July 1994

The iron shackle around his wrist pulled hard on his arm and shoulder, but Aaron was in too much pain to stay on his feet or lean against the wall anymore. Whatever potion Pomfrey had given him that morning had worn off and Moody's head was still submerged in the pensieve. His body would have to cope. Sometimes it was all just a matter of trading one type of pain for another. He was good at that now. The pain in his left arm and shoulder would distract the right side of his body from the realization that it was missing parts.

He didn't bother trying to use non-verbal hand magic on his restraints. He had always been shite at it. And it had been more than three years since he had held a wand. There was a strong chance he wouldn't know what to do with spells and charms even if they were available.

At least the smell of rot was no longer attached to him. He had made sure of that.

You're past the worst of it. Moody will finish going through your memories and get you out of here.

Or, he'll kill me for what I did.

The first time Moody had secured an iron shackle around his wrist, he had at least left him with the key.

Was that five years ago?

The park. Milk bread with honey. Staying awake with the dragon.

No, it was SEVEN years ago.

Moody had stood over his bed at St. Mungo's. Aaron wasn't sure how he had gotten back to the hospital after Hogwarts, but his body started shaking again and he was too exhausted to survive more apparition. Moody knew that. He had taken the iron shackle and clasped it over Aaron's wrist.

"This will stop your body from going anywhere," Moody said. "We use iron when we arrest witches and wizards to keep them from appariting. It will ground you. You won't be able to jump while that's on."

Moody was right. His body had stopped shaking and the layers were gone.

He handed Aaron the key. "But you can't live like this. You have to learn how to control it and we need to figure out why the fuck your body won't stay in one damned place."

They had figured out, and he had learned to control it, but not for a while.

Moody's head shot out of the pensieve.

"He's fucking alive?"

Aaron didn't have to ask who he was talking about. "Yes."

"How long does this go on? Where he has you in the cell?"

"I don't know," Aaron said, trying to keep his voice level. The right side of his body felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to it. "Maybe a year."

"If I knew he was fucking alive-"

Moody didn't finish. He submerged his head again.

Aaron leaned back against the wall and tried to keep himself from passing out.