As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
Alastor Moody's scowl cut deep furrows in his already much abused face. Not at the Ministry? Where then? Damn! Surely Merritt wasn't going to commit murder now! He couldn't sit back and just let that happen. He was not about to let the man throw away his entire career no matter how justified and understandable his hate and need for vengeance. Merlin! Snape is not worth it!
He contacted the Auror offices and left messages for Merritt, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks. Then he paced. And paced some more. Made tea and watched it cool. Flung the pages of The Daily Prophet from front to back. Paced some more.
It was Tonks who contacted him first and she did so by appearing on his doorstep and knocking loudly. "Oi Moody! It's me, Tonks!" She yelled.
He yanked open the door and practically pulled her inside. The young witch managed to keep her feet, but she had to grab his arm to do so. He got a look at her neon pink spiked hair and his mouth dropped open. "What the hell is that?!"
"Like it? I was in the mood for something flashy." She grinned wider and plopped easily into one of his more comfortable chairs. "Your message said you needed to talk to me but it didn't say I needed to sneak over."
The older wizard shook his head. "Tea?" he offered changing the subject. He shot a warming spell at the teapot anyway.
"Love some." She settled in comfortably and let the retired Auror come to his point in his own time.
He carefully poured her a cup and then himself. He took it almost black, but she added a huge dollop of milk and a large spoonful of sugar. She took a sip and gazed over the cup's rim at the clearly agitated wizard.
"Has Snape shown up at the Ministry?" His question came without preamble.
"Nope. Why should he? He's lost." She peered at her elder. "He's not lost?"
"Oh he's lost all right." He set his cup down carefully lest he throw it wildly.
"You're taking this rather... hard. I thought you didn't like the man."
"I don't. And I'm not taking it hard, Albus is."
"Oh."
"I was hoping Snape had been found and turned over to the Ministry. There haven't been any calls, I suppose."
"Nothing."
"Any chance He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has him?"
"Like we'd know?"
"He was the Order's -- Dumbledore's -- spy, not the Ministry's."
"Yeah, well, he's the only one who's had much success with it." She grimaced at the roughness of her own tone.
"Anything new on the Stonehenge attack?"
"No, and Mysteries is threatening to take everything away from Arthur."
"If there was anything to find, he'd have done already."
"I suppose, but he's been working so hard at it. I think he's convinced there's some clue in that stuff."
"Or maybe he's hoping to add it to his collection of Muggle plugs."
"Oh poor Arthur! You know most of his Muggle artifacts collection was destroyed, don't you, Moody?"
"No, but I guess it figures." He sat back and forced himself to be calm. Tonks didn't know anything. He'd have to go out and find the git himself. "I'm sorry I got you out here for nothing, Tonks."
"Not to worry, mate. I always enjoy a trip to the countryside." She chuckled.
"I'd offer lunch but I've got to see a man."
"No bother, I'll just be off, then. I will let you know if Severus turns up, ok?"
"Good girl."
The young witch's smile was as brilliant as her neon hair.
Moody shut the door after her and with a wave of his wand cleared away the tea things. He then went about the cottage gathering and pocketing a few of those shields and alarms that he deemed necessary components of a well dressed Auror's ensemble and then he disapparated to Diagon Ally. From there he headed to Knockturn Ally, all pretense of furtiveness dismissed without even a moment's consideration. He wanted to be seen. Let them cower who remembered his skill. Let them wonder who did not.
He paused outside a dank and miserable public house known less for its butterbeer than for its purveyance of questionable delights of unquestionable illegality. He did not enter. Not because he was afraid, for he was not. But rather because he knew the only Aurors he would find in there were those chatting up their informants. If Merritt did happen to be there, he'd be working. Moody turned away and left the evil place in peace.
Instead, he bought an ice cream sundae and settled comfortably in one of Florean Fortescue's outdoor tables. No reason to hide and by now anyone who cared had to know the old coot was about.
Besides, he liked ice cream.
He was just down to the last few spoonfuls and these were almost melted already, (he'd taken off the keep cool charm), when a tall, figure in pale grey robes settled into the chair across from him. He looked up to find, not Merritt, but Raoul, the most verbose of one of the four companions. "Well. Not who I expected, but you'll do, lad."
The balding strawberry blond grinned. "I'll have to, old man."
"Where's Snape?" Mad-Eye licked off his spoon and stared at the other man with both eyes. To the younger Auror's credit, and Moody's expectations, he did not flinch.
"Couldn't say."
Mad-Eye studied him for a moment. "I don't want to see a brilliant career go down in flames, lad. Not yours and not Merritt's. He's a fool if he doesn't turn the Death Eater over to the Ministry."
"Too late, Mad-Eye. What's done is done." The debonair Auror folded his arms across his chest, affecting a self-satisfied aspect.
Raoul seemed content to play this as a game, but it was no game to the old ex-Auror. "Don't be stupid. Snape was in no shape to fight back, and Merritt isn't overfond of drawn out torture. If he's killed him--"
"I think Merritt could well make an exception in this case, Mad-Eye. But no, we are not torturing Dumbledore's supposed spy. Nor have we killed him."
"Look here. There's not many other alternatives."
"Not many, no."
"The Dark Lord?"
"NO!" The vehemence was honest. "What do you take us for? We're none of us traitors. If anyone is, it's Severus Snape. No. We've found him a... better home."
"Where, you bloody idiot?!"
Raoul smiled, once more the epitome of collected self-assurance. "We gave him back to the Muggles." he was rewarded by a look of utter shock on the old man's face. For once the old goat was speechless. "We owe them something too." Raoul stood, gave a small nod of salutation and swept off.
Moody let him go without a word. His brain had not yet decided on the proper reaction when yet another bulk claimed the seat across the table. He looked up with an unusual but fleeting moment's surprise at the bald black man and his trademark golden hoop earring. "Good afternoon, Alastor. I never took you for an aficionado of such treats," he waved imprecisely at the now empty bowl of ice cream.
"I wasn't always an old curmudgeon, Shaklebolt," he growled back testily.
"Hm." The slow voice drawled, "What did he want?"
"He's one of yours, you should know."
"Actually, he's not. The Ministry calls them 'Special Services' Aurors." he shrugged. "They have their own office and their own cases for the most part."
"They?"
"Four of them. They were a team back during You-Know-Who's first rise."
"I remember. They're still together? That's unusual."
Shaklebolt nodded noncommittally. "All right old man, I know something's going on here..."
Moody sighed. "No, just putting out feelers. Dumbledore is upset. It makes for a distracted leader and the Order can't afford distractions."
"Is that why you left messages for Tonks and me, then?"
"Yeah. Tonks says the Ministry doesn't have him."
"He's not being held there. Unless someone's holding him incommunicado, the Ministry does not have him. Did you think they would?"
Moody looked back at the narrowed, suspicious eyes of his colleague. "One can only hope," he replied flatly.
"Have you seen Dung lately?"
"No. Not since yesterday's fiasco."
"What did you think of his story?" The Auror leaned forward in the chair.
"What is to think about? He was busy smokin' that foul pipe of his and Snape walked out."
"Molly doesn't think Snape was capable of that."
"Well, he did seem to need help getting about, but I fancy it was all an act, myself. Molly Weasley is entirely too trusting."
"I suppose it's possible. Well, I've got to get back to looking for Dung. He's the closest we have to a witness."
"Yeah. Oh, anything new on those Muggle Artifacts and that Slytherin banner?"
"Not sure. As of an hour ago the whole lot was sent to Mysteries. Arthur's not a happy man."
"Ah well, then. That's the end of that." Moody climbed slowly to his feet, almost as if the act was painful. Who knows, it might have been. He hobbled off, deep in thought. He turned the mad eye backwards and observed the younger Auror scrutinizing him. Constant Vigilance, he thought to himself wryly.
--
Forget.
Forget Molly? Forget Remus?
No. "No,"
He woke then, eyes opened without his command, finding himself prone on a hard floor, but not bound in any way. He sat up. Much too quickly for the brightness surged and spun he thought he might vomit. Collapsing weakly, he slammed shut his eyes and waited for everything to settle down again.
Much more slowly he brought himself upright, and, feeling a hard surface behind him, leaned his back against it. Now, he opened his eyes and took in the small brilliantly lit cubicle. It was tastelessly furnished with a narrow cot against one wall and a toilet against another and absolutely nothing else.
Not a dungeon, exactly. Much too clean and bright. Perhaps, though, darkness would be better.
As he sat there, unmoving and unmoved, he realized he hurt. Not a lot. Left over from... What? His eyebrows knitted in distressed confusion. Molly?" he whispered. Then, "Remus?" But naturally there came no reply. They would not have abandoned him here! Someone did, someone had taken him from the safe place and left him here. Someone. A man. Who carried a cloud of some foul stench about his person. A man who said they'd have Tea out. he remembered that. And a miniature coppice of pale green. And then nothing but sharp pain and the blonde woman.
Again.
--
It was late and the moon was full. Or as near to it as he could tell. Alastor Moody gazed up at the full brilliant orb and thought of Remus Lupin stuck at Hogwarts dosed with Wolfsbane Potion and howling at the luminous midnight goddess. Werewolves. Dangerous creatures but only once a month (or rarely twice when there came the rare Blue Moon). Dangerous if they didn't drink the potion. Poor Remus. He certainly did not deserve such a terrible life.
The ex-Auror lowered his gaze (he was only using his normal eye though, the other was dancing about keeping watch) and made his way to his front door. Almost there, his magical eye found a disturbance. He recognized it at once. "Dung. I've been looking for you."
"I've been busy, Mad-Eye."
"Come inside, then." He waved the other wizard ahead, checking his wards in case anything untoward had occurred in his absence. Nothing. Just Dung hanging about the place just beyond the wards. Smart.
The small cottage was not so much decorated as filled. And as everyone who had ever been inside knew, the place was filled with such trinkets as aided in Moody's defenses. There was also a bit of furniture, such as the comfortable chair Tonks had commandeered earlier that day. Moody took that and left Dung to sit in another, less plushly upholstered chair. "Albus wants to speak with you."
Fletcher seemed to deflate then. "It's not going over very well."
"What made you think it would? Those Aurors turned Snape over to some Muggles."
"Better them than He-Who-Must--"
"Oh shut it, you bloody fool. If I'd known that was their intent--" He broke off suddenly. "Margaret Alice! Damn them! Damn me for not realizing it and right in front of my nose!"
"What are you going on about?"
"Stay there!" Moody surged toward his fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder, throwing it in with an angry force. "Albus Dumbledore!"