#head-auror-moody

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

“The worst influence,” she confirmed. “You know, everyone says different things? Couldn’t even get people to agree on whether drinking when I was pregnant was okay—” Muggle literature on it was all over the place, and the Mediwitches presented an intimidating front when she asked stupid questions that clearly any sensible well educated witch wouldn’t have to ask. “Latest I’ve read is that I should wait until this one is weaned off breastfeeding.” Lily gave a heavy sigh. Was it a bad sign that she missed the occasional pint, or just another marker of being so soul-wearyingly old at such a young age?           -- asphodelroot, Blonde, Red and a Little Mop of Hair

Admin Picks of the Week:

“An unbiased manner,” Narcissa mused aloud, repeating Severus’ statement.  She ran a finger along the edge of her teacup slowly, considering what he had said. She pursed her lips in thought before taking a breath. “I find it may be hard for certain people to embrace the idea of being ‘unbiased.’  There are certain things that either refuse to be grasped, or that people can’t be made to see - they have to see it for themselves.  Experience is a cruel mistress, but also the best teacher.”          -- forever-toujourspur, Only Human

Lucius clenched his jaw to keep from immediately saying anything. The only hint toward how he was feeling about the topic would come from the slight shake of his shoulders each time he inhaled, thoughts swirling around what he could possibly have done to get his father to stoop as low as he had.          -- slipperyfriend, Loyalty

Was he pushing Edgar too much, part of him questioned. He’d said that he’d prefer to have people live as normal lives as they could if they made it out of this, yet here he was encouraging the man to continue. Was he just throwing in more embers? What if he caused a fire? Let him decide. He couldn’t help but think about the Aurors who’d died on duty; they had decided but he still didn’t feel any less responsible.          -- head-auror-moody, What Gnaws

[charity-h-burbage]

On Purpose This Time || Charity & Alastor || May 12 1980

@head-auror-moody

Charity’s life was weird. Much weirder than it used to be. Years ago, when she’d looked towards her future, she’d seen something very specific -- a life much like her mother’s in fact. Married, at least one child, hopefully more. No job, some charity work, running the household. That’s what she’d wanted, that’s what ‘normal’ looked like.

And here she was. In her 30′s, unmarried, renting a flat in Muggle London, switching careers and about to be on a date with Alastor Moody.

No. Not a date. That’s silly, neither of them ever said it was a date, it certainly was not a date, and she absolutely did not spend ten extra minutes on her hair or chose her clothes with twenty-five percent more care than she usually did. That was something she would’ve done if it was a date, and it wasn’t, so she didn’t. She didn’t even want it to be a date, she was still half terrified of the man! The thought simply made no sense, so she cast it from her mind. Well, tried to.

No, this was simply a casual meeting of two people who seemed to get along and enjoyed speaking with each other. Potential colleagues, even, since they were to discuss her training the Aurors for undercover work in the Muggle world. Technically sort of former colleagues as well, really, since she had worked at the Ministry, and he’d been there for years at this point. But that was beside the point.

Weird thoughts, weird life, weird girl.

While her mind stumbled over her nerves about Mr. Moody’s arrival and the walk they’d agreed to take, she did attempt to work. It wasn’t going well, but no one could ever say she hadn’t tried! In fact, she’d made a bit of a mess of the small temporary office that had been set aside for her use. She was not looking forward to moving all of her things into her permanent office over the summer, but she was looking forward to having a real space. 

She rose from her chair to check a stack of books across the room -- she needed War and Peace, but she was only seeing The Art of War. Finally she found it, in the middle of the stack, and tried to carefully extract it. . . until a knock on the door surprised her, causing her to send the whole pile straight to the floor.

“Ah, shit,” she muttered, before calling louder, “Come in!”

[crabbeapple]

Troll Bait || Sep and Alastor || Trolls! In the Village! | June 1, 1980

Date: June 1st, 1980 Time: 2:45PM Location: Muggle town outside of London @head-auror-moody

Septimus Crabbe was rarely the smartest person in a room with two or more people in it. This didn’t usually bother him all too much, unless someone was unwise enough to try and point it out. Coming from a large family that contained several sisters that were annoyingly clever and happy to point it out, he’d long ago accepted the fact that unless he was in a room by himself, there was probably someone around who was smarter.

That said, as he watched the troll in his charge grunt and nearly hit itself in the head with its own club, he couldn’t help but feel like quite the prodigy in comparison.

Despite its overt stupidity, the troll was proving effective in its assigned task. That is, it was doing a damned good job of smashing up everything in sight in the Muggle town in which it had been set loose and terrorizing the Muggles that fled willy-nilly, screaming in confusion and fear. Elsewhere in the streets, Sep could hear the sounds of other trolls, accompanied by the shouting and jeers of the Death Eaters egging them on. The Dark Lord had ordered them to wreak havoc and terror and that was proving to be a simple task.

Sep grinned, the smile hidden behind his silver Death Eater mask. Adrenaline was pumping through him, not just because of the violence that surrounded him, but because of the creatures that were dealing out the majority of it. Trolls would hardly stand out as one of his favourite magical beasts, but it was still grand getting to see them up close and in action. It was making him think that he ought to try carving one at some point. It would be fun to see a miniature version, tromping about on his work desk and swinging a miniscule club.

Now was no time to be thinking about work, however. Muggles might not be a threat (at least not when he was actually able to not use his magic against them), but this assault with the trolls was hardly subtle and Sep knew it wouldn’t be long before the Aurors arrived. Not to mention bloody Dumbledore and his people. As he followed the troll from a safe distance as it smashed its way through the residential street on which they found themselves, he kept a wary eye out for the enemy.

“GRAAAAAUUUGHRRGHH!” roared the troll, smashing its massive spiky feet down on the bonnet of an automobile full of Muggles who were trying to flee. The metal crumpled like paper and whatever was inside it that made it work seemed to echo the troll’s anger as it coughed up smoke. Sep laughed.

“Yeah, get it!” he shouted at the troll, then sent a Stinging hex its way. It would barely feel the spell through its thick hide, but it was enough to keep it annoyed. It roared again and kicked the car. The vehicle skidded several feet into the road, the people inside of it screeching and yammering. All the noise only further enraged the troll.

[the-wolf-within-blog]

The Tongue of Wolves || Remus & Moody.

@head-auror-moody

Remus had had no intention whatsoever of getting involved in a criminal case. Others might have been more curious and eager for the gossip, but he preferred to stay out of trouble, even when trouble had nothing to do with him. But since his oh-so-friendly encounter with Severus Snape in Hogsmade, a thought had been rounding his head and simply would not leave him alone. No, of course he knew he had not been involved in the murderer, but Snape seemed to ahve been pretty convinced that he had. And that got him thinking. Not him, but maybe another werewolf? So he had done some digging on the subject. Not much, just enough to know whether if it was possible. And it turned out that the trauma presented by the body was perfectly compatible to the harm that could be inflicted by a werewolf. Reus would know.

He did not want to waist anyone’s time, but he felt like he ought to mention this to someone. It was quite obvious the authorities were not really considerin that possibility. Though he was no one to question their investigation, he simply believed nobody lost anything if he mentioned the thought to Alastor Moody. So he had headed to the Auror’s department, hoping to catch the Head Auror in a somewhat less busy situation and able to receive him. 

The chaos of the Auror division was nerve-wrecking for quiet, mousy-like Remus, who always sought out peace and silence. People rushing, shouting, in and out all the time. It was enough to drive any quiet, tranquility friendly soul. But Remus did his best to ignore the bubble of stress around him and simply knocked on the door of Alastor Moody’s office.

“Good morning, Alastor” he said as a manner of greeting, an awkward smile dancing on his patched-up face “I don’t mean to bother you, but do you have a minute? There’s something I wanted to comment on that murder in Hogmade a from a few days ago”.

[edgarbonesknows]

Learning to Lie || Edgar & Moody || March 10th, 1980

Date: March 10th, 1980 Time: 7:08pm Location: Random Safe House

Finishing dinner with his family, Edgar made a hasty retreat, moving to the door before any of the kids could come asking where he was going. He was running late already and he hadn’t wanted to delay any further with the endless questions of ‘where’ and ‘why’ that were sure to come his way if he was spotted. Rommie shot him a worried glance but remained where she was, distracting the children as he left.

Moody would likely be waiting for him at the safe house and hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset with him for being tardy. They were both adults but the Head Auror still intimidated him and he wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on the first day of their lessons together.

Merlin, why did I agree to do this?

The moment he had agreed to try and be a spy for the Order, he had been doubting himself and his abilities. Dumbledore had come to him, asking if he would be up for the challenge, and he had happily accepted. Since proving himself useless in battles and duels, he had been feeling useless and side-lined, told to wait in safe houses while his friends and family risked their lives. At first, he’d been grateful for the break. He knew he wasn’t in a stable state of mind and on the battlefield, he would only be a distraction to his allies. But spying, though requiring a certain skill with lying he hadn’t yet acquired, was a safer way to help the Order.

Collecting information was his job and people trusted him, for better or worse. In the past, he’d always equated this to his open honesty, so he wasn’t sure how well he would take to spying, but he wanted to try. No matter his fears or his troubles, he knew he needed to help end this war. Now more than ever.

Apparating to the safe house, he quickly assessed whether wards were firmly up before entering. It was an old, dusty house that had cobwebs in most corners. An abandoned building in the countryside outside of London, it had an old sofa which was covered in a sheet and a beaten old table pushed against the wall.

“Hello?” Edgar called out to the house, wondering if he had worried for nothing. Was the Head Auror late as well? Or was he simply in another room.

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

Heaving a sigh, he rubbed the palm of his hands in his eyes, doing his best to banish the tears that were starting to fade. He was sure they would be back easily enough, but he was glad that they had stopped for now. It was exhausting to bounce between emotions so quickly.                                                                  -- edgarbonesknows, What Gnaws

Admin Picks of Week:

He wasn’t as pretty as the newborns on the telly or the ones gracing album covers in photography studios, but he was theirs and he was perfect with his red face and wrinkled skin. He was the most beautiful human, because he was a mixture of his parents and even though he came to be as a surprise he was a gift and neither would change the way it all happened. All he could do was listen to Lily’s soft whispers as she talked to their child, how she introduced them as if he hadn’t done it countless of times when their boy was still growing safely in her belly (’ this is mama and papa, sweetheart, and we have waited for you’); and he couldn’t help but grin happily at the two most important people in his life.                                                                -- on-borrxwed-time, James Drabble

There was nothing nefarious in the box; quite the opposite. He looked down to see the carved owl and it chirped at him. Its large round yellow eyes looked cartoonish but friendly. The bird looked like it hadn’t missed any meals - being more rotund than he had expected, but seeing something on paper and in three-dimension were separate things. Although he knew the thing was a toy charmed to behave like an owl, it still seemed to have taken a life of its own.                                                              -- head-auror-moody, Owl and Mouse

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

Busy plotting how she might sneak into the off-limits areas of the Tower— and more particularly, whether it would be easier to browbeat Tilden or Beth into coming along with her— she was a bit surprised to be brought back to the present by Moody’s question about her family. She glanced at him, colouring a bit when she realized that she’d once again picked up her pace and plowed ahead while she’d been momentarily caught up in her thoughts. She slowed, waiting for him to catch up.                                                        -- perennialgrace, Along the River’s Edge

Admin Picks of the Week:

Alastor observed the man taking what appeared to be notes and moving his hand around as if drawing something. Crabbe was building off of his initial idea, which Alastor took to be a good sign that his cover story was believable. “I like that. And I think he’d like that too.” This imaginary kid he’d come up with was going to have a ball with this owl.                                                                  -- head-auror-moody, Little Figures

It had been a rough day. Very rough. But in this moment, in the stillness of the shop with the soft muttering of the books coming from between the shelves in the depth of the small building, Edgar found peace. It was calming, like a ward had been put up over this shop to keep the rest of the world away. For a moment, time seemed to stop and it was just them.                                                    -- edgarbonesknows, How Far We’ve Come

There was little to no reason to believe that any Death Eater would ever willingly submit themselves into the hands of an Order member, at least not as long as the war was still on, but even his old cocky self would have to agree that the circumstances were less than ideal. The Prophet worker was an unresponsive mess, someone who couldn’t be trusted to stand up on his own without falling over let alone aid James in a fight. He was a liability, but that was not a good enough reason to risk his safety.                                                          -- on-borrxwed-time, Match Made in Hell

[vermiculus-incipiens]

VI Quote of the Week:

That day hadn’t been a fun one, he remembered. He didn’t like to go around intimidating people in the Order, but things had to be done. Tilden answered correctly, and Alastor waited for his question in return, however, it didn’t come. Instead, the herbologist went on about the plant and who had given him the pot. Aw, hell. Tilden explained why he was there, but that wasn’t what made Alastor open his door. There was no way in hell that a Death Eater was going to go on about a houseplant in that much detail.                                                              -- head-auror-moody, Speak the Truth

Admin Picks of the Week:

And thus here she was at Flourish and Blotts, once again browsing through the numerous shelves that were stacked to the ceiling. She was in no rush today and had enough money to purchase any book she wanted, so she was going to choose carefully. She walked down aisles and read the summaries of books before either putting it in a basket she held or sliding it back onto the shelf. It was a calm, domestic image which wasn’t often seen from her.                                                                      -- bellablacklestrange, Literature

Maybe a small victory was better than no victory, Lily thought; at least Marlene acknowledged that she had tried to resist. The terrible thing about the Imperius curse was the way it completely removed a person’s will - or that’s what Lily thought - and to even try to fight it off was an incredible feat. Lily wished Marlene could understand just how much Lily admired her strength for doing that. But she didn’t see the point in continuing the argument when Marlene clearly couldn’t be persuaded. It was like hitting your head on a brick wall, and Lily had enough other things to focus her energy on.                                                                       -- thelionheartedxlily, Check Up

Blinking at the utterly bizarre change of pace this fight was taking, Edgar opened his mouth and allowed it to hang there as Daisy looked to him for guidance on how to proceed. How … how did they proceed? The streets were so dangerous these days, he’d never come across this. Either there wasn’t a sober soul on the streets this late, or there were Death Eaters. He’d never come across a group of teenagers - or so he assumed - lurking in this alley. It was dangerous!                                                                     -- edgarbonesknows, A Night Out