Chapter 27: The Bloom is Off the Rosier

Alastor Moody surveyed his troops, his walking stick stamping little indentations into the sandy dirt as he patrolled up and down the line of Order members. Most of them appeared hungry to do battle, particularly Potter and Black. A few appeared nervous. Moody figured it was an indicative reaction to Barty Crouch's recent edict, granting permission to Aurors (and Order of the Phoenix members) full permission to employ Unforgivable Curses against their enemies, the Death Eaters.

Scanning the row of faces, Moody wondered just how many had ever cast an Unforgivable in their lives. For the sake of the law, he hoped the answer was zero, as the casting of Unforgivables was still illegal by wizarding law – or at least, illegal to any witch or wizard who didn't have the proper magical law enforcement rank and authorization. Alastor came to a halt and studied both James Potter and Sirius Black closely. He didn't exactly want to be in the practice of prejudging fellow Order members, but if either of these two daredevils were green in the ways of the Unforgivables, then he was Albus sodding Dumbledore.

"Whatcha doing out here tonight, Jamey boy? Ya got a pregnant wife waiting at home!"

James simply cocked his chin confidently, if not quite defiantly. "Lily will be fine."

"Sure. Unless ya make her a widow this night!" Moody grunted. He couldn't tell with the moon, but he thought the swaggering Potter might have paled at least a little bit. "Just don't get cocky, lad. If you do, I'll make ya Apparate straight home! Already enough young-ins growing up orphans or in broken homes!"

Sirius clapped a hand on his best mate's shoulder. "I'll look after him, Mad-Eye."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Moody grumbled under his breath. It did no good when a bloke with a death wish had watching his six another bloke with an equally fervent death wish. He knew Black and Potter were likely still reeling from the recently confirmed defection of Peter Pettigrew, their erstwhile friend. And Remus was still out in the field, spying behind enemy lines. That dangerous double life had led to some tension between the mates whenever Remus was recalled back to headquarters for debriefs. Espionage was a dangerous business, enough that the truth sometimes could not be shared, even among those believed to be trusted friends.

Moody pointed in the short distance to the little farmhouse, its windows seemingly dark, situated here in the Huyton countryside. "All right, ladies and gents, this won't be like yer mum and yer dad's nice, clean raids. We go in and take as many pureblood supremacist numpties as we can. I know you're all aware of Mr. Crouch's recent edict. In light of this, take prisoners alive if you have to, but be ready to cast to kill. Any of you not comfortable with this, you may opt out; there be no hard feelings for those who do." Moody paused in his pacing to fix James Potter with a hard stare, but the lad didn't budge. Bollocks of steel, this boy had. He sighed. "We're going to do a short Apparation to the target. Wands up and at the ready!"

Aurors and Order members alike lifted their wands into defensive position – the signature pose preceding a wizard's duel. Moody counted down:

"On the count of three! One….. two….. – good luck, everybody! – THREE!"

The group of Aurors and Order members Disapparated and reappeared close to two hundred yards away, directly in front of the farmhouse target.

"STUPEFY!"

"CRUCIO!"

"IMPERIO!"

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Almost instantly, shouts of various spells rent the air, followed by bolts of light and curses as Death Eaters now appeared in their dark and billowy robes, swirling, slicing, trying to fight their way out of the summit now unceremoniously broken up. Moody stamped his walking stick and a bolt of magic burst out like an energy charge from the impact point, lifting a Death Eater off his feet enough that the man's mask was dislodged. By the light of the full moon, Moody recognized him as his opponent went sprawling, tumbling end over end through the air and crashing in a heap.

"Expelliarmus!"

As a dazed Igor Karkaroff struggled to stand, Black suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere and disarm the Death Eater.

"Stop him!" Frank Longbottom hollered, diving into the fray from Moody's right. "Don't let him get out!"

With James Potter at his heels, the three men, along with roughly four others – Aurors all, including Kingsley Shacklebolt – surrounded Karkaroff and pointed their wands at his throat from more than half a dozen different directions. Karkaroff surrendered instantly, raising his hands to shoulder height as Black finished formally confiscating the bastard's wand. Magical cuffs were placed on the prisoner's wrists.

"Igor!" Moody turned to see a pair of Death Eater figures whirling out of the darkness, dashing forward in a futile attempt to aid their comrade. James and Sirius glanced at each other and grinned.

"Imperio!" They chorused, each pointing a wand at one of the Death Eaters before their adversaries could finish pulling out their wands.

Moody didn't hear the telepathic orders that were given, but he watched as both Death Eaters removed their masks, seemingly of their own accord (though he knew that wasn't the case). Their faces were revealed to be Antonin Dolohov and Corban Yaxley. Both Death Eaters quietly, and again seemingly voluntarily, surrendered their wands to Potter and Black before holding out their wrists almost happily to be arrested. It was almost too easy, how the pair of Marauders took two prominent supporters of the Dark Lord prisoner and, like with Karkaroff, led them away.

"MAD-EYE!"

Moody whirled about to see Evan Rosier break through a line of Order of the Phoenix fighters and charge him in a blind rage. "You're mine, old man!"

"Come and get me, then, laddie!" Moody growled and slashing with his wand, he began to duel. Rosier gave it right back, his face twisted into a permanent snarl.

"The Dark Lord wants you dead, ya crazy coot!"

"I imagine so," Moody replied gravely. "But he ain't getting me dead, nor alive neither!"

"Crucio!" Rosier howled.

Moody blocked it lazily, sending the bolt of light spinning into a tree trunk, blasting the bark apart. "Yer gonna have to do better than that, Rosier! You've turned into a delicate little flower, as your name suggests!"

Rosier sneered. "I have not yet begun to fight!"

"Neither have I," Moody mockingly bowed before the opponents launched into another steady barrage. By now, others who had managed to best their foes, either by killing them or rounding them up, were actually pausing to watch the duel. Watch as the earth became cracked and hot at Moody and Rosier's feet, hot enough that little pockets of flame caught ablaze tiny acres of the prairie grasses.

"Stay back, laddies!" Moody growled, waving away Potter, Black, Longbottom, Gawain Robards. "This gutter worm is MINE!"

Rosier brawled on, not knowing when to lay down like a dog and die.

"Surrender, son. You're under arrest for high treason to the Ministry!"

"You're the one committing treason, denying the vision for this country!" Rosier bellowed.

Moody did a quick sweep of the terrain. A handful of Death Eaters were now bound and gagged, and at least two more lay dead. The rest appeared to have fled. Igor Karkaroff was nowhere in sight, though he thought he had seen the dark wizard being Disapparated away by Hephaestus Gore, one of his close Auror friends.

"Rosier….. don't make me kill you!..."

"I'll NEVER be taken alive!" Rosier screamed. "Locomotor Mortis!"

"Protego!"

The Leg Locking Curse bounced back onto its caster, causing Rosier's legs to seize up so that he tottered over and collapsed to the earth with a howl of surprise. Moody strolled calmly up to his fallen opponent, glaring down at the young but hardened Death Eater.

"You are beaten. Come quietly, and you may stand to negotiate an agreement with the government."

"Fuck you, ya Mad Eye cripple!" Rosier spat at Moody's feet. "I'd rather get put down like a dog…. and while taking ya with me!"

Rosier then, despite his legs being paralyzed, made a furious and desperate lunge for Moody's walking stick, trying to wrest it away and nearly succeeding.

Moody tossed out the curse without thinking. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A flash of green light, a finally death-rattling roar, and Rosier's body suddenly went chillingly still.

For a moment, all was quiet on the little farm. Then throaty, hearty cheers went up, first from Black and Potter, then John Dawlish, quickly spreading to others. The Aurors and Order of the Phoenix recruits gathered around a wizened and flush with victory Mad-Eye, clapping him on the back.

"Rosier dead!" a young Andromeda Tonks marveled. "What a coup this is, Alastor! The possible successor to the Dark Lord himself murdered – people will be talking about you and this night for years!"

"It's why he's madder than all the rest!" Sirius crowed, manhandling an arm around Moody's shoulder.

"Hush, boy. Ain't no better than any other bloke or lady who fought this night," Mad Eye admonished. He straightened his eye-patch over his socket. "Andromeda, my dear, do you suppose Aberforth would be opposed to pouring a spot of brandy?"

James seemed deeply amused that Moody's only reaction to pulling off such a critical casualty was to ask for a drink. "Only so long as Sirius is buying! Drinks back at Grimmauld Place!" he hollered, eliciting tired and parched, yet relieved cheers from all heroes assembled. A drink seemed only too proper to convey pride in a raid well executed, a job well done.