@iustusetpeccator gets a random thing because I need Alastor to love on my babe.
She’s been at his desk for AGES now, the ticking of the clock ear-piercingly LOUD as reality seemed to blend with nightmares. She was quiet, yes, hands gripping the cup of coffee someone had given her, despite the fact that it had gone cold.
Petunia had left about an hour ago, after bitterly giving her statement to a dozen ministry officials and getting special permission to NOT have her memories erased. During that time, she repeatedly told anyone who would listen that Lily was NOT welcome to live with her.
And so, a tiny witch from the department of underage wizardry was here, trying to find her a place to LIVE during the summer, at least. She’d gotten permission from Dumbledore to return to school early, before winter holidays were over; she was scheduled to leave in the afternoon.
“How’d you get those scars?” she asked the gruff auror who was apparently in charge of her case (perhaps he was in charge of everything, she didn’t know). Alastor Moody -- she’d heard the name, read it in the papers. He was a famous dark wizard catcher he was; one of the BEST.
She pulled up the blanket they’d given her around her shoulders a bit more -- she was meant to be asleep in an empty office, a cot set up for her inside. Truthfully, she hadn’t left Moody’s side since she’d seen him at her home, since she watched her parents being floated out with sheets covering them, since the blazing green skull hung over her house, an omen of DEATH.
“Do you have to go to every muggleborn’s house who’s been attacked?” Questions tumbled from trembling lips -- she wanted to CRY, but she had to be STRONG. Questions were a distraction, since no one in this office’d give her any sherry.
“Why is the coffee here rubbish? Have you killed a man before? No -- you definitely have. Do you like Quidditch? What’s the penalty for killing a man? Are you going to kill whoever did this? Can you?”