The Marauders - Order of the Phoenix Part Three

CVI: How is Mr. Moody?

"I'm telling yeh there was a bleedin' intruder, I'm tellin' yeh - scared'im right off is what I've done... Seen the bastard run right off that'a way." He pointed off across the carpark.

Arthur Weasley looked the way Moody pointed. As if on a cue, a raggedy old cat meandered out from between the stunned rubbish bins, whose trash was regurgitated all over the gravel. The cat stopped to sniff at some of the leftover fish finger grease on a paper plate the bins had spit up and Amos Diggory clapped his hands, "Shoo!" he called at it and the cat sped off, jumping over the brick dividing wall and into the neighbor's yard. "I think that may have been your intruder Alastor..."

Mad-Eye stared after the cat and shook his head, licking his lip, and grunted a curse under his breath as he turned, keen to head inside, but clumsy with his crutch, he nearly fell. Quick with reflexes built raising Fred and George, Arthur caught Moodya and steadied him before he could go down, giving Amos Diggory a quick glance of concern. Mad-Eye reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver flask, taking a slurp, and tucked it away.

"Bit early, inn'it, Al?" Amos asked.

"Be mindin' yer own bad habits, Diggory, instead of tracking after mine," Moody muttered. He thumped away into the house, and Arthur sighed and hurried after him, closely followed by Amos.

Moody grumbled his way through the house, seeming lost for a moment. "Where the devil is that blasted leg?" he hissed, glancing 'round.

"Here it is, Al," caller Arthur, having found the wooden limb leaning against the couch.

"Yes there is is, just where I've left it," Mad-Eye hissed, and he sat himself down heavily.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Amos asked, running a finger over a dust-coverer shelf.

"Aye I'm fine," the ex-auror grumped.

"I only as in concern, of course," Amos said, "I know its been hard on you, ever since you've left the department."

"Hard on me? Never been better," Mad-Eye grunted. "Perfectly glad to be rid of the place, frankly. Never been better..."

Mad-Eye was fighting with his prosthetic, jerking it this way and that, trying at getting it on. He licked his lips in frustration as he tried at it, cursing quietly under his breath.

"Once I get this blasted leg to attach, I'll be right as rain, the bleedin' thing won't just get on with it... Is is always this bloody difficult?"

Amos raised his brow. "Only when yeh try at screwing it on the wrong way, Al."

"Ferfuckssakes," Moody hissed through his teeth.

"May I help you, Alastor?" asked Mr. Weasley tentatively, reaching for the wooden leg.

"Mmhmph," muttered Mad-Eye, and he relinquished the leg to Mr. Weasley's helping hands, watching as Arthur turned the leg on it's spigot and tucked it 'round the nub of the end of Mad-Eye's knee. The magic eyeball swung about madly, looking every which way in apparent panic, the biggest tell-tale that Moody wasn't feeling himself these days.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory exchanged wary glances and Arthur stood up, having affixed the leg and gotten Mad-Eye situated on the couch. "You know we have to take you in, Alastor," Mr. Weasley sighed.

"I have to get to Hogwarts," muttered Mad-Eye, shaking his head, "Train leaves in just about an hour. I haven't got --" Amos Diggory let out a hoot of laughter and promptly covered his mouth, looking abashed as Mad-Eye glared at him. "And what's so funny, Mr. Diggory?" Mad-Eye grumbled.

"You? On the Hogwarts Express? Are you mad?" Amos said. "Those poor children."

"I've been on the Hogwarts Express before," growled Moody.