A Difficult Night

Epilogue: Moody

Alastor Moody put out the flames licking at the chaise longue with a twitch of his wand, and turned to his own men. Dawlish had revived the Stupefied Astley, and was now bending over Catterick. With relief, Moody saw that his second was attempting to sit up, and that their counter-spell had been performed in enough time to save him from the worst of the fire. Then another scream drew his attention to what the final member of his team was doing.

"Scrimgeour, for heaven's sake take Cruciatus off the woman and let's have them in to the Ministry."

Scrimgeour's face was taut with anger.

"After what she did to Catterick - and would have done to us all? Like brother..."

If anything, the drubbing of the young woman's feet upon the floor intensified. The baby still in her arms began to wail. With a disgusted expression, Moody knocked down his colleague's upraised arm and cast a Stunning Spell.

"Now that's enough of that. We do what we have to do, no more."

He crossed the room and looked at the young woman. Her eyes were wide open, pupils huge. There was a thread of blood trickling from where she had bitten down on her lip. He touched his wand to hers to check that it was inactive, removed it from her grip. He was reaching for the child when he heard a low growl. Turning his head a little, he saw a cat by her feet, its eyes fixed upon him and its back arched. "Scat!" he hissed, but the interruption was enough to make him extra cautious. Fortunately. The wards on the child were easy enough to remove, since he had her wand, but...

"He was protected, the boy," he said aloud.

"I thought it was just complete disregard for anything other than her own skin," came Scrimgeour's voice from behind him. "Holding him up like that, like a shield. No real mother, is she?"

He took the child in its swaddle of blankets from Isabel Nott's grasp, still surprisingly strong, and deposited it in Scrimgeour's arms.

"There you go, then. You look after him for a wee while." Perhaps, later, he would be able to enjoy the memory of his colleague's expression, as the wail looked likely to develop into a full squalling fit. "Catterick? Better get yourself to St Mungo's. Scrimgeour will go with you and take the boy for the Healers to check over. Astley, all right there? Good. You deal with Nott. Dawlish, you'll help me with her. Back to the Ministry with them for now - though I don't doubt that Crouch will want them in Azkaban, soon enough." He looked at the child, whom Scrimgeour was trying awkwardly to soothe, bouncing him up and down.

"Considering adoption, sir?" Young Dawlish, using cheek to cover up nerves and emotion. Best to reply in the same spirit.

"Not ready for a quiet retirement changing nappies yet, lad. Couldn't trust you lot not to do something stupid as soon as my back was turned. No, he'll be all right..."

The child was alive, at least. More than could be said for the Browns'. He reminded himself of what had been achieved. The raids thwarted, as the Death Eaters realised their plans were known. The Longbottoms safe in Lancashire. Lily Potter's exhausted, radiant smile as her husband put his arm round her and their newborn son. Safe. It could all have been so much worse. But he thought again of the two men whom he had killed that night. Wilkes had hardly resisted their attack; Moody knew a man determined to die when he saw one. His face, when they uncovered it, had worn the expression of someone who had found at last what he had long been seeking. Then Rosier's ferocious defiance... Little more than boys, both of them. It was hard to see what chance there was of defeating those who would stop at nothing in the service of their master, who even delighted in sacrificing themselves for him. He wondered how many times he would have to witness the kind of scene that had awaited them in the Browns' small kitchen, and suddenly felt an immense weariness. Through the shattered window, there came the eerily sweet sound of a bird beginning to sing even though it was still dark outside. It couldn't be long till dawn.

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