"Sirius!" Moxxie blurted, alarmed by the sudden face that had materialized in the fire. Undoubtedly, though it was blurry and ever-shifting, it was the man he had met before in the alley. Without hesitating, Millie took the massive iron poker by the fireplace and began stabbing Sirius in the face. "Mill! Stop! That's my godfather," Moxxie exclaimed nervously, leaping over to stop her. Millie halted, but only slightly. She still held the poker threateningly in her hands, as if afraid Sirius would leap out of the fire and try something. "Oh," she said, looking a bit abashed but also like she was about to warn him off. "Sorry about that, Sirius," Moxxie apologized, trying to wriggle the poker lose from Millie's steely grip. "No problem," Sirius replied, puffing out some smoke.
His face looked a little off like Millie had rearranged his features. "Who's the DILF?" Loona asked. "He's made of fire, Loona," Blitzo remarked, eyeing Sirius warily and running a hand over his face. "I've seen worse," Loona shrugged. "I'm sorry if I've startled you," Sirius remarked, "but I thought it imperative to continue our conversation from earlier, Harry." Moxxie sighed, his frown coming almost automatically, now. "Listen, I've already decided that I'm gonna compete - I mean, the thing is tomorrow.
It's too late to back out, anyway." "If you insist on participating, then at the very least try not to advance to the next task." "Is there any way he could actually not advance to the next task?" Interrupted Millie excitedly. "Perhaps. Suppose he scores low enough or does something to get disqualified. I suppose it depends on the task" "Disqualified, huh?" Blitzo asked, a glimmer in his eyes. "I'm great at getting people disqualified from things." "You're also good at killing people." "Well, you aren't exactly people." "But what if he is?" Millie asked in a small voice, a shadow falling over her face. "I mean, he ain't dead, is he? And if he has to compete in his human form… is that your real form, Moxx? How did you turn into an Imp?" "Well, I-" Moxxie began. "I hate to interrupt, but I can only stay here for a short time. Whatever it is that turned you into an Imp, it doesn't matter: you might die or be fatally wounded.
Try to get disqualified, but it may be a fine line between winning and surviving," Sirius cut in. Moxxie let out a shaky breath. "Alright, so how do I survive?" "You must use every advantage you have. A giant bird, you said? Use the broom, Moxxie." "But I don't know how to ride- wait, you were the one who gave me the broom?" "You have it in you, Harry, and flying is in your blood.
Your father was a great Seeker," Sirius said, ignoring Moxxie's question. He vaguely remembered Hagrid's explanations of Quidditch and understood that his father had been, according to Sirius, a great player. It seemed to be on character - some wonder-boy his dad had been. It made sense that he had also been a jock. He couldn't help but feel very contrary to his parents. "Well, it's not like I have time to practice," Moxxie said, wringing his hands and looking to the ground. He felt like a chicken - and he was supposed to fight a giant bird? But he was only a tiny bird. "Tonight. It would help if you practiced Accio and flying. That is the best way to survive - but I insist, you must back out of this competition as soon as you can." Moxxie gulped, realizing how nervous he was about the whole competition thing. He was competitive, but somehow he still managed to suck at them.
However, if he was honest, he didn't really want to back out of the contest, not now that he was already committed to it - he felt a sort of urge to carry it forward, maybe even to excel at it. But it was clear to everyone in the room that Moxxie was not suited for this competition, and he suddenly felt the pressure of having everyone looking at him - not just his friends, but, at this point, the entire wizarding world. He drew in a deep breath and tried to steel himself. There was no way to back out of this anymore: if he had ever had any chance to do so, it would've been earlier, but not now.
There was no use in being a coward, but he found that he couldn't help his fear or hesitation, and he wondered whether that same unavoidable trepidation wouldn't be the very thing to get him in trouble.
It was weird how he could simultaneously desire it and also be deathly afraid of it. Sirius, like everyone, saw how uncomfortable he was. "You can do this, Harry. If anyone can, it's you," he said, and Moxxie just wanted to scream at him that he wasn't Harry, that the person that could do something like this just wasn't him, that during this whole sequence of events, starting from his landing in Hogwarts, they had gotten the wrong guy.
He felt an awful disconnection between him and this 'Harry' person that everyone kept talking about, and the worst part of it was that he could almost feel the Harry within him, and his body reacted in ways that he couldn't predict, new desires and emotions surging from that part of him that had been disconnected from his consciousness for so long. He hung his head, took another deep breath, and by the time he had fully exhaled, Sirius' face was gone from the fire.
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He wanted to be sure that he would spend all his time with Moody wisely. So, with the watchful eyes of the Imps and Loona, he insecurely pulled out the wand that they had stolen and practiced repeating Accio time and time, swishing the wand around in a motion that he hoped was the right one. "Accio pillow," he pronounced loud and clear, moving the wand around spastically. Was he even supposed to be moving it? He had thought that using a wand would be pretty straightforward, but now that he was doing it, he found that he had many questions.
The pillow he was pointing at just wiggled a bit and then stopped moving, a living example of his insecurity and lack of knowledge. He sighed and then tried again. And again.
The whole thing had lost its charm, and by midnight he was doing it halfheartedly. He said goodbye to the Imps, who actually wanted to come with him to see him train with Moody, but he completely blew them off. There was no way Moody would accept them coming with him. Still, it was hard to keep them off his back, and it didn't help that he wasn't in a particularly assertive mood.
He really did want the support they provided, but he would feel pressured, and, really, Moody would not like it at all. He took the stolen wand, leaving the other one behind, tucked the broom under his arm, and set off to find Moody. As before, he was waiting for him grouchily at the top of the stairs. This time, the man didn't complain. "I want to practice two things," Moxxie said, trying to hold his own as best he could against Moody's imposing figure. He cleared his throat. "And what would that be, Mr. Potter?" Moody grumbled, lumbering down the stairs. "Flying and the Accio thing." Moody huffed, but he didn't object to Moxxie's request. Instead of stopping where they had gone before, Moody kept going down the stairs, right to the bottom floor, and then he led Moxxie to the Quidditch field.
He realised with some relief that Moody would now teach him how to fly, but his relief soon melted away when he realised that Moody would teach him how to fly. In the fresh night air, the moon illuminating the Quidditch field beautifully, Moxxie felt at peace and almost invigorated.
He repeated his positive affirmations quietly so that Moody might not hear them, trying to gather the courage to do what must be done. Not just now, but for whatever craziness might happen tomorrow. "Very well, Mr Potter, broom out."