Love Among Muggles

When Ted opened his eyes, he was looking straight into the slightly crazed ones of Mad-Eye Moody. His skin felt raw, like he'd been sandpapered. Memories began to return to him.

"The Muggles..."

Moody looked sorrowful. "Five died. Seven lived. That's more than fifty per cent, lad."

Ted tried to sit up, but it hurt too much. He sank back into his pillows. Slowly he began to take in his surroundings. He'd only ever been inside one wizarding hospital, and this didn't look like that or a Muggle one. If anything, it looked as though it had been modelled on Hogwarts' gothic-looking hospital wing. "Is this St. Mungo's? It doesn't look like it."

"No, you're still at the university. I couldn't transfer everyone to London; getting you all this far was difficult enough. You're lucky; Mam Blodeuwedd is an impressive Herbologist and no mean Healer. You're in good hands." Alastor tipped a glass of water against Ted's lips.

"Which ones lived?" Ted asked, after a sip of liquid. He hadn't known the Muggles very well, but each one of them was a person, whether it was Eddie and his interest in geology or Sunflower and her inability to do housework. Then there was Gladys, Sky, desperately trying to mother every lost chick that came her way. Please let Gladys have lived, Ted begged in his thoughts.

Moody managed a half-smile. "Your friend got out. She got a few of the others out, too. She's a tough girl. I've already interviewed her." He didn't add that he'd helped pull more stones out of the broken wall so other Muggles could fit through the gap. As much as he'd wanted to catch the Dark Wizard, Alastor's first priority had been saving lives.

"Has she been Obliviated?"

"No, not yet. I want to see if we can't catch the swine who did this, and their testimonies will be useful. They don't mind staying in protective custody. They seem to like it."

"How come people found us so quickly? Did the hippies who escaped talk to the Muggle press?"

Moody took a deep breath. He didn't have to apologise very often, and this was going to be hard. "I thought you were a Dark one myself, and was following you. I was able to catch up with you all by the time the Dark one started killing people. Young Gladys, she tells me you did a fine job. I'm proud of you. You'd have made a good Auror. Good, quick reactions. Her little friend Emma says you saved her life."

"Emma?"

Little brunette, nice eyes..."

"Oh, I know." Sunflower. Something occurred to Ted. "Were you the tramp?"

Alastor nodded.

Ted laughed, and then coughed. His lungs hurt. He'd thought it was only people like Andromeda's family whom he'd have to tread carefully around. It was a shock, and a bit of a relief, to discover his mysterious shadow had been Alastor Moody. "Good disguise. If you'd worn a different hat in the city, I'd have thought I was just imagining seeing you in both places."

"I'll get more hats," Moody smiled. "You're one of the first people who's ever spotted me - but then I was out of my environment and you were in yours. Now, I know what I heard of the bloke, and what the Muggles say they saw, but I also want to know what you saw. Not what he looked like; I know that's no use. What were his spells?"

Ted thought for a minute. Breathing was painful. "He started with Charms. Really pretty ones, like you'd show off at a children's party. After that he used the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus Curse. And an odd one - burning without anything hot, if that makes sense. No fire, just burning."

Alastor Moody nodded, and scribbled something on a pocket-sized roll of parchment. He patted Ted's arm. "I misjudged you. But you know, you've got dodgy associates... I saw the Black girl come to see you in Warwickshire."

"Annie's all right," Ted protested. A thought occurred to him. "You know, she said something in a letter... something about Caractacus Potts having a task he won't talk about. I don't think the wizard was him, but you never know..."

Moody scowled. "Potts, eh? I'll look into it. And the girl told you this?"

"She's keeping an eye on things for me," Ted said hurriedly. "She'll be in big trouble if people find out. Please don't say anything to anyone!"

"Maybe I will, and maybe I won't," Moody mused. "It all depends on what I find Potts up to."

**

Andromeda Black was sitting in a courtyard, under some eaves sheltering from the rain. It was dark, and most other pupils were in their common rooms or the Library, although she'd seen Molly and Arthur sneaking off. A whipping from Filch hadn't stopped them spending time alone together, although it had made them more cautious about where they went. Andromeda had smiled to see them pass by, their hair glowing like bright coals in the dark.

Andromeda wished she could be somewhere alone with her man. This was as close as she could get. She'd had a letter from Ted in Wales, telling her he'd been injured in a fight with a Dark Wizard. He said not to worry, but his shaky handwriting made her worry about what had happened to him. She read his words again, hoping to find something in them that would reassure her.

Through the rain, she saw Venus approaching. Andromeda folded the parchment and slipped it into her pocket. She said nothing.

"Hi, Andromeda," Venus said, a note of pleading in her voice.

"Venus," Andromeda replied curtly. She'd come out in the cold and wet so she could be away from people whose politics she disliked. Venus was an eager follower of people like Lucius and Jezebel, desperate to be one of the in-crowd no matter what she was required to do to be accepted.

"I want to apologise for being rude to you last week. Please, can we be friends again?" The younger witch stood there, robes dripping, hair straggly.

Andromeda was deeply suspicious. "I'm not angry with you, Venus."

"You know I'm a good witch, don't you? I've never done anything bad or embarrassing."

"Ye-e-s."

Venus smiled. "Thanks, Andromeda. If there's anything I can do to make up for being rude..."

Lucius would love this, Andromeda thought. He'd see she needed his support and make her earn it. It looks like Venus has fallen out of favour in Slytherin and I'm the next best thing. "Venus, if you need my help, you can have it. You don't have to do anything in return," Andromeda told her. She meant what she said.

Venus smiled gratefully, and sat down next to Andromeda, who wished the skinny Slytherin would go and be miserable elsewhere.

**

Alastor Moody followed Ted's advice and decided to keep close tabs on Caractacus Potts. He was also still, reluctantly, following up on the Margaret Packham spying case. Moody was among those who'd believed firmly that the evidence was planted, but that buffoon Macnair had found it all and said it was legitimate, and any sign of who'd been in Packham's flat would have been swept away long ago. Moody didn't have a lot of time for Macnair. He was law-abiding, of course: there was no suggestion that Macnair would ever break a law himself. He always strove to uphold the society he loved. However, Moody thought that Macnair could be a little overzealous when dealing with Muggleborns. He was too aggressive in interviews, and tended to put them in the least pleasant holding cells. It was no surprise that he never questioned Margaret Packham's guilt. Macnair aspired to become an Auror, but Moody didn't think he'd ever be leaving the Magical Law Enforcement squad. Young Amelia, who was already relied on heavily by the handful of Aurors, would be promoted eventually, but Macnair would spend his life on the beat.

"Hey, Amelia," Moody called. "When Packham got convicted, who did the assessment on Caractacus Potts? Wasn't he one of her would-be boyfriends?"

Amelia Bones looked up from the pile of paperwork she was sorting though. "Macnair."

"Figures," grunted Moody. Macnair would probably have passed Grindelwald as clean, before war broke out anyhow. Nice pureblood wizard, old family, blah blah blah. Potts could be building a dungeon for Muggles in his cellar and Macnair wouldn't realise there was anything wrong with that until he started using it.

Ah well, Moody thought, at least I can stay in robes to watch Potts. There's something itchy about Muggle trousers...

Amelia came over and dropped the file on Potts on Moody's desk. "That was quick," he commented. The file was thin. Without even looking inside Moody knew that Macnair had only given Potts the briefest of interviews - enough time for Potts to declare he'd never touch a filthy Mudblood and Macnair to believe him.

"Given that just about all I'm ever told to do is filing, I'm pretty good at finding things," she commented wryly.

Moody was struck by a thought. Bones was an asset to the MLE, and he reckoned she'd make a good Auror one day. He could start her off early. "I need to go in disguise for something," he said. "People reckon Aurors are always alone. Do you fancy dressing up and coming with me?"

"I haven't taken any concealment tests," Amelia admitted.

"Get changed anyway." Moody shrugged, "I won't take you if your disguise is rubbish."

Amelia ran to get changed before Moody could change his mind. She came back wearing midnight-blue robes and a matching pointed hat; clothes that were very traditional but not eye-catching on Diagon Alley, and pretty much de rigueur in the more elitist areas of wizarding Britain. The hat had a natty little veil with some sort of appearance-altering Charm on it. Alastor donned blackish-green robes, a hat, and a pair of eye-changing specs with a fake nose that attached itself to his own hanging from the bridge. He used a few extra Charms, and hunched over a little. Amelia didn't look quite like herself, but Alastor had all but become another person.

"Ready to go?" Moody asked in a voice quite unlike his own.

"Ready," Amelia said. "Where are we Apparating to?"

"The little alley beside Gringotts."

They both disappeared from the office and Apparated into the grubby little side-passage. Amelia smoothed down her robes. She still moved as though she were stamping through a field hunting pheasants, or striding out to the stable for an afternoon's riding.

"Try to look disdainful and dainty," Moody advised. "Your body language is too open."

Amelia tried.

"No, no... Pretend you're Walburga Black."

Amelia did her best. She remained as sensible-looking as ever, apart from where her veil made people's eyes pass over her face without noticing it. Moody shook his head. "I reckon we should just try to go unnoticed. Take it from me, lass, don't take any mission by yourself where you've got to go in disguise. It'll do for now, though. Constant vigilance!"

"Who are we watching?" Amelia muttered as they moved off.

"Ted Tonks gave me a tip-off about Caractacus Potts. He usually lunches at the Adder and Arithmancer on Nocturn Alley on Fridays, so I thought I'd take you there for a bite," Moody muttered in his altered voice. As they walked down Diagon Alley together, Amelia noticed how people she knew vaguely and saw in the street regularly skirted carefully around her and Moody.

"I don't know whether they're scared or don't like the way we look, but people are avoiding us," she said softly.

Moody chuckled. "They won't in Nocturn Alley. Let me do that talking, though - you sound like yourself."

Amelia was a little disturbed by people's reactions to her clothes, nonetheless. They wouldn't even look too closely at her. It made her wonder whether she ever reacted to conservative-looking witches and wizards in the same way, and whether she herself helped contribute towards divides in society.

The Adder and Arithmancer was an old-fashioned place on Nocturn Alley, and the food it served was every bit as primitive as the décor. The exterior was all stern-looking white plaster and black beams, and the inside was painted a heavy red. The furniture was upholstered in red and dark brown leather and looked unpleasantly like liver. Amelia felt as though instead of eating, she'd been eaten.

At lunch, Moody positioned himself so he could see Potts. Amelia contented herself with observing the waiters in the chophouse. The place was dark, and she poked at the meat on her plate, not sure what part of an animal it actually was. She decided that as it wasn't spherical she could force it down. "How many seats were there at Potts' table," Moody asked her. He'd noticed her looking around.

"Six?"

"Four! Constant vigilance! How many escape routes does this place have?"

"Three. Um, the front door, the front window and up the stairs."

"Wrong! The front door, the front window and the back door out of the kitchen. Never go up, not unless you know there's a broomstick on the roof, and even then only if the downstairs exits are definitely not available. You could be cornered upstairs."

Amelia nodded. When people had heard she was transferring to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, they'd warned her to watch out for Alastor, who had a growing reputation as an eccentric. She rather liked him, though, and found that underneath his minor paranoia, he knew more about his job than any other Auror. A born manager, Amelia realised that Alastor's oddities were what made him so ideally suited to his profession.

"We haven't been spotted," Moody mused. "I'd know. Where are the others?" He frowned.

"Maybe he isn't meeting anyone," Amelia suggested.

"It's a table for four, the place is packed and Potts is there all on his own... wait, a waiter's taking him a message. Oh, he doesn't look happy!"

"His friends had to cancel?"

"Looks like it. That's a shame, 'cos I wouldn't mind knowing who he meets in this place. He's paying for the drink he had and he's going."

Amelia set down her knife and fork, relieved to be able to give up on the mystery meat.

"Keep eating!" Moody said. "If we walk out behind him, he'll notice us. Even if he doesn't, the staff will want to know what was wrong with the food, and then they'll remember us."

"But we'll lose him!" Don't make me eat this for nothing, Amelia thought.

"He doesn't know we're on to him. He should be back in his office this afternoon. I'll hang around outside it at the end of the day. Right now, we're just building a picture of him. We don't know that he needs to be watched constantly."

"No constant vigilance?" Amelia teased.

Moody thumped the table. "And if you spend all your time watching him, who's to stop someone else shooting you in the back?"

Amelia nodded. Moody glared round the room, managing to give off the impression of a genial old buffer gazing blearily at other diners. "There's old Borgin. I'd love to bring him in, but he always knows when I'm watching him... and, of course, he only ever sells 'antiques'. 'No one buys these things to use, Auror Moody,'" he said, imitating Borgin's snobbish tones. "'Nowadays they're merely curiosities'. My arse."

"Alastor!"

"Well... I'd like to know where he gets his 'antiques' from."

"You know, we don't seem to get very far with a lot of the serious stuff," Amelia observed. "There must be a way to make our work more efficient."

Moody sniffed. "There are Dark wizards in high places, Amelia. All we can do is trim away the lower ones."

He planned to raid Potts' rubbish later to see if he could find the note.