Alastor Moody

Auror. Ravenclaw. 

[amoodyauror]

beealight‌:

Date: 15 February 1982 

Location: Alastor’s tent

With: @amoodyauror

Her eyes scanned the Prophet again as though this time the words that were already seared into her memory might shift into something less sickening. Each time only made the feeling in the pit of her stomach grow worse as though there was an iron ball lodged within her that grew hotter and heavier with grief and rage until finally, she could take no more. She snatched the paper up from its place on her table crumbling it in her clenched fist and headed towards her door. Something had to be done. Surely the Order would not… could not let this stand. She stepped out into the dusk the frozen stillness of the village only grating further against her raw nerves. Where was everyone? What were they still doing here? Were they really resigned to just cling to survival while the world outside burned? 

Charity wasn’t really sure where she was headed until she found herself standing outside of his tent. Moody was their leader. Even wartorn. Even shackled by the division threatened by his so-called partner… surely he had some answers… some sort of plan at least. All she could think of was the thousands of lives that hung in the balance outside of their wards. Although the past year had been colored with dark shades of grief and desperation she had not felt a fury like this rush through her veins since the day Frank had told her of the Minister’s final decision on Althea’s case. It was an agonizingly personal feeling to imagine all the families out there facing this barely veiled threat from the same man and knowing that they were not doing nearly enough to strike at the sickness in their world that gave him the boldness and power to make it. She stopped at the edge of his wards taking a deep breath that did nothing to settle the shaking in her hands and jump of her pulse. There was a light in the tent but that meant next to nothing when its owner was so fond of decoys and protective measures.

“Moody… Alastor, are you in there?”

There were more than a few things to consider these days when looking at plans in front of you and even though Alastor hadn’t quite finished moving into one of the cleared out homes in weeks past, he certainly hadn’t anticipated that he would ever really truly have privacy in a place like this either, it wasn’t something that he was going to be able to achieve in this war and it wasn’t something that was remotely a priority either. Still, sometimes it was nice to be able to process your thoughts somewhere other than in the shower or the bath.

Between the message from Glenda and the fact that Kingsley still was standing on not doing other than twiddling their thumbs and hiding themselves? Well, he didn’t even want to think about adding on the letter that Meadowes had found or the recent registry that had been enacted by the Ministry. His opinion certainly wasn’t about to be heard by the high political members and they were probably not going to play by the rules that he would want in a fight. No, there were priorities and this... well, this is something that he might agree with Kingsley on that it wasn’t a battle that they could fight. 

Or at least, it wasn’t a battle that Alastor should fight.

Charging in with wands and fists raised would likely do nothing for anyone, least of all the Ministry, sometimes they just bloody needed far too many political talks for the liking of Alastor. After all, there was no way to make every single person happy, no matter whether you wanted to or not. Charity’s voice floated into his tent, Alastor clearing his throat for a second before pushing himself up off of the cot that had been set up and pulling the fabric back. “...Charity, is everything okay?”

[amoodyauror]

amosisnotahero‌:

Something about Alastor Moody seems to straighten the spines of everyone around him. He emits an aura–even the plans stand a little straighter, look a little brighter, aiming to please or at least not displease the man. It’s the kind of aura that makes everyone pay more attention to their consonants and watch the words they use. Not for no reason did this man make Auror in near-record time. Or so Amos hears. There is no shortage of rumors floating around the Ministry about Alastor Moody.

Amos isn’t immune to the effect, though. His spine grows rigid like he’s under inspection at the orphanage and a sweeping glance around shows that the plants are following his lead. Moody’s voice is something rough and earthy and low and Amos endeavors to be as casual as he is. “Mum’s gardening rubbed off on me,” he answers, willing his spine to relax so he can lean down. Being a head above the Auror is a touch unsettling. “’m not particularly good at it, I think, but these are strong plants. It’s a good hobby. Lovegoods have some interesting stuff growing here.”

Amos seemed softer spoken and Alastor hadn’t quite been able to pry the man apart to figure out what it was about him that seemed to draw people in, that seemed to earn the trust seemingly effortlessly of the Longbottoms of all people either. It was certainly one stamp of approval that more than one person would likely try to grasp for and that had been unable to manage. Particularly to keep it these past months. No, Alastor certainly hadn’t really spent near enough time figuring out how other Order members ticked, it seemed something that Amelia was better at and more focused on each day, after all - there was a good reason why the leadership team worked the way that they did.

“Pandora seems to have the uncanny ability to find one thing or another that others would kill for, I’m not particularly sure that either her or Xeno realizes it though, some of these plants would go for quite the sum at Knockturn Alley.” Alastor crouched down, fingering one of the plants for a few seconds before focusing back on the man in front of him and nodding his head. “How are you doing in the camps though? I’ve heard rumblings that it is rough on some.”

[amoodyauror]

amosisnotahero‌:

Where: the Lovegood’s garden When: mid-February, post-census announcement Who: open to all

It’s easy to lose himself in gardening. He has a greenhouse back home, and some plants scattered about indoors in the less-humid air, and at home he spends much of his time there when he’s not working. It’s soothing, an activity he used to share with his mother, pressing fingers down into loam and mulch while she murmured instructions over her shoulder. It’s hot and sweaty work and he compensates for the loneliness of losing her by talking to her–his–plants. He discusses the state of their leaves with them and tells them stories about his life, talks to them like they still hold memories of his mother puttering about and he only has to chatter along until he unlocks them.

It’s no surprise that he gravitates towards gardening, here. The Lovegoods have an interesting setup–he hasn’t even heard of half the things they claim to be growing, but he’s curious nonetheless, and they’ve allowed him some space to cultivate some of his own. Dittany, he thinks, might be a good addition.

He’s got dirt on his knees and a trowel in his hands, and he’s not wearing gloves, carefully tugging at tiny sprouts of weeds and talking to himself, because it’s a habit by now when there are plants between his fingers.

“I’m really sorry about this,” he apologizes to a yielding weed. “Thanks for being so accommodating, though. These other plants, they’re too polite to say, but they really can’t share the dirt with you.”

Hands on meant different things for different people and Alastor had learned that fast when he was growing up for many different reasons. He had learned another round of lessons in it when he’d had his life gone down an alternate route and then again when he’d entered into Auror training. Everyone had different interpretation of hands on, but he’d only ever encountered a few people that had jumped on board with plants. The Lovegoods, particularly Pandora, were enthralled with the idea of keeping everything they could in the backyard and it had come in handy more than once.

It certainly had meant less runs out for supples and less chance of raising someone’s eyebrow for those purchases, not that many people questioned items that he’d picked up when he ventured down Knockturn Alley on occasion. But on the time that he did send out Dorcas or Pandora undoubtedly snuck out? Well... it at least lessened the amount of times they’d go and risk detection. Amos wasn’t one that he figured that he’d find on his knees with his hands in the dirt, the dirt smudged in various places.

Not to mention the fact that he was pretty sure that he was talking to himself and Alastor couldn’t quite bite back the chuckle in his throat. “Diggory, I didn’t figure that I’d find you in the gardens of all places,” he said with a smile, crouching down into the grass. “Eventually we’ll have to get them a greenhouse if we’re sticking around here.”

[snowluthor]

[hollowedrpg]

CONGRATULATIONS, EMILY! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Alastor Moody. I’m so stoked to have an Alastor again! And right as the action is about to heat up! You know I love your interpretation of Dorcas, and now I can’t wait to see what you do with Alastor as well.

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