Glory and Ashes
Maniac
"Of course, he is a maniac." Benjy says it so casually, between sips of his Firewhisky, that at first his companions do not register whom he is talking about.
It is Edgar Bones who gets there first. Edgar, who has only been in the Order a month, and is still finding his feet, but who can always be trusted to get to the root of what anyone is getting at. He puts his own glass down with a bang, and fixes his friend with a stare that would frighten a man who was more easily scared than Benjy Fenwick.
"Moody?" he demands. "You're talking about Alastor Moody? He's on our side… I thought the maniacs were You-Know-Who and his cronies."
Benjy shrugs and grins unapologetically. "There are different types of maniac," he says. "Bellatrix Lestrange and Mulciber and co are one sort; our Moody is quite another."
Caradoc Dearborn wipes his mouth after a long draught of ale, and smiles his slow smile.
"I see what Benjy means, Edgar," he says. "You've not been in a tight corner with Moody yet, have you? If you had, you might understand better. The way the man fights…" His voice trails off and he takes another swig of his drink. "Well, 'maniac' is about the right word for it, I guess. There's a reason he has those scars and only one leg and eye. I've never seen anyone fight like he does. Not even the maddest Death Eater."
"Nor me," Sturgis Podmore, who has been sitting quietly up to now, puts in.
Benjy nods in agreement. "That's what I meant, Ed."
"Just as well he's on our side then," Edgar says. He raises his glass. "To Moody. Long may his maniacal tendencies continue."
The others laugh and raise their glasses too. "To Moody!"