What it takes to become an Auror!
Title:What it takes to become an Auror
Rate: Probably between PG13 and R?
Warnings:Character Death... and some wet dream mentions.And Violence bad spelling and grammar
Summary: Battle with Evan Rosier, The reason why alastor became an Auror, his basic life story about being an Auror and his greatest fear
What it takes to become an Auror.
Alastor Moody had a secret fear, a fear he would not have dared to admit to anyone. Every time that he thought of it, a cold weight would settle around his heart, dropping it to his stomach and casing it to settle there taking hours to defrost maybe even days! His moods taking a decidedly dark turn during those times, he would find some hole to crawl into and drink himself to sleep. Waking up with a hangover so large that his fears would be forgotten. Alastor dropping off the face of the planet for the amount of time it would take to rid himself of his fears.
He was 23 when the small niggling fear started to eat at him. That this would be a problem. He'd spent the past 6 years fighting for good. His passion for capturing dark and Dangerous Wizards and Witch born at the age of 15.He was an average student with an aptitude towards Herbology,Transfiguration and Potions, though he was always rather good at Defense against the dark arts he wasn't that inclined to do his best, focusing on Quiddich, rather than applying himself he still managed to receive A's and E's in all or most of his subjects.
He'd taken on more subjects than he had wanted in his 3rd year upon his fathers insistence. Muggle Studies and Defense Against the dark Arts were upon the insistence of his Father and Grandfather. Though thankfully the Moody household all were in agreement about Divination and avoided the subject in favor of others. Added to that his Quiddich, his school days in his 5th year had been sadly busy, especially with OWL's in his near future, the thought of what he was going to do with the rest of his life hovered over his head.
His summer holidays usually a combination of happy days spent out on his own and pleasant evenings with his grandfather his father appearing perhaps every fortnight to join them in a meal. After all that the Moody family had gone through because of his fathers duty as an Auror it was soon decided by Alastor and his Grandfather that he would not become an Auror. He was tired of being harassed because of whom his father was. He wanted to be a man apart known for himself not for whom his father was. His thoughts leaned towards a Healer of a Magical Creatures Specialist. Anything that would save him from the suffering of being an Auror like his father.
The one time of year that alastor had looked forward to was Christmas. When he,Keernin his grandfather and Angus his father had gotten together. The year of his 5th year at Hogwarts however had been otherwise. Grindlewald for some reason had been far more active in the last months and Angus Moody much to his dismay had been unable to attend Christmas or indeed the days before or After. Alastor had been devastated by this. No matter what Keernin did he was unable to cheer the lad up. Christmas had been eaten in silence. Though by the end of the meal it had become more pleasant. Alastor and Keernin sat enjoying one anthers company. Since his return from hogwarts in his first year they had grown incredibly close. His magic-phobic grandfather actually open to learning about it, Alastor learning important muggle things from him (though by now he knew a lot more that he would let on)
The day that changed Alastor Branagan Moody's life was not Christmas day, or indeed boxing day , but the night of New years eve 1933. Angus was at work as he usually was, Alastor and Keernin had gone into Dublin to a local pub that was having a party of note. Alastor sat in the corner nicking sips of Keernin's beer, surprised that he wasn't getting into trouble, until Keernin finally got tired of having his drink disappearing at twice its normal rate and gotten the boy a few beers of his own.
It was the best time of Alastor's life. Eventually they had decided to make there way back home. Alastor not nearly as drunk as Keernin held him up chuckling at the old antics his grandfather was telling him about, talking about his father and chuckling wishing that he was there at the time. But eventually they had gotten to the outskirts of town,old man leaning against Alastor who was going through yet another giggle fit as he listened to him talking about his father when he was young.
Neither Moody was aware of the unseen presence that had followed them from the pub, skirting around the shadows, watching them as they slowly walked together enjoying the early Irish mist that settled over the dock's. The unseen person watching them was neither friendly or benign. Alastor to this day could not tell you from where he came or even who he was. A green light the colour of something beautiful and dark shone through the mist like a flash of emerald. The dock side wall's all shone green, It was the most Irish way a man could die. Alastor would muse later when he stood at the small statue of a man with a young boy on his shoulders both looking happy, a memorial for the man who had raised him. His ashes scattered around the glen.
Alastor had woken to find himself in a muggle hospital, tubed and needles sticking into him. A mask over his face. He didn't know what had happened or indeed where he was. He remembered someone hissing the word crucio a light far more unpleasant than the Irish death filling the space where his grandfather had just dropped to the ground,he unable to hold up the dead-weight. The light circled him. The first thing he was aware of was a mind numbing pain that shook his bones,tore at his muscles, burned his flesh, it made him feel as if his bones were being shattered from inside 1000 times over. His muscles pulled to the point of tearing and then some, his blood boiling beneath his flesh. He remembered dropping backwards with the force of the spell he recognized in the back of his mind where he had taken refuge. Clinically categorizing the different agonizing sensations as they happened. and then finally he blacked out certain that he would be insane when he awoke.
He'd woken alone. A nurse walking past noticed and started fussing. By the end of the day the police had spoken to him wanting to know what happened,having been the ones to find out about he and his grandfather. It was the careless talk as he lay in his bed right after waking that let him know that his grandfather was dead. A nurse telling a policeman that a man had been found dead next to him. Fowl play was obvious but neither had suffered any physical effects. Aside from a burn across the boys backside,no one could explain. Alastor of course put it down to having his wand in his back pocket again.
It was well into the early hours of the morning that Angus had finally come to collect Alastor. Looking exhausted and exceptionally sad he didn't know what else he could possibly tell the boy. Taking him home to his apartments in London after escaping. Alastor was quiet not speeking . He'd been quiet for nearly 2 days, his father starting to worry had about his son more and more atop his grief for his father in a plight of desperation had finally cracked. Grief atop of guilt finally broke him “I thought I told ya ter always be vigilant Alastor Moody” he had said as he stood before the kettle boiling water for some tea. Alastor hadn't eaten anything in his time merely looked up and shrugged before looking down to study the table before him again “An didn't I tell ya never ter damn well put yer wand in yer back pocket! Now we're gonna have ter get ya a new wand! An I ain't made o money!” he'd growled turning on his son watching him flinch and curl against the table.
“sorry da” he'd whispered wishing he would wake up from this nightmare wanting to so desperately be alone with his pain right now, but it had seemed that his father wouldn't let him out of his sight “Sorry don't cut it! How de fok are ya supposed ter survive if ya cant even defend yerself...not even looking fir fok sake! What the hell were ya thinkin boy! I know I taught ya better!” he'd growled unable to stop himself, Alastor finally getting to the point of either curling up and crying or fighting back. “Where were ya when we were out huh! Ya were supposed to come home for the holiday too! You should have been there! “ Alastor had screamed back all his pain flowing from him that you could feel it in the air sparking.
Angus had wanted to hit him just then but all fight had gone out like a light he'd collapsed in a chair beside Alastor and began to cry. Alastor had never ever seen his father cry before. Being to young to remember if he had when his mother had died and never having been particularly close to him. The sight scared the ghost out of him . He'd sobbed there too,his father actually pulled him close and held him as they both sobbed. 15 years of avoiding one another had come down to that moment. The Death of Keernin Moody had brought them closer.
Alastor's life had changed after that. He'd become immersed in his studies, now determined to become an Auror so that he could put away the dark wizards like his father did. His father of course had not been happy to hear about this. When he had gone home for summer that year he'd gone back to Ireland. The home his grandfather had always kept warm and cozy now lay dark and dusty. Everything in its place. His father wanted him in London but he wasn't interested. He'd spent his time practicing everything from potions to ward's and herbology Even taking up Divination to see what all the fuss was about.
By the time that he'd made it out of hogwarts he was one of the top students atop being a prefect and Quiddich Beater. Angus had tried to stop him from getting into the Auror training program, and after he failed at that tried to make it hard for him to do anything. Soon Alastor was taken under the wing of another Auror by the name of Fergus Flynn who had taken the unruly stubborn younger man and by the time he was 23 he was a great Auror, with a temper that was getting him into trouble.
And that was where Alastor's fears came into play. It had been late at night when they had been called out to a nearby corner of the dock's of London. He'd been separated from Fergus as they chased after a known dark wizard. Times were worse now . World War 2 was in full swing. It would be another 4 years before there would be freedom to speak of. And any strange death brought on mass panic, Alastor had found the dark wizard besides a young boy and his father. Both dead. Something had sparked in him then.
An anger that he was unable to surpress. He had wanted the man dead and he had wanted him to suffer as much as he knew he had suffered. He had forgotten his wand pounding at the man, large fists grinding his head into the walls and street. When Fergus found him he had finally pulled out his wand and was poised to strike the man down with the same green death that had taken his Grandfather.
A blackness had settled over his heart that he thought he would never get rid of then. He'd discovered that in that moment,where he had the power of life and death beneath his fists, he felt like a god. Felt as if he were doing what was right. And it scared him, for all the lies he could have told himself that the man who was now in St. Mungo's deserved that beating and what he would receive in Azkaban, he couldn't make himself believe it. Every blow had felt good. Every single drop of blood had felt fair. In that moment in time he felt like he was finally getting what he had deserved. And now it scared him. He would quit.... He thought only to go back to work 2 weeks later after Fergus had gotten his nails into him.
The next 20 years after had had Alastor spending his time studying the dark arts into greater and darker levels trying to understand them and be able to predict them. After Angus's death in the height of a duel when he was 25. He was determined to know his enemy before they got him. There were several more incidences after the beating that had taken place. But the one that had scared him and made him sick to his stomach was a duel .
Evan Rosier and he had fought. It was a duel to end all duels! Voldemort would have been proud! It was an epic moment in time, one that a movie might be proud of if Wizards had movies. A burning wear-house in the middle of nowhere. The smell of sulphuric crackling metal, Alastor standing behind a pillar, a large chunk of his nose blown off. Evan taunting him to come out, to face him like a wizard.
He'd never been so angry in his life! Two of his mates where dead, most of the death eaters had gone off and he was stuck with the only one stupid enough to actually taunt him. He'd come out after the pillar had been blown apart and the roof started to cave in. He'd started talking about his father and how it was known that he had squealed at his death like Alastor would now.
Before Alastor could stop himself he raised his wand, the green spell on his lips the first syllable uttered from out his mouth the green glow at the tip of his wand, his heart racing with excitement wanting to hurt and kill the man. But he had a moment that stopped him realizing what he was doing long enough for Evan Rosier to shoot a blasting spell at him. Flying back hitting the pillar behind him that was still intact. Evan Rosiers wand started to glow green and Alastor knew what he must do. Before he could stop himself he raised his wand shooting off a blasting charm at the support beam of the wear house and watched in amazement as the roof came tumbling down on Evan Rosier. That was when he decided that he'd better retire...Thats when his fear came to life.
His greatest fear was that he would become what he had caught his entire life to defeat! Dark and sinister! Evil and black hearted! Wanting to hurt and not help,to cause pain and not heal. It would take a few more years for him to retire. The year that Cornelius Fudge had become minister for magic he had packed his bags. Fergus had gone from Auror to head Auror to Minister... he had been a great Minister but had to retire himself one day he supposed. When Cornelius Fudge had decreed that Auror's had the right to use the unforgivable curses he had quit. Which was what Cornelius had wanted after all.
Several long decades passed. Voldemort had returned, Alastor had suffered under the hands of dark wizards once more. He'd escaped the final year of war and had finally come back to being an Auror trainer in the ministry under the new administration of Minister Rufus Scrimgeour. (also his husband) He was happy. But that tiny fear kept resting in the back of his head that he would become a dark wizard.
One night he lay in bed dreaming. It was a dark deep and disturbing dream. One where Alastor had indeed become dark and he had taken his husband and hurt him deeply, deliberately setting out to cause pain. What was worse was that he had hurt another Gilderoy Lockhart .leaving Rufus helpless unable to help either of them as he took them both. He'd awoken in a state of deep disgust with himself. But that was not the reason why he had run to the bathroom. He'd been aroused. What he had seen had aroused him and he felt disgust in himself to a degree that he felt dirty, what he had dreamed of had not only caused him to be aroused but sent him to completion as well. He knew then and there that he was going over board he was either going crazy or the darkness had finally taken him.
Slowly he padded his way over to Rufus's study wanting to tell him what had happened,wanting to admit what he had done in his dream, wishing for death or azkaban before he let himself become the thing he had dreaded his entire adult life. But it was hard ...incredibly so. He stood before Rufus's door scared hoping he'd understand knowing that no matter what he would still love him but to what degree would it go. Would Rufus still trust him. He was too afraid to knock. Pressing his forehead against the door feeling the cool wood pressing against his forehead felt good but eventually he was worried that Rufus might actually come out and run into him and he wouldn't know what to say. “Lad think I'm becoming a dark wizard” just didn't sound right to him. Slowly he pulled away from the door feeling like he needed a drink somewhere where he could just loose himself.
Walking down the corridor he didn't except to hear Rufus's door opening and a tight sleepy voice that was tell tail that Rufus had been sleeping at his desk again that and the fact that his hair was standing at odd angles on the one side of his head “Lad where are you going at this time of night?” he'd asked staring at Alastor with so much concern he'd nearly broken down too tired to fight with Rufus he'd turned on his heal walked back to him and hugged him closely...He'd forgotten one important thing. Rufus would never have let him near him if he were dark...
Maybe everything would be fine after all.