Going Home
There were two things Alastor Moody knew in the summer of 1994- Constant vigilance would save him when nothing else could, and his trust in the Order of the Phoenix should be absolute. Sirius Black's betrayal had shaken them all, but that was fourteen years dead and gone, and he knew that everyone who had survived was good and solid, that they were what they'd always been, just the sort he wanted at his back.
He had a lot of time, that year, to think over the way that things went wrong that summer, and as long as he's breathing, he will hold himself responsible for the mistakes he made, and for each and every consequence of them. At the time, it hadn't really seemed to matter much- He had been certain that his death was imminent, waiting only a whim of the Crouch boy.
He'd been surprised to see signs of Christmas- Strands of holly wrapped around his walking stick when the boy came to see him, describing the Yule Ball and its innocent attendees in chilling detail.
Moody had made himself a promise that night. If, somehow, he were to see free daylight again, he would learn from this mistake.
He would never trust another living soul again.
It hasn't been a difficult promise to keep. He'd had few enough friends before, his family was all but gone, and after what he'd been through, the rest of the wizarding world kept its distance. He didn't question why- it simply was. He'd never trust them, and they wanted nothing to do with him. After a while, the most human contact he had was boys in his neighborhood, Muggle kids who didn't know any better, who threw rocks at his windows and made up stories about him to frighten their friends. None of which were anywhere near as frightening as the truth of what had happened to him would have been.
After a few months of this, he moves away, back to the house in the country where he grew up. He wants peace and space, and to be left alone. Out there it is easier to breathe. His nearest neighbors are miles off, descendants of the families who have lived here as long as his own. They don't know him, but they'll always know him. The older ones remember two children outsiders always thought were siblings, Alastor and Alice running half-wild through the woods and the countryside, along to the sea. They knew enough to leave him his peace, and that was all he asked of them, and all he cared for.
It's difficult, sometimes, working the land, but he still has two good hands, and he's learned to get by without the rest. Some days it hurts, and it is more than the old wounds and older bones aching in protest. Some days the pain comes from being here alone, when in his youth this place was filled with cheerful noise and love. And now- Only silence, silence that echoes and weighs upon him.
But he is home. He belongs here, and he'll never leave.
Muse: Alsastor "Mad-Eye" Moody
Fandom: Harry Potter
Words: 517
He had a lot of time, that year, to think over the way that things went wrong that summer, and as long as he's breathing, he will hold himself responsible for the mistakes he made, and for each and every consequence of them. At the time, it hadn't really seemed to matter much- He had been certain that his death was imminent, waiting only a whim of the Crouch boy.
He'd been surprised to see signs of Christmas- Strands of holly wrapped around his walking stick when the boy came to see him, describing the Yule Ball and its innocent attendees in chilling detail.
Moody had made himself a promise that night. If, somehow, he were to see free daylight again, he would learn from this mistake.
He would never trust another living soul again.
It hasn't been a difficult promise to keep. He'd had few enough friends before, his family was all but gone, and after what he'd been through, the rest of the wizarding world kept its distance. He didn't question why- it simply was. He'd never trust them, and they wanted nothing to do with him. After a while, the most human contact he had was boys in his neighborhood, Muggle kids who didn't know any better, who threw rocks at his windows and made up stories about him to frighten their friends. None of which were anywhere near as frightening as the truth of what had happened to him would have been.
After a few months of this, he moves away, back to the house in the country where he grew up. He wants peace and space, and to be left alone. Out there it is easier to breathe. His nearest neighbors are miles off, descendants of the families who have lived here as long as his own. They don't know him, but they'll always know him. The older ones remember two children outsiders always thought were siblings, Alastor and Alice running half-wild through the woods and the countryside, along to the sea. They knew enough to leave him his peace, and that was all he asked of them, and all he cared for.
It's difficult, sometimes, working the land, but he still has two good hands, and he's learned to get by without the rest. Some days it hurts, and it is more than the old wounds and older bones aching in protest. Some days the pain comes from being here alone, when in his youth this place was filled with cheerful noise and love. And now- Only silence, silence that echoes and weighs upon him.
But he is home. He belongs here, and he'll never leave.
Muse: Alsastor "Mad-Eye" Moody
Fandom: Harry Potter
Words: 517