#afwstarter

[almxdy-blog]

vices | alastor & fabian | 1st sept, 1977

Alastor was very fond of starting his weekends early, which was why he wasn’t all that pleased to go on a mission on a Thursday. Not to mention, he really wasn’t in a proper mindset. The morning had been rather chaotic, really. It had been the first year for Dorcas having to go to school without her father there and Alastor knew very well how that felt. Pretty shitty, if he was honest, though unlike him, she didn’t have the added guilt of having caused her parent’s deaths. Still, he’d been more focused on making sure he was being a good friend/some weird parental figure than focusing on his upcoming mission, which was supposed to be a pretty big deal.

He was still flipping through the files when he made it to the office, coffee cup in hand and, quite possibly, a pink smudged lipstick stain on his cheek. “I hear the wanker’s been providing the Death Eaters with all sorts of illegal potion ingredients,” he said, sitting down on the edge of Fabian’s table and setting his paper cup on it as he scowled at the rest of the files. “But I’ll give him some credit. At least he didn’t set his shop up in Knockturn Alley. Imagination amongst the criminal population is such a rarity these days.” He sighed wistfully, snapped the file and threw it carelessly in front of Fabian. “You read this already?” he asked, hoping very much that the answer would be a yes, because then at least one of them would know what they were getting into.

[almxdy-blog]

slow motion | alastor & hestia | 2nd sept, 1977

It was all sort of grotesque when he started thinking about it too hard, but he’d been around blood and gore for so long now, it didn’t seem to phase him all that much. Injuries were a part of his day job, even the dreadfully long office days, because paper cuts were a thing. An awful thing, actually. Much worse than his current injury, because at least with that he had an excuse to get out of doing paperwork and dump it on some of his trainees instead.

The injury itself was a bit delicate, he figured as he sat in the waiting room of St. Mungo’s, wondering if there was anyone available to speak to him. A cursed wound on his side with quite a bit of skin missing. His robes were soaked with blood, but as the blood was still fresh, it merely blended with the shade of his uniform. It was a good thing too, because there were already far too many people staring at him. Perhaps ordinary folk didn’t see aurors that often. It’s not like they went around banging at people’s doors, but it made him feel uneasy as within the crowd there could be someone with ill intentions. After what had happened the day before on the Hogwarts train, Alastor wouldn’t have been surprised.

Too busy staring at the crowd with suspicion, he failed to notice Hestia Jones advancing in on him until she was standing right next to him. He didn’t jump, but he did raise an eyebrow in mild surprise. “Here for me, kid?” he asked, heaving himself up from his seat. “I thought you were still in training?”