out of his memories and back into Moody's front-room.

"THAT STUPID LITTLE FUCKER, ZACHARIAS!" Mad-Eye raged. "I knew I saw him spying on us… stupid little shit, he'll get us all killed even sooner!" he ranted as he kicked a rocking chair with his one good leg, causing the chair to rock mercilessly for a few seconds.

"Sorry to have to do that to you, son," Moody muttered, barely making eye contact with Dean. "You must understand. Nothing personal. But your little friend wasn't wrong there about it being a suicide mission… I'd never recruit damn near kids for it. You've got your whole bleedin' lives ahead of yous. Too many died last time."

"But- but… no… please I want to join-

Moody laughed at him.

"You're not joining anything, son," he scoffed. "You're leaving my house and going back to where you came from, with no memory of this, just as soon as I can say Oblivi-

"NO YOU CAN'T!" Dean pleaded frantically.

"Please! I want to join. I want to fight them. I'm not qualified enough to join the Ministry and fight with them that way, otherwise I would. It's not like with the muggles… if you want to fight in a war you can just sign up to the army. If I could I would. I signed up to Dumbledore's Army! I want to-

"You want to get out of the country, son. I don't know anything about you but if you're a friend of the Weasley family you can't be that bad. I'll let you in on a little secret… all of the most talented young muggle-borns at the Ministry… you know what's happening with them?"

"No. But-

"I'll tell you what's happening with them, son. We're getting them out. Shipping them all off to other countries. Some of the best we've got. Aurors and all. You want to know why?"

"Because they're too scared to-

"NO! Not because they're too scared to fight! Because we're too scared to let another generation die!" he shouted.

"They wiped out all of the brightest muggle-borns in the Ministry's ranks in the last war… it was one of the first things they did. They won't hesitate to do it again this time. Better let them live to fight him and his scum another day than die in vain now. Potter and his friends… they're too caught up in it all now. They may well pay the ultimate sacrifice in the war to come and meet the same fate as his parents… but you don't have to go that way, son! Your cowardly friend at the airport had the right idea of getting out whilst he still could and you still can!"

"He's not my friend! I was going to leave… that's why I was at the airport! I packed my bags and I said my goodbyes, but I couldn't do it… I'm not going out without a fight! I want to fight them and I will whether you'll let me join your resistance movement or not!" Dean ranted at the battle-scarred wizard, who eyed him up and down before shaking his head once more.

"I'm afraid young Zacharias has gotten the wrong end of the stick if he thinks what we have planned is any kind of resistance movement. It's nothing more than a handful of retired wizards who are looking to make things a bit difficult for You Know Who and his mob should the worst happen – and your friend was right, believe you me boy, it will be a suicide mission of the absolute highest order."

"Then so be it!" Dean shouted adamantly.

"Look, you've got a lot of fucking nerve, boy. That I will give you," Moody admitted. "But I've got enough blood on my hands, without yours on them too. I don't know what you think you'd get out of fighting in this war… if you think you're making some kind of noble sacrifice by trying to get yourself killed then-

"Then at least I might take one or two of them down with me!"

"We're not having this conversation," Moody said resolutely. "Go home, kid."

"Just give me a chance to prove myself to you! I won't let you down. I won't-

"Oh for fuck sake," Moody swore angrily.

It took another hour of heated discussions with the former Auror to finally talk him round, but eventually, after much resistance, Moody caved in to Dean's relentless requests to get involved.

"I'm meeting a fella next Friday night," he had said in his deep Scottish accent. "The 1st of August… 11.30PM sharp at Portsmouth Harbour railway station. Not the most glamorous job… but if you're that hell-bent on playing your part… you might as well do something useful."

Dean Thomas was at Portsmouth Harbour railway station at 11.30PM sharp on the 1st of August… but Mad-Eye never showed.

Mad-Eye was dead.