Fic by Nic
Written for the skating portion of the Hogsmeade Olympics, hosted by hogwartsishome. Character given: Alastor Moody, marauder era.
Title: Origin of Species
Summary: Alastor Moody is not entirely satisfied with his new assignment.
Genre: Gen
Characters: Alastor Moody
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Length: 525 words
Notes: This really doesn't go anywhere. I'm kind of like Russell T Davies in that respect >.>
Alastor Moody was not pleased with his new assignment in the very least, but he could not deny that he was beyond well-suited for it. Had it been up to him, he would be out in the field (well, more so than this), actively searching out the scum that denigrated their world, collaring them, hauling them in, adding another tally to his capture record (and whoever had posted a chart in the commissary with the Aurors’ names listed ever-so-neatly in a column followed by little gold stars representing their arrests was certainly going to get an earful once Alastor had deduced just who had done it - how dare they cheapen his work by reducing it to cutesy bits of paper Stuck on posterboard!). That was not to be, however; higher (political) powers had prevailed and he’d been relegated to sitting in a squalid café off Covent Garden just watching the goings-on of the world around him. Though he could not deny the added benefit of his new “field equipment” as the more politically conscious had deemed it, the fact that it had removed him from the chase did not sit well with him at all.
He gave a cursory survey of the café with his new apparatus as he was wont to do (having a roving magical eye took quite some getting used to, I’ll have you know), and snorted as he came upon the toilet and found a rather lewd display there. He was half-tempted to interrupt them and send the transgressors on their way just to be doing something, but he knew his duty and he was definitely not one to shirk it. He hadn’t become the most decorated Auror in the department with the highest arrest rate by following his various whims. It just wasn’t on, and he didn’t care for the distinct lack of dignity that would follow such an action. Yes, he might be the only one to ever know of it, but that was enough to dissuade him from doing it.
He turned his eye back to what was going on outside the café, and found a thoroughly typical display there: pick-pocketing on the east side of the square, grifters taking tourists for all they had in the covered market, buskers nodding to their hats and guitar cases inviting donations. Typical. His eye spun toward the direction in which he knew Diagon Alley lie hidden from the Muggles, and he gave a disgruntled sigh to himself. The higher-ups in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in all their infinite wisdom, had assigned the latest graduates to join their ranks to patrol the alley today. Those bunch of incompetent sods would never know what to look for! He doubted they’d even be able to pluck up the courage to venture down Knockturn Alley. They were too wet behind the ears, too inexperienced with the hardship of war. They didn’t understand what it was that they were getting into, not truly. Though death surrounded them on a daily basis, they still thought themselves invincible, eternal. But they would learn soon enough, just as he had done years and years ago.
Title: Origin of Species
Summary: Alastor Moody is not entirely satisfied with his new assignment.
Genre: Gen
Characters: Alastor Moody
Rating/Warnings: G/none
Length: 525 words
Notes: This really doesn't go anywhere. I'm kind of like Russell T Davies in that respect >.>
Alastor Moody was not pleased with his new assignment in the very least, but he could not deny that he was beyond well-suited for it. Had it been up to him, he would be out in the field (well, more so than this), actively searching out the scum that denigrated their world, collaring them, hauling them in, adding another tally to his capture record (and whoever had posted a chart in the commissary with the Aurors’ names listed ever-so-neatly in a column followed by little gold stars representing their arrests was certainly going to get an earful once Alastor had deduced just who had done it - how dare they cheapen his work by reducing it to cutesy bits of paper Stuck on posterboard!). That was not to be, however; higher (political) powers had prevailed and he’d been relegated to sitting in a squalid café off Covent Garden just watching the goings-on of the world around him. Though he could not deny the added benefit of his new “field equipment” as the more politically conscious had deemed it, the fact that it had removed him from the chase did not sit well with him at all.
He gave a cursory survey of the café with his new apparatus as he was wont to do (having a roving magical eye took quite some getting used to, I’ll have you know), and snorted as he came upon the toilet and found a rather lewd display there. He was half-tempted to interrupt them and send the transgressors on their way just to be doing something, but he knew his duty and he was definitely not one to shirk it. He hadn’t become the most decorated Auror in the department with the highest arrest rate by following his various whims. It just wasn’t on, and he didn’t care for the distinct lack of dignity that would follow such an action. Yes, he might be the only one to ever know of it, but that was enough to dissuade him from doing it.
He turned his eye back to what was going on outside the café, and found a thoroughly typical display there: pick-pocketing on the east side of the square, grifters taking tourists for all they had in the covered market, buskers nodding to their hats and guitar cases inviting donations. Typical. His eye spun toward the direction in which he knew Diagon Alley lie hidden from the Muggles, and he gave a disgruntled sigh to himself. The higher-ups in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in all their infinite wisdom, had assigned the latest graduates to join their ranks to patrol the alley today. Those bunch of incompetent sods would never know what to look for! He doubted they’d even be able to pluck up the courage to venture down Knockturn Alley. They were too wet behind the ears, too inexperienced with the hardship of war. They didn’t understand what it was that they were getting into, not truly. Though death surrounded them on a daily basis, they still thought themselves invincible, eternal. But they would learn soon enough, just as he had done years and years ago.