persecutor

❝I wonder which will kill you faster — your loyalty or your stubbornness.❞

[alastorestar]

James: Knock knock.

Alastor: Knock with your hands. Saying it is ridiculous.

[alastorestar]

Moody: Look at this place. Half-eaten food, crumpled tissues, pictures of your family.

James: What’s wrong with pictures?

Moody: If you love someone, you’ll remember what they look like.

[strawberry-split]

#me as a parent 

+ Bonus: 

[alastorestar]

@ofamos

"Little man, I feel like we need to change our passcode again," Alastor whispered to the big-eyed little boy, who quickly asked him for a reason. Good. Never be passive towards the world, a lesson he'd often tried to instill in the kid. If he was going to be uncle Ally, he had to make himself worthy of that title. "Security breaches. Far too many people know it by now so we need to keep changing it. That way the secret is kept a secret and we are always a step ahead." That sort of conversation had become quite normal between the two or, as they called it, Scar Club. Their meetings usually involved story reading, snacks prepared by Amos, an exponentially longer playtime and lots of questions and sharing about scars. Outside people needed a passcode to be around them during their meetings.

At the sound of Amos's footsteps, Alastor cocked his head, as if the man had just made his point valid, and lowered his sleeve again to cover the pink scar on his forearm, one of the recent ones, and certainly one of the smallest, which Cedric had been commenting on. "Say the word, Amos."

[thelovejournals]

…and we drink our coffee and pretend not to look at each other.

Charles Bukowski, Luck (via thelovejournals)

[alastorestar]

@fireevans

His fingers tapped against the wood of the doorframe, waiting for someone to open the door. Most likely Lily, he'd hoped. The auror leaned against the other side of the doorframe, a usual position for him, as if the struggle to center himself in the world was always present, and only the dim light of the lamppost shone some brightness on his figure. A looming silhouette in the dark. At least he was consistent.

It wasn't that late. He convinced himself of it over and over again, checking his watch and the not so distant noises, despite the darkness out already. Then again, Alastor Moody had a questionable concept of time, with his twenty-eight hours long days and four hours of sleep in the form of occasional naps. Was it too late for a casual visit? Was it even one? In the blink of an eye, his plans changed. Everything he'd meant to ask and say had been put on the backburner, only relevant depending on her reaction to his new questions, which were organized in cohesive sentences by the time the door opened. Without any greetings or common courtesies, Alastor straightened from his place against the doorframe and began speaking, tone certain when his mind was not. "I need to know that you'll tell me to stop when I've crossed a line. Because I don't know how to tell. So if me showing up here, now, is that - you need to tell me." Moody had the habit of either relying too much on one person, or not at all.

[alastorestar]

@antlcrs

There hadn't been time to talk to James right after the attack. Between auror work, the order, and the very occasional but much-needed breaks for sleep, hours bled into days - he had been kept informed about his status by healers, constantly checking, and had even attempted to visit him a couple of times but found him asleep during both. A third attempt had been made the previous morning, but his room was crowded with friends and Moody felt like he'd be out of place so, after a glance from the corridor, the auror went back to work.

Things seemed to have quiet down a little as James was sent home and, almost just as quick, Moody appeared on his doorstep. He mentally worked out the right words to say on his way up to the bedroom, but the balance between cold and too personal was a hard thing to tackle. "I'm so sorry for your loss." He kept his voice low as he walked into the room, his gaze fickle, jumping from wall to wall, corner to corner, rarely focusing too much on the other man. "Anything I can do?"

[alastorestar]

@evrosiers

His suspicions, as was often the case, were ignored by senior aurors. Alastor Moody had been rising through the ranks at an impressive pace that left many more experienced colleagues bitter, blaming his success on nepotism and judging his disregard for the law. Again and again, he couldn't count on much support from the ministry on his investigations, so he was there, in the Daily Prophet office, with absolutely no legal backup, aware that at any moment he could be forced out.

Word of his Hogwarts old feud with Evan Rosier had spread, and quickly his claims of knowing the man to be a Death Eater were dismissed. Credentials and records were checked, Evan seemed clear. No witnesses had come forth identifying him. Like many times before and certainly in the future, Alastor stood alone with nothing but his word, each day more tarnished with lingering paranoia (that many had started to pick up on). But he knew what he'd seen. As soon as the dust settled some more, he planned on starting to visit party attendees with a picture of the suspect, hoping that someone, anyone, would back him up. He had to have been spotted by someone else while not wearing a mask. "Yes, Evan Rosier. No, I don't have anything scheduled. Richard Turner, from the Being division. I have some important information on the new movements of the giants." He repeated the same lies, getting closer and closer to the one he wished to see. 'I'll let him know you're here', he was told at last. He'd been persistent.

[tortillah]

[alastorestar]

Moody: Well, you know, it's like I always say: "It ain't government work if you don't have to do it twice."

[octarine-flash]

Marvey + quotes 6b

[alastorestar]

comeonjones:

when it had been confirmed that alastor was okay - as okay as anyone was after the wedding - hestia had tried to hold off on going in search of him. ben was still in the hospital bed and  in a bad way. there were plenty of other people in the hospital that she knew and who were hurt. hestia had tried her best to  help the healers. she’d been cleaning up, making tea, doing  everything possible to relieve some of the pressure from those  who had been up for over twenty four hours now - just like her.

ben had fallen asleep and the hospital had generally settled now, but hestia was full of restless energy. her body couldn’t let her sleep until she’d heard from alastor. knowing that going looking for him was pointless, hestia had stayed put and let him find her. what was taking him so long? where was he? as she crossed a hallway, she could hear the distinct thud of his boots on the floor of the hospital and tried to follow the noise. 

time froze as she spotted him down the corridor. then it sped up. hestia ran across the squeaky linoleum floor and threw herself at him. “thank god.”

i’m alright. she had seen the blood all over him, seen the new scar on his face, seen the look in his eyes. “we have very different opinions on ‘alright’, al,” she murmured, squeezing him tightly and pressing her face in to his chest regardless of the blood that might have been caked there. her exhale was shaky, slow, as she tried to reign in the  relief that flooded her. nothing had been quite right until she’d seen  him. the world had been a few degrees off kilter. it had been impossible to feel calm while her best friend was still missing. “i was so fucking worried about you,” she murmured in to his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “worried you’d got so wrapped in being a hero that you forgot to save your damn self.”

The pressure of her arms on his sore body would have made him wince if he wasn't so tensed up. Hestia knew that look, that demeanor, that unbearable state of living - that was his reaction to horror. Usually, it would happen after a tragic mission of which Moody would have told her nothing about, preferring to isolate himself instead; just another unhealthy habit of his. This he could not  hi d e . There was no reason for it, the woman had lived through it. His chest tightened at the thought of Hestia in the midst of all that chaos and death, and so did his hold on her. We have very different opinions on 'alright'. Nothing new then. Alastor put an impressive amount of value in an empty concept of life, ignoring what one should actually be like. He was 'alright' because he was breathing, even if everything else in him was slowly falling apart and all he wanted to do was stay there in that intimacy that was so particular to them.

He knew he had to let her go and properly examine her, search for bruises and scars on her face, and limps, and signs of teary eyes. Then, he'd have to go back to work and keep doing that until he dropped. Just imagining a moment without her arms around him felt heartbreaking; he needed that comfort. He knew he did. And he needed to make her feel safe, and to let her know he was there, all of him. For a moment, the world around them had been shut off, and nothing else was as pressing as her presence. The embrace was lasting for an unusual amount of time, even for them, and he was silent through her words of concern and relief. His hand moved between pressing tightly against her back and running through her hair, but the rest of his body was still. Control your breathing. He'd learned that eventually, through auror training and experience. His hands didn't shake, his muscles were tensed up. The prime example of an auror. Alastor Moody was made of stone and nothing could shake him hard enough to break.

"How's Ben?" Shit. His voice quavered. At least that had happened around Hestia and, in his mind, he was quick to blame her softening presence for it. He'd asked healers and nurses, and he knew all the technicalities of his friend’s status, but she had surely seen him already. Last he'd heard, they said he had come in barely holding on, and wasn’t improving all that much. Mason McKinnon, same thing. Fleamont Potter and Neville Longbottom were dead. Countless people were injured. Alice was in a hospital bed. No amount of training could have prepared him for such a vile blow, but he should have been. And there he went again, his mind approaching the dark space of guilt. He couldn't let himself anywhere near that - he wouldn't know how to function. His arm was still holding her close to him and he tried to keep himself grounded through that. Her voice, her presence, her heartbeat. His emotions could be poorly dealt with later. 

[alastorestar]

@oflcngbcttcms

Alastor nodded at the healer once again, his exhausted mind trying to fit in the new information in the mess of facts and names. Bead six had been moved to the next floor due to overcrowding. Room twelve was getting an early discharge. Benjy Fenwick's state had improved. Anthony Wicker's was steadily worsening. Maurice Johnson's family was on their way. No, was Wicker's family on the way, and Benjy getting worse? He needed some sleep, and food and at least a break, but there was no time for any of his own needs.

The glimpse of a familiar man at the end of the corridor helped him organize his thoughts. Moody made a mental list of the names he hadn't caught up on yet as he started tracing the same path as Frank, only slightly faster. "Hey, hey." His voice was more of a whisper than a call, a way of trying to keep them both grounded in what was already a hectic and loud environment. He knew what had happened. Of course he knew. A list of confirmed casualties had been the first demand to come out of his mouth. "How you holding up?"

[alastorestar]

Erik: i have a plan

Charles: it can't involve murder

Erik: i got no plan

[princesconsuela]

[alastorestar]

@shxcklebclts

"What can I say, I got jealous." Moody shot him a serious look, but balanced it with the tiniest of smirks. The wound on his face was far from healed, and his unskilled attempts at closing it during the attack had only further damaged the skin, so he was left with a very visible reminder of the war, second only to the obvious cause of his limp. He looked bruised and battered. He looked like Kingsley. "I'm so tired." The man was one of the very few people to whom Alastor would ever admit such a thing. He'd been working non-stop since the wedding, rushing between hospital rooms, HQ, the venue and the office. Only three days had passed, but it felt like years. Long long years.

[spencerhastinghs-deactivated201]