He stared down at the piece of earth in front of him. His surroundings didn't exactly speak of the enormity of the place he was currently in or the piece of stone in front of him.
Things looked quite nice today. Muggle children were out with their parents, the few Wizarding houses that they couldn't focus on and that he could clearly see looked to be bustling with activity – smoke pouring out of chimneys, or tools, unattended by owners, maintaining houses as best as spell-driven tools could – and nothing seemed to be out of place.
Even the wreck , with the small sign in front of it that was covered in well-wishes, looked oddly peaceful. The damaged portions of it, kept 'pristine' and forever-damaged under preservation spells, weren't overgrown by foliage or being pecked at by curious animals.
He shook his head and looked down at the stone in front of him again. He sighed.
He looked around himself, patting the best of the worn out invisibility cloaks – which helped to render him nearly-invisible using an added Disillusionment Charm – he had draped around his shoulders.
With a few muttered spells and a gesture with his wand – he needed to make sure to use it more often than his walking stick, since he'd be teaching in just six weeks' time – he began to remove dirt from the grave in front of him.
He looked down at the casket and shook his head. Back then, centuries and centuries ago, he'd been thought of as an odd wizard for wanting a casket like this one. Funeral rites were different and not nearly as corrupted by this world's version of Christianity.
With the plans he'd had, he hadn't cared back then, and he was more than happy to unearth his own grave now to claim what few things he'd hidden with it.
Black, dark wood, as clean and as sleek as it had been when he'd first designed it, stared up at him. Moody leaned down into the grave, suppressing the urge to groan as his body bent over.
Even if he still had a leg, it had been wounded during the war all the same. It hurt when he moved, and especially when he was standing up straight. Still…
He placed a hand on the casket, humming under his breath, and the top of the casket seemed to melt away at his touch, revealing…
Nothing. He tried not to feel let down – he'd come across empty versions of his own grave one too many times to hope that Being X had left him with something so useful as his own corpse – and instead began to form something in his hand that wasn't gripping his walking stick.
Back in the Empire – during his first reincarnation, oh so long ago – he might have called the thing in his hand an Active Barrier, although the complexity of its shape would have been far beyond her skill, so long ago.
Since the Active Barrier was just a hardened form of mana, you could technically form it into whatever shape you wanted, including a key, as long as you could do the mental gymnastics you had to perform to warp something meant to be a smooth, dome-like surface into something as un-uniform as a key.
With what he had lived through – dozens of realities set far in the future where calculus was taught to middle schoolers and quantum physics was just the beginning of a college-level class – the stuff he had to calculate for this was trivial, even without a Computation Jewel.
Of course, he probably could have just used Alohomora, which hadn't been invented back when he'd made the thing.
He chuckled. Way back then, the way to unlock a locked door was by shouting Open Sesame and watching the thing you were trying to unlock get decimated. He had been fairly sure that no one trying to grave-rob would do that to the object they were trying to unlock.
With fond memories swirling through his head, he pressed the key into a tiny hole in the lower corner of his casket.
The bottom of it melted away, revealing a smallish bolthole with more helpful goodies he'd left for himself.
More books and missives from long dead historical figures – some of which he could sell in the Muggle world, providing the Goblins were game – as well as a more important item.
A single vial – and hadn't a clean vial been so maddeningly difficult to make by hand back then – of phoenix tears acquired from a decidedly odd wizard that had gone by the name Bumblebee looked him in the eye.
He nodded happily and shoved that into another pocket. Other than that and the books, though…
His eyebrows – or what was left of them – rose, and he let out a yelp of happiness. His wand!
Or, his old wand. His first one.
He smiled. His current wand – a red oak and phoenix feather wand that was just over a foot and wonderful – was as close to perfect as he ever thought it would be.
It would never hurt to have more than one, however. He leaned forward and grabbed it.
A wave of sparks – electric blue and gold-white – issued from the wand, and he fought the urge to laugh out loud.
He'd forgotten he'd left that in here – he hadn't thought he'd need this stuff in this life – but he was happy to have his shorter fir and dragon heartstring wand back on his person.
He shook his head and pocketed it – not anywhere near his other wand, of course; that would be risky – and quickly covered the grave once more, after dispelling the charms on his casket, hopefully allowing it to finally begin to fall prey to the elements.
He stood up with a groan and looked about. Good, he hadn't been seen-
His gaze, flitting around the place and searching for even the slightest hint of danger, stopped. A grave, with flowers and wreaths and…
He blinked as he walked forward, towards the only grave with anything resembling a token of appreciation on it.
Right. James was one of his descendants, so he was buried in the same graveyard he – and his family – was.
The younger Potter was part of his family too. He didn't ordinarily pay much stock in what happened to the few offspring he left behind after a few hundred years, but Being X had made a point of it, which meant he had to keep it in mind, if nothing else.
He breathed deeply as he stopped in front of their grave. He let the cloak dip from around his head.
"James. Lily."
He shook his head mournfully as he remembered their first meeting at the order… their escapes from Voldemort, helped in part by his own actions…
"I'm sorry. I was sure I was out of trouble – I wasn't drafted to fight Grindelwald, I survived the Cold War the Muggles had and all of the hidden Magical conflicts, and I even lived through the war that Magical Britain underwent – that I forgot…"
He let out a bark of laughter. "Forgot! Ha! Merlin, I drank to your kid every time I remembered him and the opportunity presented itself."
"No, I didn't forget, but for all the care I showed him, I might as well have. But, after Sirius turned traitor, I thought finding him might lead other followers of You-Know-Who to him. Still, it's not like me at all to leave such a big unknown lying around. Or give stupid excuses to dead people."
"And yet…" he started to say again.
He stopped and moved on. "I'm sorry. It's hard to grow up without a parent – I've done it often enough – and the least I could have done was check up on him. Tell him a bit about you two. Might have even been good for me…" he mused, running a hand over his still-scarred face.
With yet another shake of his head, he threw his hood on. "I'll make sure he turns out right, though. Maybe I've only got a year, maybe I'll break that curse on the position and stay around for longer. Regardless, I'll make sure Being X doesn't get his hooks into him."
With that, he walked away, ready to go home for the day. The sun was beginning to set, and he only had six weeks to get everything together.
-OxOxO-
Moody glanced at his fireplace suspiciously. He knew, deep down, that there was no reason to suspect the thing. It had only been helpful to him in his long, long years of inhabiting this lonely old house. It was his connection to the outside world that didn't rely on him traveling somewhere else.
That didn't mean, however, that Being X wouldn't choose today to have it collapse on him. He had a feeling…
Muttering and casting spells with both wands, he waited to see something happen. To see it flash red, or change itself into a trio of manticores, or for it to explode. He was ready to cast an Active Barrier at a moment's notice, to Apparate away, to utilize a dozen different power sets from different universes, and to-
Nothing. He sighed and looked over at his desk. Letters sat there, yes, but…
He glared at them, careful not to wish that they burst into flame, because that was a likely outcome with how much he wished they weren't there. Three were from Hogwarts. One from Dumbledore reminding him to get a curriculum and books to buy and a supplies list, and two from other staff members wanting to… socialize.
He shuddered. Was it likely that they wanted to murder him in cold blood?
Hell no, but Being X wasn't how he had first been, oh so long ago. No, he was more cunning than Slytherin and Merlin put together. Those letters could be dominos that would lead to him being randomly transported onto a grenade into some rebellion or warzone and losing out after well over a millennia of opposing the bastard.
Of course, just because Being X now planned entire lives in advance didn't mean he wasn't still a egotistical dickwad. Case in point: if he hadn't blabbed about his plan and shut the fuck up, Moody wouldn't have been any the wiser. He would have either reincarnated twice and been offed by Being X's newest weapon in the form of his descendant, or he might have even been killed during the next war with Voldemort.
And there would be a next war, if Dumbledore wasn't senile and Voldemort actually had returned last year.
He sighed.
Unfortunately, he had to leave now, regardless of his opinions on his fireplace and Being X. He'd responded to the Ministry's polite, yearly invitation to the graduation ceremony of this year's batch of Aurors and Hitwizards with a promise to come. He would reveal his intent to tutor a select few in the coming years, get the Ministry off his back for a bit, and, maybe…
He grinned. Maybe he'd even run into that two-faced, too-smug bastard-
He made up his mind. He stepped into the fireplace, reached into the pouch of Floo Powder inside the inner pockets of his robe, and threw it down. "Ministry of Magic Atrium!"
In a swirl of magic, he was gone, watching fireplaces whirl past him.
He kept one hand on a grenade he'd stolen from a member of East Germany's secret police, the Stasi , back in the 50s, kept in pristine condition with a Reparo every week. The other hand rested on a wand, a conjuration for a dozen more grenades in mind, while he was ready to shout the activation word for his only-mostly illegal portkey at the-
And then he was there, standing in the Ministry. No time was spent admiring the statue or the architecture or the pattern of bricks; he'd long since memorized those on the off chance something changed and he was being targeted.
Instead, he moved forward – if he stayed put in the fireplace, someone might land on top of him, leaving him vulnerable – and began to walk among the wizards and witches dressed in blues and blacks and many other different and equally muted colors.
He was dressed as always – having different kinds of clothing meant he'd be less familiar with everything, which might allow for some Portkey to be placed on his person without his knowing – with brown, trench-coat-like robes covering the more Muggle-style clothes designed for blending in that he wore underneath.
He probably looked weird to any normal sensibilities, but he was surrounded by wizards. None of them cared unless they were quite obviously made with flaunting wealth in mind, like with that slimy, blond bas-
Walking stick in one hand, he had weapons and defensive measures covering his entire body, ready to be called into action at the slightest hint of danger.
Thankfully, his reputation meant exactly no one began to whisper his name as he passed. As long as he jumped at a few people when they forgot that he was the 'paragon' of paranoia and ready to attack anyone, they left him mostly alone. He smirked behind the façade of heightened suspicion at everything around him.
Of course, how much of a façade was his 'persona' of-
The lack of attention paid to him ended when he reached the checkpoint that would let him go up to the Department of Magical Law enforcement. "Wand?" asked the bored, disinterested wizard that was looking down at a copy of the Daily Prophet.
He almost smirked, but outwardly he put on a fierce, terrifying scowl that would have given dragons nightmares. "What are you supposed to be? If you're what counts as security, I think I was gone for too long the minute after I left."
The kid's head jerked upwards in confusion, and Moody easily kept the scowl in place despite the urge to laugh at the growing horror on the man's acne-ridden face. "M… m- m- m- Mad-eye-"
He banged his walking stick on the ground. "That isn't my name, sonny . I suggest you stop stuttering soon," he growled out.
Alastor ignored the papers the kid dropped to the ground. "Alastor Moody! Uh… I-"
Moody leaned forward, the scarred mess that counted as a nose nearly touching the man's face. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE! If I'd been trying to break in, a quick, silent Confundus would have made you ignore me. They'd have run through the Ministry with no one the wiser to-"
"ALASTOR!"
He whirled around, and his scowl retreated by the smallest bit.
Amelia Bones.
Fuck.
Unlike Moody, she didn't act like a hard-ass partly for her own shits and giggles, as far as he knew, and he'd known her for a long time.
She truly wanted to make things better and better through rigorous training, empirical work, and methodical capture and persecution of criminals… like he would have in her position.
Despite his experience, even he might be hard-pressed to live up to her work – he definitely could live up to her and probably even do more, but he wouldn't have time to make sure Being X didn't kill him by having him magically end up in the middle of a violent protest or revolution or-
He bowed his head fractionally, and then his eyes – his actual one and the magical one he'd partially constructed using a bit of tricky magic from another universe – were trained on her. "Bones."
His eye narrowed. "How did you know I was here?" he asked, a hand moving towards a wand-
She didn't make even the slightest move to defend herself magically. She sighed, "Moody… you told me you were coming today, and I've been Charmed stuck to my window watching the Atrium to make sure you didn't do… this," she gestured to the man that was only quaking a lot and the crowd of onlookers staring and whispering about him.
He cast a violently suspicious look – something he'd had more than centuries to cultivate – at the crowd, and Amelia sighed as they backed away with peels of squawking and low shouting. "Would you please-"
He turned without another word, heading towards the elevator that had undoubtedly taken her down to meet him. He did need to keep moving, planning, and making sure he moved towards his current goals – make sure his descendent didn't murder him in a life or two, and stop whatever bullshit Being X was concocting to harden him up. Moving towards those goals meant he'd have to cut back on his paranoia, both feigned and real.
Just a little bit.
Bones moved into the elevator after him, followed by a few of those flying memos. The gates closed, and they were off, moving through the building silently. He gave her a quick glance with his magic eyeball…
Purple – he didn't care if they were technically 'plum,' they were a pompous shade of purple – robes hung from her body. He blinked.
"The Wizengamot? I swear, if you scheduled this to-"
She cut him off, which struck Moody as something no one sane would do. "Moody, for the last time: I wouldn't try and force you into this."
He was silent, and she glared at the side of his head. He slowly faced her. "I ask you, personally and politely , if you would like to attend these opening ceremonies. I don't push it, because if you don't want to be here, you'll make everyone well aware of the fact."
He thought the conversation was done after that, and she proved him wrong quickly. "Besides," she continued, "I'd simply bring up our time in Hamburg if I really wanted you here."
He whirled on her, facing her in full. "Bones, I swear-"
She had the gall to smirk at him. "Oh, hush you. Cleaning up after Grindelwald in Germany was good training, but Hamburg was better."
She winked at him through the monocle, and his mind flashed back to that time in Germany, when her hair wasn't as gray, when her face wasn't lined by worry, and he had all of his limbs.
And his dick.
He glowered at her and shut the hell up as they arrived at the correct floor. The office was…
Much the same as it had been when he had left. Offices and cubicles separated the spaces the Aurors and Hit Wizards were given for their workspace, where everything from papers and evidence floating in the air to pictures of the most wanted people were.
None of them were occupied. He turned towards Amelia as they walked forward. "Where is everyone?"
She readjusted her monocle as they walked past the door marked as her office. "Why, waiting for us, of course."
He nearly stopped in his tracks. "You're stopping the operations of the entire Department just to welcome in a couple dozen recruits?"
She didn't stop in the slightest. "On the contrary: we're stopping all operations to welcome in a dozen recruits exactly ."
For a moment, he was left stunned, and then he hummed appreciatively as they picked up the pace and passed the wall with the paper reports on the activities of the Department. "Well. I suppose raising the standards-"
"Standards haven't been raised, Moody. They've been lowered, actually."
He did stop this time, glancing at her incredulously. "Bones. What the hell-"
She spun back towards him, her stony expression showing only the barest of cracks from anger. "Your retirement spelled the end of the Department's heyday, Moody. A lot of our best left after you, and despite my attempts, we can only get money from politicians – and I'm not going to jeopardize the Department with corruption when we're so small – and Hogwarts just isn't what it used to be with Dumbledore."
Moody blinked as she continued forward, not waiting for him, stalking past the entrances to the smaller subdivisions of the Department. "What's Dumbledore got to do with anything?"
She scoffed. "I don't care if he is the second coming of Merlin, he's got three jobs that would take a normal wizard a time turner to do well. Hogwarts, the Wizengamot, and the ICW are good with him helping them, but any of them would be leagues better if he picked even two of them to focus on and dropped the third."
Moody was silent after that, mulling over what she had said. Opposition to Dumbledore, who was, without a doubt, the best bet anyone had to fight against either Dark Wizards or extremism in general…
It wasn't technically impossible for her to have gone Dark, but he'd known her for decades on end, since his training in Germany…
He blinked. Germany…
He sighed. Grindelwald had done a number on that country with the backing of this world's Hitler. Tens of million Muggles had died, and over a million wizards and witches had gone with them. Most of the ashes had been painstakingly picked up by a wizarding government whose jurisdiction extended over two very antagonistic countries being backed by two even more antagonistic countries, and Moody was glad that he had only been there for a decade.
He could still remember a handful of versions of the same country in similar situations, when it had been his homeland.
He caught the concerned look she sent him. "Just remembering Germany, Amelia…"
She raised an eyebrow and gave him a smile that others might have found out of place on the face of a woman with graying hair and a monocle. "Alastor, I wouldn't actually tell anyone about Hamburg."
He grumbled. She was trying to get him to forget the worst of what they had seen. "You're right, and I remember the Unbreakable Vow we made to make it so."
She snorted. "If I didn't know better, I might think you were embarrassed about your abilities in bed," she mused. He grumbled again and muttered about it being a bit of a moot point.
"Too bad that," she muttered right back. He found himself rooted to the spot, for a moment-
But before he could figure out precisely which language he wanted to cuss her out in, she turned away and stepped through the doors. He heard applause echo from behind the closed doors, and fought to keep his annoyance from showing on his face.
While there had been plenty of people able to prod him until they got a reaction out of him – by the nature of what his existence had become, the chances that someone wouldn't figure out how was slim to none – Amelia had known him long and personally enough to do it quite consistently.
He shook his head, banishing his musings as the applause began to die down. He pushed through the doors and began to try not to think about what else had been taken with his leg too much…
Only to growl. Blinding lights, clapping, movement and people staring at him from all angles in a room that seemed so blank, it must have been used for the more 'boring' paperwork training…
Prime time for Being X to try something unexpected. His eye was whirling around, constantly giving Moody information about everyone around him and the room and the rooms surrounding this room…
"I would like to thank former Auror Alastor Moody for attending the 1992 graduation ceremony! Through rigorous training, you all have gone beyond simply having the prerequisites for attempting to become an Auror or Hit Wizard, to being worthy of both the job and the Ministry as a whole."
He stared out. He could see…
A sea of faces, yes, but a rather small sea of faces that was more like a pond. The twelve of them – arranged in three rows of four – stood up from their seats and clapped as he made his way across the stage. The other members of the department were either on the stage with him or on the floor, giving encouragement to those currently graduating.
He tried to lessen his scowl, and he nodded respectfully to the twelve. He supposed that the cut backs on the Department made a bit of sense.
The magical Ministries and Congresses of the world did not have any standing armies, technically. They would never go to war with the Muggles – though it was debated as to whether magic could triumph over technology, the Statute made that point as moot as his theoretical abilities in bed – and they didn't go to war with each other…
…In ideal circumstances where Grindelwald or Voldemort or Dark Wizards in general weren't trying to take over a country or kill all Muggles or something equally or more idiotic.
He shook his head. As such, governmental divisions tasked with enforcing magical law, from his experience, generally fluctuated between being a strong police force to being a crack group of military specialists… sort of like a greatly enlarged 203rd, except for an entire society's defensive forces and without him at its head.
The International Confederation of Wizards was, of course, an exception – if any even vaguely governmental body could be considered to have an army, then an ICW Task Forces could fit the bill when necessary.
Of course, the population damage from Voldemort had been extensive, too. From what he could see, it seemed like it was sliding towards being a not-so-strong police force.
He finally got up to the podium, and Amelia bowed her head to him and let him have the stage.
He cleared his throat. He hadn't been planning on speaking – especially not to so few – but he had a few speeches in one of his pockets anyway, for occasions such as this. He looked into the pocket with his magic eye and began to cobble together a short speech by picking pieces out from all of them and from some of the – many – speeches he'd given during his existence.
"Aurors and Hit Wizards. Today, you've become some of the best of the best. I say truthfully: well done."
A smattering of applause followed, and he leaned down, looking over everyone.
Not just the twelve graduating, but the groups of others in the Department that surrounded them, and those seated in the far back, who were still in training. His magical eye was scanning them, trying to find the one Dumbledore had mentioned.
And not just the Aurors, either. He looked towards the much larger number of bureaucrats and office workers who participated in the less adventurous sections of the DMLE. He managed to spot Arthur Weasley in the crowd, which reminded him…
He shook his head and continued speaking. "However. Evil still exists in the world. Though Voldemort may be gone," he said, watching the back more intently as the room gasped at the name.
There. Her hair was changing colors – black and red, mostly – and he studied her for a moment during the pause.
Not dressed formally – a distaste for authority, a love of Muggles, or an attempt to showcase her abilities at blending in? – she had on a brown jacket and an assembly of clothing that screamed 'punk' so loudly he wondered, for a moment, if they actually might be spelled to do so.
He quickly continued after making sure that no one had seen his odd interest. "Though he is gone, that doesn't mean that there aren't other evils still in the world. The Muggles in the Balkans are tearing each other to pieces, and the magical people in the region are growing more frightened; a perfect time for a Dark Lady or Lord to try to take power."
The room seemed to still from hearing that statement, and he continued through the silence. "Though our home might be safe – for now – Europe and the rest of the world is always in need of aid. And, as we beat our own evils, we must strive to ensure that it is struck down wherever it might try to rise."
Again, applause, though there was a nervous tinge he could now detect. Amelia quickly took back the spotlight, beginning the festivities, and Moody soon found himself talking to both the new recruits and some more people that had joined since he'd left, avoiding all the refreshments he could – who knew what had been spiked, either in jest or in malice.
Most of the recruits were… decent. He might have considered all of them good Auror material after another half-year of training.
What concerned him was how few there were. Even before the rise of Voldemort, there had been nearly a thousand – at least – wizards and witches in the Department. Now, he might have been able to count five hundred. At best.
He didn't like this. Was Being X at work, or was Dumbledore really flubbing his management of the school? Was it that idiot Fudge? Was it Amelia?
Regardless, he knew this wasn't enough to properly face Voldemort, if he managed to come back. He might just have to come here after his year at Hogwarts…
Or maybe Dumbledore would reform the Order, and Moody could really train the fighting wizards this time. Last time, Dumbledore hadn't wanted to push the regular citizens that joined and who provided information and nothing else. This time, with so few resources, maybe he'd be allowed to go farther?
He blinked as he saw a more familiar face.
"Kingsley, good to see you again. Have you been promoted yet?" he growled. The tall man nodded, looking Moody over.
"You haven't changed a day, Moody. And yes, I got promoted. I've got a squad working under me, and we handle whichever investigations I think we can handle, unless Bones puts us on something specific," he boomed. Moody nodded.
"If I'd changed, I'd want you to spell whoever was traipsing around pretending to be me. Regardless, you should be running the Auror Office, but you'll get there eventually," he said, casting his eye about, looking for…
"What can you tell me about Nymphadora Tonks?" he asked. Kingsley blinked at the non sequitur, but he adapted to having Moody back easily enough.
"Her? Where did you…" he trailed off, but he shook his head as Moody's eyes were both staring at Kingsley's face pointedly.
"Alright, alright," he boomed, sighing. "She graduated Hogwarts last year, she-"
"I already talked about that stuff with Dumbledore. Grades, opinions the teachers knew about or had, her own declared opinions, friends, enemies. I want to know how you think she's doing here ."
He blinked again, seemingly thrown off his kilter. "She's doing great, actually. She doesn't talk about it, but her mother's the disgraced daughter of the Black family."
Moody blinked, trying to remember. "Happened a few decades ago, right? Ran away from home and told her family to fuck off, right?"
He snorted. "If telling her family to hang itself from the noose its family tree had formed can be compared to just 'fuck off,' then yes, she did tell her family that."
Moody grinned. "So. She's likely got a leg up from her mother's access to magic and knowledge of the Black business, Metamorphmagus powers, tempered by her father…"
Kingsley held up a hand. "She's good, but not that good. She's clumsy, and she's a bit naive."
Moody nodded. "Hufflepuff. All for fair play, won't let others fall behind, helps her friends, and gets very angry when people try to do anything she doesn't like, if she's anything like Amelia."
He smiled happily. "Sounds interesting. I think I'll do it, then."
Kingsley blinked at him suspiciously. "'Do it?' What are you up to, Moody? Rumor has it you've refused to come to these before. Why now?"
Moody's eyes both glued themselves to Kingsley again after checking his surroundings. "A storm is coming, Kingsley," he began, his voice dropping, "The Department needs… more, and as part of that, I'm teaching her everything I know. My protégé."
Kingsley's eyes widened comically, but Moody moved on, limping towards the back, where all the Trainee Aurors and Hit Wizards were.
They parted for him as he stalked towards the girl. He couldn't hear her, yet, and he didn't really feel like eavesdropping right now. Maybe he'd plant a bug on her later, but for now, he needed to know how she'd react to him.
"Nymphadora Tonks."
She froze, for a moment, before spinning around, her hair flaming red. "DON'T call me…"
She trailed off as she realized who she was talking to, and her hair began to bleach itself pure white. He smirked at her while filing away notes about needing to teach her to keep her powers in check.
"I'd shout 'constant vigilance,' but I'm sure you're already scared stiff. Walk with me, girly."
She looked over her shoulder – probably towards her friends and acquaintances, if the helpless and reassuring looks she was being given were anything to go by – but she did eventually take a step towards him.
He nodded, and they were off, traveling towards a more isolated corner. "You come highly recommended, Auror Trainee."
He could hear her gulp. "By whom, sir?"
He chuckled. "The Headmaster, of course. I'm teaching at Hogwarts this year, and I mentioned wanting to pass on what I've learned. He mentioned you ."
Her face turned paper-white, along with her hair, again. She tried to squeak out a reply, but he didn't let her. "We'll discuss this more later. Amelia will talk to you about it."
"Madame BONES!?" she squealed.
He shook his head again, growling angrily and glaring. "Not so loud!"
He sighed as she clammed up. He tried to sound the slightest bit less gruff. "You, along with… others , will be given some… instruction. From me. She'll give you details, but be ready to drop everything anytime. Got it?"
She nodded rapidly, and he moved away.
Interesting. He didn't know what she was thinking – the moment he'd learned that Legilimency might allow for skilled Occulumens to break into your mind through your attempt, he'd dropped his attempts to learn the possibly self-damaging skill – but he could guess that she was confused and hopeful.
He was too. Usually, he didn't have real protégés . He might give someone all the information on battle he'd learned in their universe, but he had given very, very few the privilege to learn from everything he had learned.
He might let her be the… what, seventh?
He nodded as he walked up to Amelia. Yes, she might become the seventh one he passed on everything to. Considering the particulars of magic in this world, it was entirely possible that being the seventh would make her one of the best.
"Bones. We need to talk."
She raised an eyebrow behind her monocle, but she excused herself from talking to the heads of the Offices and subdivisions of her Department. They went back to the corner, where Nymphodora had drifted out of.
"Amelia. I'm working at Hogwarts next year, and-"
She cut him off. "You too?"
He blinked in confusion, and she quickly explained. "I have received a mysterious letter warning me about something vaguely dangerous happening at Hogwarts this year. They seemed to be… very worried and very sure."
He shook his head, frowning, thinking about who would tell her such a thing.
Was it a threat, intended to scare her? Unlikely. Her reputation was not of the caricature of a Hufflepuff – of a meek fool who hid behind others out of cowardice. No, she also proved in Germany, to that death cult that had popped up in the wake of Grindlewald's defeat, that, though she cared greatly for those around her, she was as brave as a Gryffindor, smart as a Ravenclaw, and cunning as a Slytherin if she needed to protect people.
Then, if it was a warning, who was it from? Someone privy to the plot? An unfortunate bystander?
"I didn't write it, and I don't have any idea what they would be talking about. Forward me the letter and I'll take a look at it, if you'd like."
She cursed and sighed. "I'll do that, thank you. I have absolutely no clue who sent the letter, but I was inclined to take the warnings seriously…"
She growled, and he raised an eyebrow. She looked around conspiratorially and leaned forward. "If I had proof, I might try to look into it, but the Minister is paranoid about any 'collusion' with Dumbledore – he's still paranoid that Dumbledore is after his job."
He wasn't sure if he should laugh or find the bastard and string him up by his stupid hat somehow – if Dumbledore wanted Fudge's job, he'd have it in a heartbeat. There wouldn't be any need for 'collusion' when he'd been begged to run the country at least twice a decade.
Amelia continued. "Besides, I have more pressing concerns – there have been a number of concerning corruption cases in the Department, bribes and-"
She stopped, giving him an appraising look.
He knew that look. He'd seen it several times, over the course of their work together.
He shook his head, raising a finger. " Bones."
He did not like that look.
She grinned. "Moody. I might have a favor to ask of you."
He blinked. Wait, this was good, actually.
He blinked again as he grinned. It was nice to feel like he was doing something a bit more proactive than waiting to die. "I was going to say the same thing to you, actually." He hoped he wasn't imagining the nervous edge to her smile.
Ten minutes later, they had a basic agreement going. Amelia would have 'Tonks,' as she preferred to be called, as well as some other promising Aurors set aside time to receive extra training – the fact that Tonks would be getting extra training was also agreed upon. In return, he would report anything unusual that went on at Hogwarts to her.
He was happy with that. Last year, Voldemort had infiltrated the castle. What could be more unusual than that?
-OxOxO-
He had half a mind to head up towards Fudge's office and terrify the man into increasing the budget of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but he eventually decided that he'd do it more subtly.
He did, after all, have access to a Philosopher's Stone. He could write to him as a mysterious benefactor…
Or he could cut out the middleman and just donate directly to the DMLE. With Amelia in charge, it wouldn't 'go missing,' if she was as diligent and hardworking as ever. Of course, pumping too much gold through official channels would eventually raise suspicion from auditors…
He shook his head as he rode up the elevator. He got so caught up in trying to maneuver everything around him, that sometimes he forgot that the easiest solution often involved circumventing problems instead of crushing them.
Of course, even if he staved off the Ministry auditors, the goblins would get pissy if he did too much and wrecked the economy by creating gold… but he could always sell the gold in the Muggle world and convert the cash to Galleons, if he needed that much-
"Alastor!"
He turned around, a hand shoved into his coat, ready to demolish-
Oh. It was just Arthur. He nodded to the man and began to make his way towards the Floo. "I didn't think your work ended so soon, Arthur," he mused, wondering if Amelia had-
"Ah, no, no, not yet. I wanted to know if you're still available for the fourteenth?" he asked kindly. Moody scowled.
He didn't have much going on – just preparing to teach and dusting off some of his less forceful instruction methods – but, on the other hand, he didn't exactly want to do a lot of socializing.
Still, Arthur was a former coworker, a good person, and, overall, someone who Alastor could get along with, unlike a great many-
"Arthur. Have they finally seen fit to give you a raise, for you to be away from your… ah, 'work,' if it can be called that?"
Alastor felt one eye widen. He could almost feel Arthur tense up next to him.
Moody just grinned as he spun around in time to see the look that always flashed across Malfoy's face every time he realized that he was talking to Moody when he didn't want to.
Which was always.
"Malfoy! How nice to run into you again! I haven't seen you in a long time," he said, staring knowingly into the man's eyes as a maniac grin lunged onto his face.
Lucius Malfoy knew that they hadn't seen each other in a long time. In fact, that was precisely the way he wanted it: to never see him again.
Unfortunately for him, Moody wasn't dead yet, and until he did kick the cauldron, he'd enjoy causing the man as much discomfort as possible.
And he didn't nearly sprint towards the peacock out of some ingrained sense of justice or anger at knowing that Malfoy was one of the few that Moody caught who had not been locked up in Azkaban.
Honestly, Moody admired certain things about the blond snake. His industriousness, his willingness to use the law to his best advantage, and his adherence to his ideals were all admirable…
Or they would be, if he wasn't a complete and utter bastard.
His ideals were shit. Moody had been shown dozens of times that elitism – 'blood purity,' as it was known in this corner of the globe – didn't really work out in the long term… especially in the long term.
And of course, everything else even slightly admirable about the man went down the drain thanks to those shit ideals. His willingness to use the law was only insofar as it continued his racism and power growth instead of trying to do something useful.
He somehow managed to keep a straight face as Moody violently limped towards him. "Ah. Alastor Moody."
He grinned wolfishly. "Wonderful that you still remember me, Malfoy. Be unfortunate if you forgot one of the DMLE's best Aurors, like you forgot your own-"
His growling speech was cut off quickly. "I was cleared of charges, Moody, as I hope you remember. Although, with your… tendencies , I wouldn't bet against you conveniently 'forgetting' those trials while attempting to harass a hardworking member of society."
Moody snarled, twisting his grip on his walking stick as if he were angry.
Ha! As if. That was a pretty good jab, all things considered. He'd actually been planning to spend a few weeks of his retirement seeing exactly how far he could push the former Death Eater.
He quickly spun around. "Arthur. I'll meet you at yours on the fourteenth around, say… six twenty three?"
Arthur looked ready to say something, but a quick look behind Alastor reminded him that Malfoy was still there. He just nodded sharply and walked past Moody, brushing against Malfoy as he walked by.
Malfoy whirled, ready to hurl invectives against Arthur, but Moody spoke up, reminding him of his unfinished argument. "Going to burn these robes, Malfoy? I wonder if I'd find anything more… deathly in your wardrobe. I won't ask you to prove anything of course – I'd hate to eat my words."
Malfoy turned slowly, glaring at him. Moody could see, though, that he was holding his cane in the way that would allow him to pull out his wand in an instant. "May I remind you, Moody, that I wouldn't be blamed for any… accidents found staining my wards."
Moody grinned at him in a way that made a Goblin seem friendly. "Sure. If they were legal. Or if you had enough money."
A brief wave of confusion washed over his face, and Moody rudely barreled into him as he walked towards the fireplaces.
While externally brooding, he cackled inside. He was counting that as a win.
Malfoy would be thinking about his mention of his wealth – something Moody never ordinarily touched when insulting his Death Eater ilk – all day, wondering if it was a threat of some kind, or if he'd finally gone insane.
Moody thought of the stone back at his house. He'd send it to the Flamels, of course… but he needed to make a lot of money very quickly. Amelia would appreciate it, and imagining the absolutely flabbergasted look on Malfoy's face when he found bars of gold banished onto his property would entertain Moody for hours…
Though, perhaps he could use a few of his unique abilities and he wouldn't have to imagine?
He scowled. Of course, stepping outside his home like this was a risk. Malfoy's gold and influence were omnipresent, and leaving too regularly might give him the chance to try and have him killed…
He frowned. He'd change the time of his arrival at the Burrow. Come earlier, scan the property…
Just in case. Constant Vigilance was always key, especially when you had Being X and Death Eaters after you.
-OxOxO-
Harry Potter was, self-admittedly, not the most well versed person when it came to things like what was normal for a wizard.
Ron probably had him beat on experience and Hermione undoubtedly knew more theoretical stuff, to say nothing of the teachers in the castle, or even many of the other students. He was, however, very sure that his life was pretty abnormal for a wizard.
His scar and his life seemed pretty different from the norm, of course – he didn't ask around that much, but there didn't seem to be too many orphans in his year – but it was often smaller, more innocuous things that set his life apart from so many others, no matter how much he wished it were different.
For one, no one else was stared at as much as he was, and, for another, no one else seemed to have a hyphenated nickname.
Of course, the situation that had just occurred was not exactly innocuous.
He didn't think that many other people in his year had a House Elf appear in their rooms and admit to having stolen his mail, only to drop a cake onto possible business partners of their uncle after refusing to promise not to go back to Hogwarts.
But… just as his life had been a very odd one by many standards during his first year at Hogwarts, his life had continued to be weird during the summer.
In fact, the day after he had gotten back to the Dursley's house, he had begun to hear… voices.
Again, he was almost positive that no one else heard voices in their head.
He had, at first, dismissed it as his imagination – he was just getting bored after a year at a magical school – but…
Well, when his friends hadn't been returning his letters, he'd been frightened – just a little bit – that he had imagined everything and that he was going crazy.
Hedwig was a constant – and welcome – reminder that he had, indeed, gone to Hogwarts, and that he wasn't crazy. Plus, he could threaten to do magic, and his family acted scared, so he had to have gone to Hogwarts.
And that was another thing. One of the voices – because there were two, or maybe three, of them – was… pleased when he threatened his family like that, which was why he hadn't done it again.
Still, his friends hadn't responded to him, which worried him greatly for months.
And then, the first letter he gets all summer isn't from his friends, but from someone he'd never even heard of before.
Well, while he hadn't ever heard of Alastor Moody, the man had said that he had been a friend of his parents during the first war against Voldemort, and that he would be his teacher for the next year. He'd told him a whole lot about his parents he'd never known before-
Even things he'd personally disagreed with, apparently. When Dumbledore or one of his teachers mentioned how his parents would be proud of him, they always agreed with whatever he was doing. This man who would be his teacher, apparently, had mentioned how his father's pranks had often infuriated Moody – and then he'd told him how to do one of the pranks!
It… well, Harry knew about not talking to strangers – you never knew when one would have Voldemort underneath their turban or something – but this person seemed… not nice, but honest, which Harry certainly appreciated after Dumbledore's talk of him not being able to understand things at the end of last year.
And then, after getting that letter and not much else, this House Elf named Dobby had shown up and made his family furious with him…
He sighed. Hopefully, this year would be calmer than the last one… though, considering how bizarre his life had been up to this point, it was undoubtedly going to be just as odd.
Maybe he could hope for things to be just a bit less life threatening, at least?
-OxOxO-
A/N 1: And so the story continues! Moody's life and relationship with others is fleshed out more, while something seems to be going on with Harry…
A/N 2: If you'd like to donate to support me monetarily, gain access to the monthly poll, and gain access to my (very long) summary of the KonoSuba Light Novels, search for Sugarcane Soldier on the website of the Patrons.
A/N 3: Many thanks to lekille, Afforess, and Twin for being Super Patrons,
And a big thank you to WarmasterOku for being an Ultra Patron.