Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you so much for the wonderful reviews!

I absolutely loved your reaction to the whole "nerds are the ones who invent spells" concept. It just cried out to me as so obvious. Honestly, I think my husband would be one of those who would do such a thing, if he was a wizard. He's a total nerd, and believe me, that's far from an insult. I completely love his nerdiness. The world needs nerds - what would we do without them?

Okay, here's the next chapter. Some of you might want to kill me by the end of it.

Still, I hope I do okay with it.

xxxxxxxxxx

Sturgis Podmore and Dillen Philand sat in the Leaky Cauldron, enjoying a drink and a bite to eat. They had just had a fascinating interview, and Sturgis was thoroughly impressed by his intelligence and his pure love of magic. Talking to him was like getting sucked into a vortex, and Sturgis could freely admit that he had fallen into it completely.

Philand had been exceedingly gracious, allowing the interview to be conducted in his home. He had offered drinks and refreshments, and the interview had lasted longer than Sturgis had predicted. He had honestly lost track of time as they discussed magic in all of its forms, and exactly how spells worked. Sturgis had done some study of this in the past, but talking with Philand had been utterly enlightening.

There would be a lot to explain at tonight's evening gathering with the Order. Sturgis was very excited by the prospect, and what their reactions would be. Philand's stance on Muggle technology and his ideas of how to combine it with magic were thrilling. Sturgis felt the energy thrumming through him, and he was inspired by Philand's motivation and his hope that he could make a difference.

After the interview came to an end, Sturgis honestly felt like he just couldn't stop talking to Philand. The other man, with his bright smile and his welcoming demeanor, had suggested that they venture into Diagon Alley and enjoy the atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron, and they could continue their conversation there. Sturgis had readily agreed, and now, here they were.

The discussion was still very animated as they enjoyed their food. It wasn't very busy in the pub today, and Sturgis knew that it was because of the war. People felt much less safe leaving their homes, for obvious and understandable reasons.

Still, there were some that were willing to take that risk. Sturgis was not one of those who was afraid. He would not allow Voldemort and his Death Eaters to dictate what he did with his time, and, looking at Philand who was sipping his butterbeer across from him, he saw that light in his eyes and knew that he agreed. Plus, both of them were good with their wands and if, Merlin forbid, something did happen, they felt that they could assist in protecting others from harm.

"I really have to thank you," Philand said as he took a bite of his chocolate muffin. The look of delight on his face as he munched on it almost made Sturgis laugh - he looked entirely like a child as he basked in the simple pleasure. "You've been most accomodating."

"Me?" Sturgis asked, grinning. "No, that's you. You really do have a nice home."

Dillen just kept smiling, his eyes shining. "Why, thank you," he said lightly, but then his expression grew more serious. "Really," he added, his voice growing quieter. "Thank you. Thank you for allowing me to assist you and the Order."

Sturgis's tone matched Philand's in seriousness. "You're welcome," he said sincerely. "I was more than happy to meet with you."

There was silence for about a minute as Philand continued to eat his muffin, and Sturgis ate his cream cheese croissant. Then, Philand broke it by saying, "This war."

Sturgis waited for him to continue, but he didn't. It wasn't even a complete sentence - but Sturgis understood. Those two simple words - "this war" - somehow spoke of everything that was happening. The meaning behind them was obvious. "Yes," he agreed, his eyes darkening. "This war."

Looking back on this moment, their utterance of the phrase seemed like an ominous premonition. Only moments after they'd both uttered it, screams rang out outside the pub.

Sturgis didn't think he'd ever seen someone jump out of their chair so quickly. Dillen Philand's expression was almost manic as he rose to his feet, his muffin and butterbeer forgotten. Sturgis rose at the same time, his wand already up, his mind focusing on a happy memory.

... Tears streamed down his face, tears of pure joy and love. His heart was full to bursting, and he thought he would literally explode with the feelings swarming him as he held a precious bundle in his arms. Benjamin Podmore was beautiful. He, Sturgis Podmore, was a father. ...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

His cat Patronus burst out of his wand, its sheer power almost blinding. Sturgis wasted no time - he thought of all those he wanted to send a message to, all of the Order members he needed to inform of what was happening. "Diagon Alley is under attack. Come now." The message was simple.

No sooner had he sent his Patronus on its way, than he and Philand ran out of the Leaky Cauldron and onto the street. A blast of cold hit him as he and Philand ran onto the scene.

It was far colder than it was supposed to be, and it was blindingly obvious why. Sturgis would know the feeling of Dementors anywhere.

It didn't take a genius to figure out why they were here. It wasn't at all a surprise to realize that there were Death Eaters embedded within the Ministry. Obviously, there were many Dementors at Azkaban, but there were others who were elsewhere. After all, the Ministry had sent many of them to Hogwarts two years ago in order to protect the school from Sirius. It unfortunately made total sense that Death Eaters would know how to maneuver them into the right position to be here.

Sturgis's mind ground to a halt, because just then, the memories came.

... He was sobbing, tears choking his throat, screaming out apologies as he was thrust into a holding cell, with Auror John Dawlish leering down at him. "Stealing from Diagon Alley, eh?" he sneered. "You're only sorry you got caught." ...

... "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" A boy who was barely out of Hogwarts was wailing, pleading, as Sturgis and his fellow Auror, Williamson, conducted an interrogation, and Sturgis couldn't help the constant flashbacks that buffeted him - he had been that boy once. ...

... He couldn't make sense of anything. He couldn't even feel the hand Kingsley had placed on his shoulder as his wife lay Stunned on the couch after having threatened to take Benjamin away and "stamp the magic out of him". ...

... Sturgis's heart felt like it was being crushed within his chest, leaving it a torn, bloody mess as he watched the Hogwarts Express carrying Ben away with it. ...

... "I'm sorry," Kingsley was saying, and Sturgis's ears were ringing. "I'm ... I'm so sorry. Boris ... he's gone." ...

... His Auror partner, Robert, was choking, gasping, crying out in agony as the Death Eater held him under a blood-boiling curse, and Sturgis struggled to his feet, coughing and feeling feverish and dizzy, his body not having yet recovered from the illness that just wouldn't leave him. ...

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Once again, his cat Patronus seemed to leap out of his wand as Sturgis focused again on the feeling of baby Benjamin in his arms, a brand new life that he had been essential in creating, a tiny life that was so precious and so incredible, a tiny life that Sturgis would give his own for.

The cat Patronus mowed down the Dementors as they advanced on the innocent people in Diagon Alley, and he could see that Philand, too, had been successful in casting one, as his own flamingo Patronus was scattering yet more Dementors.

"Go! Go! Go!" Sturgis sent his Patronus further down the street as more screams rang out. He and Philand ran after it as he saw people jostling towards the Leaky Cauldron, trying to escape from the danger.

He was gratified to see several other Patronuses stopping the Dementors, and the people casting them were Aurors, several whom Sturgis recognized. He knew that Aurors were constantly taking shifts in Diagon Alley, no matter how many people were there at that time. There was something rather surreal about seeing a variety of animals completely made out of light.

His own advice to the Order came back to him as they sat around him during their evening gatherings. "We combat fear with joy." He had never spoken so seriously, needing the Order to understand, desperate for them to listen to him. "Fear is what Voldemort and the Death Eaters thrive on - they want us to despair. They want us to stop living. We don't listen to them."

And now, as he kept control of his Patronus, as he refused to let the bad memories in his past stop him from helping those in the present, he was so glad he had figured this out. His past was littered with unpleasant memories, but there were so many more good ones. He felt as though this mirrored the world - sometimes, life seemed like nothing more than pain and suffering. But this was far from the truth - there was so much beauty, compassion, kindness, and love, and in times like these, that was easy to forget.

But Sturgis did not forget this as he and Philand helped the Aurors to guide terrified people into the Leaky Cauldron and to the Floo. They went as quickly as they could, wanting to get as many people to safety as possible. There was no unnecessary talk, no dawdling. There was nothing more important than assisting those in need.

Unfortunately, as was the case for all battles like this, Sturgis didn't fail to notice that there were several people on the ground who weren't getting up. They were still breathing, as their body was still functioning - but that was all. Whatever had made them who they were ... that was all gone. Sickeningly, the Dementors had succeeded in taking several souls with them, subjecting them to a horror that even someone as strong as Sturgis shuddered to imagine.

Don't fall apart, Sturgis told himself staunchly as he and several other Aurors Levitated the bodies into the Leaky Cauldron, where they were promptly Flooed to Saint Mungo's. From there, it was up to the families to decide how to handle them. Sturgis felt his stomach sink at the heartbreak that those families would go through at the knowledge that their loved one's soul had been taken.

There was speculation that, with the Dementor's Kiss, the soul couldn't even move on to the afterlife. Sturgis, having experienced much loss in his life, had always been comforted by the fact that when a loved one died, they weren't gone forever. The fact that there were ghosts was proof that there was an afterlife. With the Dementor's Kiss, it was very likely that you would never see that particular loved one again. Sturgis couldn't think about this too much, because otherwise, he would be no good for anything. He had lost several friends like that, and shed countless tears over them - but now was not the time to focus on it.

He remembered his old mentor, Benjy Fenwick, who had trained him. "During a battle," he had said, his face deadly serious, "every second counts. You must not let emotion get the best of you when you're making sure that you and others around you survive. Every second of hesitation could cost you and anyone in your vicinity everything."

It was something that Sturgis had already worked out on his own without Benjy having to tell him. It made complete sense, and Sturgis followed that rule to the letter. If he didn't, it would only cost more lives. That, however, didn't mean it was easy - not at all.

As Sturgis and Philand stepped outside again, they saw several Order members jumping into the fray. Kingsley stepped up beside Sturgis, his eyes alert, his own lynx Patronus getting rid of the last of the Dementors. He shot Sturgis a quick, intense look, which he returned. There was no time for conversation now, because Sturgis had a feeling that this was not over yet - the Dementors were only the beginning.

And he was right. Those demons might be gone, but others took their place. These demons wore white skull masks and wore black robes, and they seemed to all come out of nowhere, as if knowing that the Aurors and Order members would repel the Dementors and they were the second act of this horror show, one that had no intermission, no time for anyone to breathe.

More screams rang out as the Death Eaters began their assault on everyone that was left in the alley. Sturgis could only be thankful that many of the civilians who had been in the alley had made it to safety. There was still one here and there, but the fight mainly consisted of Aurors and Order members.

"Reducto!" shouted a Death Eater with a rough voice, the spell sailing at Sturgis. Quickly, he deflected it, flinging a strong Stunner back at him, and he threw himself out of the way.

Sturgis, Kingsley, and Philand started all-out duelling the Death Eaters. It was fast and messy as they ducked, dodged, weaved, and threw themselves out of the way of spells. Sturgis couldn't concentrate on anything except taking as many of Voldemort's minions down as possible.

He felt the adrenaline roaring inside him, and he felt the blood pumping through his veins. It was the same feeling he had always wanted to experience as a child, and as a Hogwarts student, he had sought it at every opportunity. He wanted that energy, that thrill, that buzz. He didn't want to sit in boring classes - he wanted to feel alive.

But he had never wanted it to be like this. He had never wanted a war, where innocent people got hurt and his fellow Aurors and Order members were fighting for their very lives. As Sturgis continued duelling Death Eaters, he heard voices of other Order members fighting alongside him. He wondered fleetingly how many of them had arrived on the scene after receiving his message. As the battle progressed, he heard some familiar voices - he thought he heard Alastor Moody's growl, Hestia's shout, and Tonks's fiery passion as she cast spells.

Beside him, Dillen Philand was unable to avoid a bone-breaking curse that hit his wand hand. His face contorted in pain, but he didn't cry out. Quickly, he switched his wand to his other hand and continued the duel, although it was clear he wasn't as comfortable with using his wand in his other hand. Still, he was impressive, but Sturgis and Kingsley did their best to cover him. Sturgis refused to let fear get the best of him - there was no time.

During a very brief second of respite, Kingsley said, "I sent a signal for reinforcements. They should be here any minute."

"Understood," Sturgis said at once. As Kingsley was now head of the Aurors, he was able to do this. Once they showed up, it would hopefully turn the tide of the battle.

Suddenly, a scream rent the air, and Sturgis recognized Tonks's voice again. This time, however, it was not the sound of a spell being cast, nor was it the sound of physical pain. No - it was the cry of someone who had just seen something horrible happen to someone else.

For a split second, Sturgis wanted nothing more than to run over and see what had happened. A thrill of fear shot through him, and his instincts were on fire. That sound was one of denial and grief.

But he couldn't, because more Death Eaters shot spells at him and his comrades. The battle was still very much in progress, and Sturgis couldn't let himself get distracted. He shared a very brief glance with Kingsley, who nodded. Dillen Philand, on his right side, was still fighting fiercely, his face still screwed up in pain, but he was still shooting spells from his wand at a very quick pace.

It was only a few seconds later that the sounds of the battle began to change. The Death Eaters' spells were more frantic and desperate as more Aurors swarmed onto the scene. Sturgis felt a burst of relief erupt in him, and Kingsley smiled, the expression almost feral. Dillen was almost out of breath - the pain in his hand must be astronomical.

The Death Eaters grew more scattered, and Sturgis felt triumphant. It seemed as though many of the ones that Voldemort had sent to attack the alley were not his most skilled. They had waited to attack until after the Dementors were repelled, after many civilians had fled to safety. What possible advantage could the monster have in sending out these particular men? They certainly could do a lot of damage, but there were supporters of his that were far more magically talented and could cost the Aurors and Order members a whole lot more lives.

It didn't take long to figure out, though, as Sturgis took advantage of the situation and was able, along with Kingsley and Philand, to Stun many of them, and bind them with magical ropes. Voldemort was apparently sending a message - he was testing his enemies. Things were only going to get worse from here.

Sturgis quickly turned to Philand, who was grimacing in pain from his broken hand. Quickly, Sturgis cast a spell on it to put it into a sling. "You need Saint Mungo's," he said quietly.

"I know," said Dillen, nodding. "I'll go once we all leave here."

He wanted to protest - he should go now, but the determination in the other man's eyes was not to be denied. He was obviously very concerned about all those he had been fighting alongside, and he wasn't about to leave no matter what Sturgis said. He did give Philand a pleading look, but the other man stubbornly shook his head, as Sturgis knew he would. "There are things more important than a broken hand." His voice was quiet, his face intensely serious. Right now, he wasn't the animated, jovial man Sturgis had interviewed only hours earlier. Standing before him was a warrior.

Sturgis watched as many of his fellow Aurors began the process of taking the Death Eaters into custody. Sturgis would have done the same, but since he was Order leader now and Kingsley was the leader of the Aurors, he took charge of who did what.

Sturgis felt his adrenaline begin to wear off, and he finally began to feel tired and sore from the strenuous battle. Unfortunately, a few of the Death Eaters had managed to escape, using the arrival of Auror reinforcements as their signal to flee.

He began to truly register the sounds around him as he looked around Diagon Alley, which had now been turned into a battlefield. Aurors and Order members were all around him, assessing injuries and seeing what needed to be done.

Tonks. He suddenly remembered Tonks's scream of grief - it came back to him vividly. As the adrenaline continued to wear off, the feeling of dread took its place. He knew what that sound meant.

He knew that something had happened to one of their own.

It had been fourteen years since he'd been through this, but Sturgis recalled with vivid clarity what it had been like in the First War when either an Auror or an Order member had fallen. Each person who fought in the war knew what they risked - but they put their lives on the line willingly. They always knew what fighting Voldemort and the Death Eaters might cost them.

Sturgis's heart felt exceedingly heavy as, slowly, he turned around. Philand and Kingsley followed his lead, doing the same thing.

The sound of sobbing made itself known to Sturgis, and he noticed that many Aurors and Order members seemed to be congregating around where the noise was coming from. Tonks was crying like her heart was breaking, and as Sturgis and his companions walked over to the scene, he prepared himself for what he might see. But he knew no amount of preparation would really allow him to be ready for what was about to come.

He'd never forget the day when his own mentor, Benjy Fenwick, had been found. He'd been blown to pieces at the bottom of his stairs, right there in his own home. He had been rather harsh and uncompromising at times, but he had become a beloved figure in Sturgis's life. He had become the Auror he was because of Benjy. His eyes had always been full of fervor, and he had been wholly committed to ending the war.

He had been one of the Order's best fighters, and he was murdered in such a brutal fashion. Sturgis knew now that it had been Peter Pettigrew who had betrayed him to Voldemort. He remembered those days of horror and uncertainty, of the Order scrambling, not knowing who the spy was. And he'd never forget the rage and betrayal he had once felt towards Sirius ... Merlin, he had misjudged him so completely.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he had sobbed over Benjy's broken body as Tonks was currently doing over whoever had fallen. Her cries echoed over Diagon Alley, and as Sturgis got closer, the dread mounted. As similar as this had been to the First War, there was one stark difference - now, he was their leader. He felt responsible for all of them. And now ...

He began to walk faster as he approached all those who were knelt around the body. Before he actually saw who it was, he saw a sight that surprised him, yet didn't at all. Emmeline Vance was holding Tonks as she sobbed. She was someone who showed very little emotion - she had become very hardened after the death of her entire family during the First War. Yet, in a moment like this, she was the one holding Tonks up. She wasn't shedding tears herself; the expression on her face was stony. But she didn't seem to have any problem with letting Tonks cry into her shoulder.

And then, Sturgis saw who had fallen. He felt his heart stop, and it plummeted all the way down to his stomach. He had been right - nothing could have prepared him for this loss. It was like someone had plunged a knife directly into his gut.

Alastor Mad-Eye Moody lay crumpled on the ground, unmoving. His magical eye whizzed around in its socket, and it seemed so ... vacant. His normal eye was staring lifelessly up at the afternoon sky.

Sturgis didn't realize that his knees had hit the floor, because he never felt it. He felt Kingsley fall to his knees beside him, and on his other side, Dillen Philand was still standing, staring down at the body before he carefully maneuvered himself to kneel with all the Aurors and Order members gathered there, in a silent vigil.

No one said anything. The only sound was that of Tonks's sobs. A few other people were shedding tears, but they were silent. Sturgis remembered that Tonks had been mentored by Moody, and she had only become a full-fledged Auror a couple of years ago. He knew how close she and Moody had become - although they had come into conflict at times, none of that mattered now. In truth, he was honestly like a second father to her.

Sturgis's mind seemed to be working sluggishly. It was like the whole world had come to a grinding halt. He felt Kingsley's hand gently touch his shoulder, and, slowly, he turned his head to look at him. Kingsley's eyes were glazed over, his head bowed as his mouth worked soundlessly. He was obviously expressing his sorrow over what had happened, but none of the words were out loud. They were little bits of words and phrases that Sturgis couldn't figure out, but that was okay. That was perfectly okay.

Out of all the people he had expected to fall, Sturgis hadn't ever suspected it would be Alastor Moody. He had seemed so strong and stalwart ... so ... invincible. He had spent years fighting, and he was so quick with a wand that he was a blur. He had taken so many dark wizards down - many of the Azkaban sentences were due to his efforts.

As the First War had dragged on and on, Moody had only become more embittered and harsh. He made no compromises, and there were times his words had made people very angry. He was also well-known for his paranoia, for his penchant for cursing first and asking questions later. When he'd lost his eye and gained the magical one, it only made him more intimidating. No injury was ever going to stop him.

But Sturgis had seen a change come over him during the last few months. Yes, he was still as harsh and paranoid as ever, and he had been known to upset other Order members with his sharpness. His experience last year - being locked in a magical trunk for so long - had made him worse in some ways. The trauma, understandably, had deeply affected him.

Yet, there was something softer about him as well, and Sturgis had very quickly realized the cause of it.

Harry.

He had inspired something in Moody. The man freely admitted his shortcomings - that he was paranoid, short-tempered, and felt like he had no soul left in him, no room for compassion or empathy or any of the other softer, warmer parts of humanity.

But Sturgis had known the man was wrong. Harry had brought out parts of Moody that he thought were long gone. Under his tutelage, Harry had also grown - and he'd seemed to understand him. He didn't appear upset or offended when the man spoke harshly - he just seemed to accept him as he was.

And now ...

Merlin, he was such a huge part of the Order. He was one of those people that many thought of when the word "Auror" came up. He was essential to fighting the war. Merlin ...

Someone finally spoke - it was Emmeline, who was still holding Tonks. Her sobs had finally subsided, and she was looking at Moody with a dull, listless, empty expression, her face red and swollen. "He was duelling Flint, Sr.," Emmeline said, speaking slowly.

Sturgis nodded solemnly. Marcus Flint, Sr. was someone who had always been under suspicion, but there had never been enough evidence to convict him ... until now. He had been one of those taken into custody, and though he'd been wearing a mask during the attack, it had been removed as he'd been tied up. Emmeline had obviously recognized the eyes.

Many of the Aurors and Order members jerked out of their vigil, the sudden sound of Emmeline's voice extremely jarring. It was like she'd broken a sacred moment. But Emmeline plunged on, as if needing to get it all out. "It was so quick," she said quietly. "Alastor ... I'm sure you've all noticed that he hasn't been as quick and steady on his feet after the events of last year."

Indeed, Sturgis knew that to be true. Though he was still one of the strongest Order fighters and was still just as willing to put himself out there in the thick of the fighting, his experience last year had slowed him down. It would have done that to anyone. Though he had almost fully recovered from his stint in his magical trunk, the horror of it had left a lasting scar.

"Flint took advantage of it." Emmeline spoke emotionlessly, but Sturgis could see a smoldering, frothing anger in her eyes. "He knocked him down, and threw a Killing Curse at him before he could even get to his feet. Coward." The last word was spat out.

Sturgis agreed. Death Eaters didn't know what a fair fight was. The etiquette of duelling was completely beyond them. They were ruthless, and brutal, and they took good people from the world without a second thought. Alastor Moody might not have thought he was a good person anymore, but Sturgis knew he was dead wrong.

Emmeline lapsed back into silence, and the atmosphere suddenly grew even thicker with the grief and sorrow that had everyone in its grip. Eventually, Tonks let go of Emmeline, and just simply knelt there, looking down at the man who had been her mentor.

Sturgis had come to know that many people who fell by the Killing Curse had, understandably, a look of fear and shock on their face. But Alastor Moody had no such look. It was as if he'd always known and accepted that this was coming for him. Sturgis thought back over everything Moody had said over the last few months, and realized that this was indeed the case.

"My skills are not what they used to be," he had said to Sturgis just last week. "I can no longer be depended upon as I once was." He was the last one at Order Headquarters after the night's evening gathering had come to an end.

"Don't sell yourself short, Alastor," Sturgis had replied. "Your self-deprecation does not do anyone any good."

Moody snorted, glowering at the other man. "It's not self-deprecation, boy. It's called realism," he barked.

Sturgis wasn't at all fazed by Moody's tone. "You went through a horrific ordeal last year," he said gently.

"An experience I could have prevented. I wasn't fast enough, and now it's even worse." Moody wouldn't stop glowering. "Do not placate me."

"I'm not," Sturgis said calmly. "Have you ever known me to do such a thing, Alastor?"

Moody didn't answer, having nothing to counter the argument. Sturgis patted him on the shoulder as they both stood near the Floo. "You will always be an extremely valuable member of the Order. Do not ever doubt that," Sturgis said firmly.

Moody just looked at Sturgis stonily. He could see Moody's exhaustion, his weariness. But he also saw his determination and his willingness to sacrifice everything to see this war finished, and to make the world a safer place for everyone - for Harry.

And now, Moody lay silently before him, and as the Order and Aurors kept vigil over him, there was something very intense in the air. Minutes passed, and still no one spoke. The very atmosphere spoke of sacrifice, of a legacy long in the making, of a man who had seen so much bloodshed and violence who was finally able to rest.

Time seemed to be at a standstill. There didn't even seem to be a breeze - not even a light one. It was as if the whole world was holding a sacred moment of silence for the man lying so still before his Order and Auror comrades. The only movement was when the warriors moved closer to one another, laying hands on shoulders, comforting each other in this moment. Sturgis thought that this, above all, was what separated them from the Death Eaters. They cared for one another, were there for one another, and mourned their fallen together. This was one of these moments when you truly understood what it was to be human.

Sturgis honestly had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that there was a moment when he finally looked up, and it seemed to take an enormous effort to do so. Slowly, tenderly, his heart feeling like it was being twisted within his chest, he reached out very, very gently, and removed the magical eye from Alastor Moody, closing the eye socket. Then, he closed his normal eye, and maneuvered Moody's hands so he honestly looked like he was asleep.

He could hear more movement from the other Aurors and Order members around him as they began to come out of their trance. From beside him, Dillen Philand spoke, his face creased with sadness. He hadn't known Alastor Moody well, but it was clear he was deeply affected by the others' sorrow. "What ..." He cleared his throat. "What do we ... do with him? Does he have any family?"

"No." Sturgis shook his head. "He doesn't. We ... we take him to Saint Mungo's. It's up to me to make funeral arrangements."

"Rufus Scrimgeour will help," Kingsley said, his voice low and soft. "He might be Minister now, but he was one of his Aurors for many, many years, and one of his best and brightest." He looked meaningfully at Sturgis. "And I will help, too."

There were nods from several of the other Order members and Aurors. "We'll do whatever we need to," Hestia Jones said. Her voice was shaking, and she was leaning heavily on Dedalus Diggle, who had his arm wrapped protectively around her.

Dillen Philand spoke up again. "This ... this goes without saying," he said quietly. "But ... obviously, we need to reschedule ..."

He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. Sturgis nodded, as did all the Order members. There would be no evening gathering tonight. Others could spend time together if they wanted to - everyone grieved in different ways, after all. But they all understood, instinctively, that Sturgis needed the time and space to grieve alone. He was their leader, and he needed time to process it. They had all come to understand just what he had taken on by accepting this position.

No one questioned it. Everyone just looked sadly at each other, and many went over to Sturgis, either embracing him or reaching out their hand to him, letting him know that they were with him. Sturgis closed his eyes, feeling the enormity of the moment.

And it was then, as they looked down at one of their fallen, and stood in silent support of their leader, that Hestia's voice rang out. It was shaking slightly, but the words were clear and melodious, holding everyone in their grip.

The circle.

It has no beginning, it has no end

Our shining torch, our dearest friend

You guide us yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Through incredible joy and unspeakable sorrow

The circle.

From beside Sturgis, Kingsley joined in, his and Hestia's voices combining, complimenting each other perfectly.

And when the darkness claims the night

You are the beacon, the candlelight

That makes the shadows disappear

With you beside us, we have no fear

The circle.

Tonks's voice was shaking too, but it was still strong as she joined them.

And when your skies do turn to gray

And you feel as though you've lost your way

Then let us be the candle that burns

'Cause what you give us, we give in return (in return)

The circle.

And Dedalus, still with his arm around Hestia, joined the three others to finish the song, their voices ringing out across the battlefield.

It has no beginning, it has no end

Our shining torch, our dearest friend

We'll guide you yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Through incredible joy and unspeakable sorrow

The circle.

There was a profound moment of silence after the song had concluded, and Sturgis felt tears pressing at his eyes as he accepted more handshakes and embraces from the Order members. Emotion was still thick in the air, even more now than before as several of the other Aurors shed tears. It was clear how close the Order had become, and how strong their bond was. It was obvious that the song had touched many hearts.

They all just stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and back down at their fallen comrade. The moment stretched on until Sturgis finally nodded at them all, signaling that it was time for them to go.

Tonks broke away from the group, her expression agonized again as she stared down at Moody. In the smallest voice that Sturgis had ever heard her use, she whispered, "I ... I can't leave him." No one tried to stop her as she knelt over Moody again, gently touching his hand.

Sturgis felt his heart breaking for her as Tonks murmured words that no one else could hear. He couldn't help but think of Benjy again as he watched Tonks say goodbye to her mentor. Eventually, Emmeline broke away from the group as well, and with more gentleness than Sturgis had seen from her in a very long time, she laid a hand on Tonks's shoulder. She didn't say a word, but her look said it all: I know you don't want to, but you have to leave now.

And Tonks didn't fight it. She'd said all she needed to say, but it couldn't be clearer that leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do. But she let Emmeline take her arm and guide her away.

Without a word, Sturgis and Kingsley raised their wands, and they solemnly walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, levitating Alastor Moody's body between them. Dillen Philand walked beside them, with the other Order members and Aurors following in their wake.

As they were about to enter the pub, Bill Weasley broke the silence, but he spoke very quietly. "I'll go and tell Harry and Sirius what's happened," he stated.

Sturgis nodded, his voice just as quiet. "Thank you."

There was no one left in the bar; Tom, the proprietor, had escaped to safety, and Sturgis was glad for it. He watched sadly as his comrades gave him, Kingsley, and Philand one last look, and said one last farewell to Alastor Moody. Several of them Flooed to Saint Mungo's, as they had minor injuries that needed healing.

At last, it was only Sturgis and Kingsley left; Philand had Flooed away to the hospital several seconds before. For a moment, Sturgis and Kingsley just stood there with their fallen warrior between them, before Sturgis nodded, signaling that it was time for them to do what they needed to.

The next few minutes had a very strange, surreal quality to them, and Sturgis didn't know how he managed to stay on his feet. All he knew was that he had to push through them, and it was an eternal comfort to have Kingsley beside him.

I can't leave him.

Sturgis would never forget Tonks's words as he and Kingsley prepared themselves to depart from the room that Alastor Moody was now lying in. He couldn't forget those words, because that was how he felt now.

He was the leader of the Order. He felt responsible for anything that happened to his comrades under his watch. Logically, he knew he couldn't be everywhere at once, and that he wasn't responsible for Alastor's death. Still, it didn't take away the feeling that he should have done something to save him.

And he didn't want to say goodbye. He knew that the next time he'd be anywhere near Alastor, he'd be lying in a coffin. He closed his eyes, feeling the steadying presence of Kingsley beside him as he spoke quietly. "Thank you, Alastor," he said simply. "For everything."

And he felt that this encapsulated everything he was feeling. There was so much more that he could say, so many more words and phrases he could use - but in the end, that was all that needed to be said.

Leaving Alastor in that room felt like one of the hardest things he'd ever done, and he knew that the only reason he could bring himself to do it was the fact that Kingsley was there beside him. There were words exchanged between them and the staff of Saint Mungo's, but Sturgis could feel everything fading around him. He was moments away from falling apart, but he had to wait to do so, just like he'd waited until he arrived home from King's Cross after dropping Ben off, just like he'd waited until he was with his parents after seeing that boy during that interrogation, that boy who reminded him way too much of himself. ...

And then, his wait was over as he arrived back at his home, back at Order Headquarters. He knew that everyone else in the Order would have the grace to leave him alone - they would give him the time and space to process, to grieve.

But he knew one person wouldn't - and he was exceedingly grateful for it. He was the only person he'd let come near him at this moment.

As he arrived in his home fireplace, he was only able to stand and take a few steps. He wanted to make it to his couch, but couldn't.

But it was all right. He was home now, and it was okay to fall apart. Only seconds after his arrival, Kingsley spun through the fireplace himself, and he got there just in time to see Sturgis collapse to the floor several steps away from the couch.

And it was there, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home, that Sturgis allowed Kingsley to hold him as they both wept for their fallen soldier.