Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. This is only fanfiction.
Self-Worth
"Damn it all!"
As the wine glass shattered against the wall, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody slammed his fist down on the table.
A few days had passed since he had been freed from the chest thatbinded him in all this time. Though his health had come back to him, Alastor Moody was still fuming over what had happened.
It all started when Barty Crouch Jr. and that parasite, Wormtail, had appeared before him on that fateful day. The struggle had been fierce but they had subdued him and locked him up in his chest.
"And to think I was so careless!" Moody growled as he took another sip from his flask.
In the grand scheme of things, Moody was somewhat pleased. After all, he had made several marks across Wormtail's face and given Crouch a rather disreputable looking black eye. But now, even small flickers of victory seemed ineffectual to him. His formidable struggle against them was a rather moot point seeing how the two scoundrels had overpowered him.
"How did this happen?" Moody grumbled. "I'm supposed to be one of the most powerful Aurors alive!"
He downed more alcohol from his flask. What used to be one of the most greatest Aurors alive was now a bitter and broken man.
What humiliated him even further was the fact that Crouch had kept him alive all this time just because he needed a tuft of hair from the aging Auror. Moody would have preferred it if his captives had simply killed him instead of humiliating and degrading him to the level of a mere prisoner.
"Curse that bastard!" Moody snarled. "If I could only get my hands on that serpent now… I'd rip him apart with my bare hands!"
"You are an honorable man, Alastor. Though crude in some regards, you would never sink to the level of killing any man, even an enemy, in cold blood."
Moody spun around and shook his head after seeing who it was. The voice belonged to none other than Dumbledore.
"Hello, Dumbledore," Moody replied wearily.
"I trust that you are doing well?" the eccentric old wizard asked.
"As well as can be for an emasculated and washed up Auror," came the reply.
"Alastor, please," Dumbledore pleaded. "What happened that day was not your fault!"
"Spare me the lectures, Dumbledore," 'Mad-Eye' Moody growled. "I'm not in the mood for this."
Dumbledore stared at Moody intently for a few seconds but did not speak. Inwardly, Moody was grateful that the wizened old sorcerer was trying to be considerate and understanding.
"Ah well," Moody finally said. "I suppose I at least owe you the time of the day, Dumbledore."
Dumbledore simply nodded and gestured for Moody to continue.
"I used to be one of the most powerful Aurors alive," Moody sighed. "I was responsible for capturing many of the wizarding world's deadliest criminals. I've fought the practitioners of the Dark Arts numerous times and even though I nearly lost my life against some of them, I still defeated them and emerged victorious."
Dumbledore listened carefully. After all that had happened, he certainly could not blame Moody for feeling the way he did.
"I'm adept in casting all three of the Unforgivable Curses," Moody continued. "I know how to resist all three and blast it, I can see through and hear almost anything thanks to my eye! Anything but my own future!"
"You were resting that day, Alastor," Dumbledore tried to sooth the ex-Auror. "You cannot be held responsible for the events that unfolded. Not even the most vigilant and powerful of wizards are capable of being on guard at every waking moment."
"It's still no excuse…" Moody moaned. "I let my guard down and look how Cedric Diggory died because of my negligence in that blasted Tri-Wizard Tournament!"
Mournfully, Dumbledore looked down. He wanted to tell the grizzled old wizard that it had been Peter Pettigrew who had killed Cedric and that it was not his fault. Given Moody's emotional state, however, he decided not to say anything.
"I always thought that if I went down, I would go down fighting against a dark wizard whose caliber is on par with the likes of Grindelwald," Moody went on sadly. "It turned out that all it took to defeat me was the wayward son of a peddling paper pusher."
After several uncomfortable minutes had passed, Alastor Moody turned and faced Dumbledore once again. He was hunching over again, a sign of the weariness he currently felt.
"I suppose you're here to talk me out of retirement, eh?"
Dumbledore nodded quietly.
"What good will that do?" Moody growled. "I couldn't defend myself against common street vermin like Wormtail! What makes you think I could even begin to help you again in this war?"
"Alastor, please," Dumbledore implored. "Frank and Alice Longbottom were two of the greatest Aurors alive and even they fell against the Death Eaters which included Bartemius Crouch Jr."
"What're you trying to say, Dumbledore?" Moody snapped. "Are you saying we don't stand a chance against them or are you just trying to make me feel better!"
Dumbledore did not answer immediately so Moody pressed on.
"You're the most powerful wizard alive, Dumbledore," Moody told him. "You, along with Potter, should do fine against the Death Eaters. I fail to see how my service would do any good"
"Not entirely," Dumbledore corrected. "If memory serves me right, I am only one of the most powerful wizards alive, though I prefer to remain humble on the matter."
It was true. Dumbledore did want to remain humble on the subject, although Moody knew that Dumbledore was far more powerful than he appeared.
"And if I may be allowed to say so," Dumbledore continued. "I am only considered the most powerful European wizard, although that is very well subject to change within the next few years. There are also those within the continents of Africa, Asia, and the Middle East who possess powers that may rival or surpass my own."
"Then why don't you ask them for help?" Moody growled.
"I have," Dumbledore replied softly. "They do not wish to be involved in regional disputes outside their countries. Call it an isolationist policy, if you will."
"I don't blame them," Moody grumbled.
"My friend, we need your help," Dumbledore said, half-pleading.
"My ego's been battered enough," Moody added in. "I don't know if I have enough heart left to face these dark wizards again, especially having been disgraced by a bastard and a rat."
Finally, Dumbledore closed his eyes. "So then, Alastor, this is merely a matter of pride, is it?"
Moody backed off in shock. What Dumbledore said had hit him like a ten-ton anvil.
"Am I correct, Alastor?"
"I…"
At last, without pause, Moody answered.
"Yes, I suppose you are."
"Confession is always something that has been meant to better us," Dumbledore said encouragingly. "Without it, we are condemned to self-loathing and bitterness."
Alastor Moody smiled sadly. "I've been fighting this nearly endless war for quite some time. Through it all, I always thought I'd grown invincible but in the end, I suppose I'm still human after all."
He looked at Dumbledore in the eyes with more conviction this time.
"Ah well, I suppose one defeat out of several hundred victories shouldn't deter me," Moody chuckled.
At last, Moody decided to sit down again. He gestured for Dumbledore to join him.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked the Hogwarts headmaster.
"Unfortunately, my time remains short," Dumbledore replied. "I came here to discuss with you a matter concerning the upcoming storm."
"You want me to rejoin the Order of the Phoenix and you want me to protect this Potter boy," Moody smirked. "Trust me, Dumbledore… there's nothing you can hide from my mind's eye."
"It is good to see that your wits are as sharp as ever," Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"However, before I join you, there's one more matter I need to put to rest," Moody said grimly.
"I understand perfectly, Alastor."
"So this is what's left of him?" Moody muttered disgustedly. "Pathetic."
The uncomfortable trip to Azkaban had been uneasy for the old Auror. Nevertheless, his need to put to rest the old ghosts within outweighed his former nervousness.
Now, however, the insecurity in his eyes had been replaced with pure contempt at the sight before him.
The corner of Barty Crouch Junior's lips seemed to vaguely recall the two people who stood before him. His experience with the Dementors, however, had left him lifeless and scarred beyond recognition.
"I am not so certain that he qualifies as being alive anymore," Dumbledore whispered.
"Bastard had it coming," Moody growled. "After what he did to Frank and Alice, this is what he deserves."
"It's a shame," Dumbledore lamented. "The Crouch family was once one of the most respected families in the wizarding world. This is what they are reduced to now…"
"Killing him now doesn't even seem worth it anymore," Moody snarled. "There's nothing left of him to take revenge on."
Crouch's head finally tilted to the left as spittle ran down his mouth. It was his only physical movement for the entire duration of time Moody and Dumbledore had been there. In disgust, Moody spat at him and turned around.
"I've seen enough of this depravity," Moody barked. "Let's go!"
By the time they left the infamous prison to reach their boats, a chilling presence was felt by both as the air around them grew colder.
"Dementors…" Dumbledore realized instantly.
As predicted by the headmaster, a large wraith-like Dementor appeared before them, hovering several feet in the air. Its dank smell did not escape the notice of Moody whose sense of smell did not exactly perform up to task due to a struggle against a Death Eater several years ago.
To Dumbledore's surprise, Moody glared at the Dementor without betraying the slightest inch of fear.
"You think you frighten me!" Moody shouted as he shook his fist. "I'm not afraid of some fungi-ridden bed sheet!"
As the Dementor drew closer to Moody and Dumbledore, it stopped in mid-air. The sinister, revolving eye that Moody possessed emanated a burning glow that managed to prevent the Dementor from coming any closer. Dumbledore was quite surprised. In all his years, he had never seen such power. Finally, the Dementor backed away slowly.
"That's right, Dementor," Moody growled. "You don't want to see the kind of Patronus I can conjure!"
At last, the Dementor retreated completely and disappeared from their sight.
"Even in this day and age, you surprise me," Dumbledore grinned.
"Looks like I still got it," Moody smirked.
"Towards the end of this summer, you will be called upon to retrieve Harry," Dumbledore told the now-revitalized Auror.
The two of them strolled down the halls of the currently empty Hogwarts.
"Do you really believe this boy has what it takes to bring down Voldemorte?" Moody asked.
"I have my faith in him," replied Dumbledore cryptically.
"I suppose I have a few good years left as an Auror," Moody chuckled. "I should be able to lend a hand to Potter at this point… err, not literally of course."
He looked down at his own wooden leg and shuddered.
"You've made the right decision, my friend," Dumbledore smiled. "I feared we had lost our most respected member."
"I'll make sure Potter's looked after," declared Moody fiercely. "You can count on it!"
"To think that we are still so spry even in our old age," Dumbledore mused.
After they parted ways, Moody stepped outside of the school and looked up high into the sky.
Now that Voldemorte was back, he'd have to be on his guard once more. Now, though, he wouldn't let his guard down. He would see to it personally that Voldemorte would become nothing more than failed would-be conqueror along with the likes of Morgan La Fey and Grindelwald. To achieve that, he had to protect and guide Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
This time he would not fail.
So I got locked up in a chest for a while… big deal! I'm still one of the strongest Aurors alive. They won't take me without a fight this time!
The End.