alastormagnusmoody

[alastormagnusmoody]

Moody turned and poured a cup, but did not take her offer to sit. He was still figuring out the... standing from a sitting position motion. It was painful. "I'll wait," he said shortly, sipping the hot beverage, "The squad is already organizing and mobilizing." Despite his mood, he couldn't help but let out a wry smile. "We've learned you're almost as eager as us to bring these people in."

Amelia had heard the quiet thud of Alastor's steps in the hallway outside her office before she'd looked up to find him stood at the other side of her desk. It was a sound that, like many others, she had become familiar with since the attack, but unlike many others in the department, it wasn't something she'd ever felt the need to bring highlight to.

She did worry about him, of course she did. You didn't know a person for the better part of two decades and not be worried about them when they've faced a life changing injuries. But it was a worry that she tried to keep to herself because she knew what he was like. Alastor Moody was not the type that took kindly to people feeling sorry for him. So when he had finally returned to work, she consciously made a point of treating him the same as she always had, while also trying to subtly gauge how he was doing to see if there was anything she could do.

"Have you got the time to sit and talk me through this one or do you want to leave it with me?" She asked, indicating to the seat across from her as she reached over to grab the file from the edge of her desk. "There should still be coffee in the pot behind you if you want it."

[alastormagnusmoody]

"Want to, no. But we need to. We can't keep being in the defensive." The idea that there was a possibility the youngest Black may defect was news to Moody. The Blacks and the Dark Arts were as tight knit as it went. The idea that one of their next generation, let alone both, would turn their backs on their family... the odds were astronomical. "Be careful." Because of the length of their friendship, he counted on Bones to be able to read into everything he left unsaid. "Do we have someone watching Amelia? She'll be a target in the near future-- she's put too many of them in Azkaban for them to keep letting her continue uninterrupted. If they're smart, they'll try to find a way to leverage her. Someone inside on the Wizengamot would be a great Ace in their pocket."

Alastor caught his attention when he mentioned it was time to strike back. Normally the man was one who was composed and liked to handle business with purpose. "Are you sure this is something you want to do?" Not that he against it. It was hard to sit idle with the chao embarking against them, especially with what happened to Frank Longbottom.

"Sirius Black?" If there was one thing he was certain about was him. "I'm in the process of trying to reach the youngest Black boy. He could give us intel. I can see it in his eyes that this isn't the life he wants." He took a moment. "And yes, I am certain he is with us."

[alastormagnusmoody]

The chaos of the battlefield may have shaken a lesser man, but Alastor Moody was no average joe. He'd been under fire more times than he could count with all ten fingers and ten toes. The auror whipped away from the oncoming unforgivable curse, rolling beneath the pew. The curse exploded next to him, searing a hole straight through his traveling cloak and sending wooden splinters rocketing into the flesh of his face, stinging like the lash of a whip across his skin. Blood began to gush from several of the deeper ones, obscuring the vision of his left eye. With a sharp intake of breath, Moody attempted to disapparate to just outside the church... and nothing happened. He remained where he was laying, breathing in the thick, black smoke that began to fill the Cathedral's hall. He was pinned. They'd put up wards of magic to prevent his escape, and he was clearly outnumbered. High, shrieking laughter echoed off the stone walls, and Moody was acutely aware of two things simultaneously-- one, the note he had received, instructing him to come here, was almost certainly not from Crouch, and two, if he remained where he was, he was almost certainly dead. Moody clenched his wand tightly, muttering an incantation as he rolled to his feet. With a flick of his wand he sent a pew rocketing toward the balcony where the curses had come from, and he darted for a nearby archway for cover. Once he was safely behind it, a silvery patronus sprung from the tip of his wand, soaring through a nearby stained glass window and into the night. He didn't know if, or when, the message would get through, but his life most likely depended on it. Skilled duelist or not, Moody was outnumbered at least 3 or 4 to 1. Alastor shot several curses at random into the darkened Cathedral, lit only by the dancing flames of the fire that was quickly spreading. The change in the air was so forceful it was almost tangible. Moody felt it, before he heard the sounds it made, and he felt a chill grow across his skin. All he could do hope beyond hope that his friends who answer his cry for help, grit his teeth, and that he could stay alive until then. Normally, Moody refrained from killing if at all possible. Tonight... tonight he would do what he had to do.

@xrodolphusxlestrangex

The group had a plan and Rodolphus made sure each person knew their place. He, Bellatrix, Rabastan, Evan, and Lucius. Everything they had done was leading up to a plot to lure Alastor Moody. It wasn’t hard getting him to come to the cathedral. Muggle bodies everywhere and the dark mark shining ever so brightly above. It was the easiest trap there could be and Moody was sure to fall for it.

Rodolphus was aching with anticipation after the mass murder — which was enough to get his blood going. It was thrilling and what was coming was just as much if not more thrilling. Killing a room full of muggles trying to worship followed by Moody? Sheer perfection. He couldn’t wait for his diabolical team to show Moody what they were truly capable of.

When he walked into the room, Rodolphus could see Moody’s face. A sneer crossed his lips as he reached for his wand. “Incendio!” he cast without saying a word. He didn’t hit Moody but that was just fine. He had much more coming to him. It was a warning of sorts. And seeing the crucifix the muggles worshiped burn brought joy to Rodolphus’ cold heart.

@bellatrix-lestrxnge

[alastormagnusmoody]

Where: The Ministry of Magic

When: Shortly after he start of the workday

Who: @amvlias

The once fluid figure of Alastor Moody stumped through the halls of the Ministry, every other step echoing through the halls with a quiet thud. He ignored the stares of other Ministry Employees-- it wasn't that he wasn't aware of them, but he put little stock into what others thought of him. He always had. It was one of the reasons Moody had not risen through the ranks of the Auror department. He was talented, and good at what he did. His arrest record showed that. But Moody didn't, and never would, engage in politics. He didn't care about decorum, or making friends. He was there to work. And work he did.

His anti-social demeanor often drew attention, and questions about his mental state. Since the attack, these questions had at least quadrupled. It didn't help that Alastor did little to quell the rumors. Let them think I'm mad, he thought. Let them underestimate me. I'll use that to my advantage. Moody walked into the office of Amelia Bones, who he'd known for nearly two decades. He'd attended Hogwarts with her older brother, Edgar, and the two had become fast friends. As Amelia entered the Ministry, she quickly made her mark. Alastor often went to her directly when bringing reports or evidence against an arrestee. He set a file down on the edge of her desk, his usually brisk demeanor no different today. "Another one for you, Amelia," Moody said quietly. While most inter-ministry messages were sent via owl, Moody detested the usual method for two reasons: One, owls created a bloody mess. And two-- owls could be intercepted. Ministry had his suspicions about whether or not Voldemort's followers had infiltrated the Ministry, and he wasn't about to let them get ahold of information that could keep some of them out of Azkaban. "Fairly routine. Need authorization for a raid this afternoon. Suspicion of muggle torture. Looking for evidence of participation."

[alastormagnusmoody]

Kingsley, Moody thought to himself, nodding. That was a good choice. The wizard was talented, and firm enough to handle young recruits." "It's time to strike back," Alastor said quietly, his fingers spinning his wand in his hand absentmindedly. "They're growing bolder. The Ministry has no leads, and I'm certain they're inside the Ministry itself. There's no other explanation for the information they're privy to." He grimaced, and unknowingly began to issue a thin stream of smoke from black smoke from his wand as the continued to twirl it, deep in thought. "How're sure are we about the Black boy? They'd love to have a person on the inside, and he doesn't exactly come from a stellar family." His searching eyes turned back to Bones. "You're certain he's with us?"

Edgar wasn't stupid, he could tell Alastor was ignoring his questions on purpose, which only seemed to make his concern for his friend grow. He could tell Moody was not the same since his attack, but there was part of him that had some hope that he would return back to the job and it would help him.

His head nods, not entirely sure how to reply. There were those within the Ministry that fought for a different cause, and some were hard to connect the dots, but it appeared this would be something the Order would have to figure out themselves. "I'll see if I can find anything." There had to be the right person to ask.

Edgar shakes his head. "I have taken on Marleen has a mentee." It was something they were still sorting out, but he had faith in her skills. "Kingsley will be working with her. We need someone with experience."

[alastormagnusmoody]

The Auror heard her approaching behind him, giving chase as he attempted to put space between them. Though there was a very strong desire within him to turn and curse her, out of a pressing desire for self defense, he knew it wouldn't do well to have an Auror blasting away a witch who was not outwardly being aggressive. Instead, he apparated, his body vanishing as he turned on the spot.

It appeared her words did elicit a reaction from the auror and Alecto couldn't resist to let the corners of her mouth twist into a sly smirk. She may have been unable to participate in his demise, that did not keep her from taking the opportunity to poke at his failings, in her own manner.

Alecto tsks at his growl. "I did not take you as one to be feisty, Moody. If we are going to act like a savage beast, it might be beast to put you on a leash." The witch lets out a small snort. "You wish to speak of standards, you are the last to do so." A more sternness to her tone. Unlike the filth in front of her, who would fornicate with those of non-pureblood, only showed how low his standards were.

"Don't rush away, Alastor." Not entirely ready to give up the game, she follows behind him. "Here I was going to ask you to tea." No she was not.

[alastormagnusmoody]

Moody pretended as if he had not heard Edgar's question, pulling a flask from the inside of his robes and taking a swig. It was water (this time). After the latest attempt on his life, Moody was no longer taking any chances. "Ministry has no leads on the ambush," He said quietly, placing the flask back into the depths of his traveling cloak, "Not one." His eyes turned to his friend, and he ignored the question that had been directed toward him. "Who is giving her the remedial training?" Alastor asked, all business. "Yourself? I'm not sure Remus or his group of friends are up to the task. As enthusiastic as they are, they are still young."

"There should be someone there." He knew how Alastor felt about it and tried to keep them in pairs when out. The last thing he needed to do was to let a family know about a death.

The last thing Edgar wanted to do was to push his friend to come back until he was ready. It was a learning experience for both of them, most of the time berating himself for letting Alastor take off the way he did. If they were together, he was certain this wouldn't have been the outcome.

"Activity has been high, meaning we have been doing almost doubles." He tried to keep the young ones on basic missions at the moment until they had more experience. "At the request of Remus Lupin, Aurora Sinistra is taking some extra training before going out. She put herself in harms way, and though I can understand why, it could have been worst and she needs to learn to use her magic and not her body." Considering her gift too, there was reason to keep her very much alive.

Edgar turns to Alastor. "How are you doing?"

[alastormagnusmoody]

As they mad it to a room, Moody's complexion was whitening with each second. "Alessia," The elder healer said to his partner, "Blood Replenishing Tonic, now."

The female healer quickly turned a cabinet in the room, unlocking it with a wave of her wand and scrambling to sort through the many potions to find the one she needed.

The elder healer magicked open the leg of Moody's pants, revealing the gruesome injury. The lower leg, which was missing from just above where Moody's knee should have been, had clearly been ripped away from the rest of the body, the skin hanging in ragged strips beneath the wound. The blood quickly stained the white sheets on which he lay, and Moody's eyelids began to flutter as he struggled to stay conscious.

The healer began to trace his wand in complex patterns at the end of the stump, muttering a long incantation in an attempt to stop the bleeding and seal up the leg. It didn't work. Startled, the healer looked up at Lily, his expression grim. "How did he lose this leg?" He demanded. "Was it dark magic?" It would be one of the only reasons the wound would not close.

The female healer rushed back with the correct potion, tipping it into Moody's mouth, and the elder healer pointed to a pile of fresh sheets on a counter across the room. "Grab those," He instructed Lily, "We're going to have to bind the leg, otherwise he's going to bleed out.

Lily supposed she had adrenaline to thank for how calm she was at the moment. From the moment she had arrived with other Order members to help Alastor, it felt as though it had all happened in slow motion, every little detail engrained in her mind. Any moment she was sure the shock would set in, but she was keeping it at bay.

She was able to apparate with Moody to St Mungos, thankful that neither of them had been splinched in the process. She knew she was coated in his blood, but her focus was on getting him to the door, wand still wrapped in her hand as she checked their surroundings. “Hold on….we’ve made it.” She breathed as someone opened the door and they made it inside.

She let the healers take over, though she was right behind them as they led Moody to a bed and headed in the direction of a room. As they asked what happened, she shuddered as the horrors of what had ambushed the man before her. The Death Eaters she was familiar with, but the Inferius had been…the things of nightmares. “An attack…” her voice held a slightly hysterical edge but she was still keeping it together. Finally her eyes went to Moody. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it in time….” If she could have just arrived minutes sooner, things could have been different. As one of the healers came to check on her she waved them off. “I’m fine! Just help him! Do whatever it takes!”

[alastormagnusmoody]

Moody growled audibly in frustration, his jaw clenching, his eyes closing as the older auror took a steadying breath to prevent an outburst of frustration. He'd been fighting back the wave of anger that was lurking just beneath the surface since the attack. The idea that a ministry official, one of the Ministry's top Aurors at that, could be ambushed and nearly murdered, was once laughable. Now, it had actually happened, and they didn't have a single witness or lead. Not one. Who were these people? How were they able to get to whoever, whenever they wanted? The only reasonable answer was one that Moody had suspected for a long time, one that others had scoffed at. These people had infiltrated the Ministry. If the Ministry of Magic was not safe, the need for the Order was tenfold. He'd need to speak to Dumbledore, and soon. Moody was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn't even seen the cup that was pushed toward him, nor had he realize she was already sipping one of her own. "Fancy a cuppa?" He murmured quietly, extending a hand to her in invitation for side-by-side apparition.

The world outside the ministry was getting darker and darker with each day, causing the witch to question how long it would take before the institution she had chosen to work for would admit to seeing the brew war for what it was. How many people had to disappear, get hurt or, in the worst of cases, left until their life had disappeared from their eyes? Despite it all, work did not simply stop. No matter what, Hestia Jones would keep going.

While most of the office may have turned to staring, wondering or whispering the very moment they heard the yet unfamiliar sound of a wooden leg stomping across the floor, the brunette’s attention remained on the papers and other evidence spread out across her desk in front of her. It wasn’t just the situation with Moody, no. There were plenty of cases similar or with ties she hoped to be clues. Anything that could help identify those behind the masks. Without the proof all they had were suspicions; plenty of them.

“Nothing more than the usual I’m afraid. Those among society that have voiced their views, or shown more radical behavior. ” Hestia let a frustrated huff escape as she reached for the steaming cup of coffee in front of her, sipping slowly. “I have combed through most of the cases we’ve had over the last few months. Some have ties, but with those damn masks pinning anything will be hard to do.” Her eyes shot up, finally looking at the man as she placed her own cup down to pour him one instead. Steady hands pushed the cup over.

“I wish I could tell you more.” There was no pity in her voice, perhaps a softness and understanding. Unless he’d mention what happened Hestia was going to stick treating it like any other case. “Those darn masks work far too well.” It left her feeling frustrated, more than she cared to put into words. - @alastormagnusmoody

[alastormagnusmoody]

Where: St Albans Cathedral, St. Albans, UK Who: @xrodolphusxlestrangex, @bellatrix-lestrxnge, @luciusmalfoyx, @rsrevan, @r-lestrcnge, @ggathena TW: Blood, Violence, Murder

With a loud crack, a large, cloaked figure appeared in the shadow of a large cathedral, wand in hand. Alastor Moody peered up at the building intently, his piercing eyes evaluating the building, from the stained glass windows lit from the inside, to the wide open front doors, seemingly calling to him, inviting him inside.

A piece of parchment had been delivered to his desk by an owl he had not recognized. Moody, working late into the night, as usual, had been the only one left in the office.

Though unsigned, Moody had recognized the messy handwriting of his head of department. The note read:

"Dark Mark seen in St. Albans, above the St. Albans Cathedral. Believed to be another muggle masacre. Head off the muggle authorities."

Another masacre? Moody had thought grimly, already reaching for his traveling cloak. Per regulations, he should have reached out at least to his partner, or the Auror team on call, but evidently his boss had known he routinely stayed late and would already be ready to go.

The Cathedral stood before him, dark and foreboding, but it was nothing compared to what was above it. Hung above the ancient structure, seemingly suspended among the stars in an eerie emerald light, a serpent protruded from the mouth of a skull, twisting and winding its way through the sky as if it was alive. The Dark Mark. Moody made his way quickly up the steps and into the building, his wand held at the ready. Each shadow could potentially hold an attacker, behind every door could be one of the masked terrorists they had been chasing. As he entered the nave, the horror of what had been done met his eyes. "Fucking hell," Moody breathed.

Bodies were strewn across the room, some slumped across pews, many lay about the floor as if they'd been killed while trying to flee. One body, the body of a priest, was sprawled across the alter at the front of the church, arms splayed out, blood slowly dripping from his fingertips to the floor. Puddles of blood littered the floor, and sprays of the crimson liquid covered the pews and walls, tinting the formerly beautiful windows a dark red in the dim lighting.

It was a massacre, indeed. Not spotting a wand among any of the bodies, Moody knew it must have been done by dark magic, as the damage to each corpse was too destructive to be done by muggle means. The masked lunatics they had been chasing had certainly shown a propensity for killing muggles for sport. But this was a whole other level of violence they had yet seen.

It was... sadistic, for lack of a better term. There was no other way to describe it. Pure sadism.

It was likely the pure atrocity of the scene that nearly cost the seasoned auror his life. He hadn't heard the footsteps behind him, nor the whisper of the incantation-- only the rushing sound of wind warned him of the curse that had been aimed at his back. Out of pure, base instinct, Alastor Moody threw himself to the side, landing in between two pews, and the blaze of light narrowly missed him and collided with the Crucifix at the front of the Church, which burst into raging flames.

[alastormagnusmoody]

Where: Ministry of Magic, Auror Department Who: @fcrox

The door to the bullpen opened to admit the battle-damaged wizard, who limped into the room, a heavy traveling cloak over his usual suit. Alastor Moody had previously been noticeably meticulous about his appearance, choosing to combat the rumors about his sanity with appearing wellkept. Face shaved, hair cut and combed, suit pressed-- these were often easily identifiable attributes of the seasoned Auror.

The man who was entering the workplace, his weird, lurching walk enough to draw attention by itself, had several days worth of stubble growing on his face. His hair, while combed, was growing longer that anyone had seen it in years, and his suit wasn't ironed. He stumped his way over to his desk, dropping the cloak over the back of his chair and immediately turning to his coworker.

"What have I missed?" Moody growled, picking up the large stack of memos that had been delivered to his desk in his absence and quickly sorting them into to piles: important, and not worth his time. "Any suspects in the ambush?"

[alastormagnusmoody]

"Anyone is capable of anything, given a strong enough push in the right direction," Moody said quietly, his hand relaxing from his wand, but not falling completely to his side.

"Something you ought to be familiar enough with, Vance." The Auror surveyed the crowd, his eyes watching each person as they passed the duo, no trace of relaxation or smile flickering on his scarred features.

"What brings you to Diagon Alley?"

The last few weeks had been hectic, filled with far too many things Emmeline would have very much paid a fortune of galleons to reverse or at least be allowed to pretend nothing had ever happened. But thus was life, and one hardly ever had the choice. In that way, the one popping up next to her in an alleyway she'd ducked into for a moment of quiet within a buzzing street had something in common.

It wasn't hard to recognize the other with how often she'd worked with the auror department, each and every time they'd needed one of the few curse breakers on standby for the ministry of magic. Many a time had she come over, a few doors down to answer questions one auror or the other had. Her shoulders tensed, despite it. "Moody. Is it really a good idea to be apparating into an alley like that?"

Of course, the events that had transpired regarding the auror and the actions of some of those she considered friends or allies wasn't unknown to her. Still, within the shadows that the witch preferred to walk in an air of secrecy was worth more than she could have put into galleons. A soft smile, amusement perfectly hidden within for none other than herself to know of, Emmeline glanced over to the other again. "Were you expecting me to curse you? I don't make them, I break them." Now, that was a lie, but he didn't need to know that. - @alastormagnusmoody

[alastormagnusmoody]

When Moody had seen who it was, his grip on his wand tightened. It was common knowledge among the inner circle that Bellatrix Lestrange was more than she presented to be. Of course, they knew who she'd kept company with at school. It didn't take a genius to see which way she'd been headed.

Moody knew the first time he'd met her-- it had been something hidden in her eyes tha had told him. The look of a caged animal, barely restrained by a leash or a chain, wanting desperately to sink its teeth into the flesh of another.

Her offer made his lip curl in distaste. "I'd rather die." It was short, blunt, and to the point. He would rather die than dip into any form of dark magic, no matter the end results. The ends simply would never justify the means. "Not all of us are willing to sacrifice our integrity for personal gain, Lestrange."

The mission to kill Moody had gone awry. That night had filled Bellatrix with a wildly raging bloodlust. How he'd managed to escape, she would never understand. It was surely someone else's moronic fault, though the attack had been planned to the finest detail and she had not seen that anyone had stepped out of line. The knowledge did little to pacify her wrath that night. Neither did the recognition that Moody was tougher than old dragonhide boots. She failed to see how he had escaped the inferi, and barely managing to prevent from flying off the handle at Rabastan - since they were his domain - she'd turned her wand onto a lesser comrade instead and left him writhing in the dirt for allowing the escape.

So imagine her attention upon seeing Moody appearing outside the shop. Her head snapped to the side, heavy-lidded eyes ravaging with a potent cocktail of fury and abandoned delight. Yet she couldn't do anything here. Her fingers toyed with the potion bottle in her hand, long nails clacking against the glass as she gripped the neck and imagined his pasty flesh trapped beneath her palms instead.

"Madam Lestrange?" The owner was most insistent. Shoving the bottle against his chest, she completed her order while keeping a hawk's stare on the withering Moody all the while. My, my. The hip flash was a new addition. Alcohol was a weakness. No doubt his brain was unravelling and that ghastly leg was pitiable. Surely the Healers could do better than that.

Wrenching the door open, she made as much noise as possible and thrilled at Moody's desperate reaction.

"Hello, Alastor." A charming smile, her voice like velvet. The shop's cheery bell still jingled above her head, swinging a jarring timbre between her ears. She wanted to tear it down. But instead, she stepped out and shut the door firmly. "I was sorry to hear about your accident. Will you be returning to the Ministry soon?" Lowering her eyes, she slowly observed his peg leg and smoothed down the front of her dress, absently ridding it of common store dust. "You know, there is certain magic that might improve that leg. I don't think our employers would approve, but I don't see the harm if it's used for good."

[alastormagnusmoody]

Moody, too, had faith in Frank Longbottom, but recent events had impressed upon him the dangers of operating alone. "Send someone to join him," Moody muttered quietly. "In the off chance he's discovered, we don't want him being taken off guard. He could be killed... or worse." Moody dropped heavily into a seat next to his old friend, stretching out his wooden leg to relieve he pressure on his stump of a leg with a groan. He hadn't seen Frank since the attack, as Moody had locked himself away until he felt strong enough to be out and about again. The auror had had many close shaves in the past, as evident by the scars on his face, but this time had been... different. It was not often that Alastor had felt genuine fear, but being in the grip of the Inferius had definitely done that to him. "What all have I missed?"

Edgar could never process what exactly his best friend had been through. All that played in his mind was regret for not being there for his friend when the ambush took place. He carried around a sense of guilt, trying to focus on the moment and what help could come out of this to keep Alastor from spiraling into a dark pit.

There were already rumours that Alastor Moody was mad, but now, it seemed to be ten fold.

The dishevel appearance of his friend was a concern, not particular interested in conversing about their grudged look, he could table that for another day. Edgar wanted to focus on what was important and it was the trap that was being placed. This would work heavily in their favour.

"We were given valid information about a death eater safe house that was recently active. Frank is over there doing a run through to make sure it can be set up." Edgar had faith in Frank Longbottom.

[alastormagnusmoody]

Moody had ignored most of her words, but paused when asked if he had been attempting to communicate feelings for the psychotic creature masquerading as a sophisticated lady.

He turned back toward her, stating in a low growl, "It takes more than what I see to interest me. I guess you could say I have standards. Apparently, unlike your wizard." Moody turned without another word, making his way into the crowd of people in Diagon Alley, wanting to be left alone and to pu distance in between himself and whom he was certain was a Death Eater.

"Can a fool, fool a fool, Moody?" Alecto kept the same innocent visage written across her features. Her dealings with Dumbledore were of her own concern and the wizard in front of her would come to keep out of her business. "And pray tell, what act am I giving? I do hope it's a good one. I would hate to disappoint my fans." The corners of her mouth twitched into a smirk that soon faded.

"You speak of Amycus, how kind of you. My brother, he is well. I will send him my regards. He will be touched to know that you are concerned of him." Sarcasm dripping from every word she uttered.

Alecto remained rooted in her spot, allowing the wizard to move around her, satisfaction seeping into every orifice of her body, witness the disaster that was Alastor Moody clunk away with his new peg leg.

There was no desire to keep the conversation going, appeased with the outcome and knowing that she grated his nerves, that his last comment, she would not let rest until she had the last word.

A wicked smirk spread across her lips, twisting her body to face his, closing the distance between them. "Are you flirting with me, Alastor?" A hand comes up to rest where her heart was, if she had one, head slanting every so slight. "I do have to turn down your advances. I am a taken witch, and I do not think my wizard would take too kind knowing that I am being pursued in such a scandalous manner. You really should control your urges, it's very unbecoming." A small pause. "You are showing your true madness." There was no denying the rumours that were being spread about him.

[alastormagnusmoody]

Where: The Three Broomsticks Who: @mkmarlene

The late night crowd was dwindling. The Three Broomsticks, one of the few bars in the only all-wizard community in Britain, was one of those places that was usually busy right up until closing. Tonight, the crowd had tapered off, most likely due to the work week that was due to start in just a few hours. Moody walked through the door, a cool, late summer night's breeze rushing into the large room. Few heads turned, and those that did paid him no mind-- his hood of his robes was pulled up, hiding his face from view. He walked with a limp, something that was to become a signature of sorts for him. Alastor collected a bottle of firewhiskey and a glass, slipping into the back of the bar and passing quietly through a hidden door and into the secret room that was often used by the Order.

When he closed the door behind him and his eyes adjust to the darkness, he saw he was not the only one looking for a place to drink alone tonight. "Great minds think alike, eh?" He murmured, making his way to the table where the woman sat. "I can't drink this all by myself. If you're interested."

[alastormagnusmoody]

Flashback

Where: St. Mungo's Entrance Who: @lilyxjxevans TW: Blood

With a violent crack, the duo appeared outside of St. Mungos, Alastor with and arm around Lily's shoulders to stay upright. His leg, blood spilling from it onto the pavement, was missing from just above the knee, down. His face smeared with blood, an arm badly singed, he was in rough shape, and would soon lose consciousness if the bleeding wasn't stopped.

"Quickly," Moody growled, his voice hoarse, his teeth clenched in agony. He threw a glance over his shoulder at the empty street, worrying someone may appear behind them. He beat a hand against the closed doors, and in an instant, they opened, seemingly of their own accord. Two healers rushed toward them from the waiting room of the hospital, drawing their wands when they saw the rapid drip, drip, drip of the blood onto the ground from the man's ragged pant leg. "What happened?" The older Healer demanded, pushing up the arms of his robes, trying to get a handle on the situation.