The Marauders: Year Five #Wattys2017

Revelio

Fabian used all his strength and adrenaline and pressed himself against the bars of the cell, reaching out, trying to get hold of Boot's wand from where he'd slumped. The wand was just barely out of reach and Fabian's hand shook as he stretched as hard as he could, knowing he had to reach that wand in order to come to Moody's aid and he pushed himself against the bars as hard as he could and his fingers just scraped the wood... and the wand rolled ever so slightly...

"Avada Kedavra!" Yaxley shouted and Fabian looked up in horror, afraid of what he'd see - but Moody managed to duck the spell and it struck the wall behind him, shattering great stone pieces so that they flew through the air. They were not messing around these two - even Evan Rosier had attempted the unforgivables in this duel. How Moody was keeping them at bay was beyond Fabian - the fact that he'd been able to do it this long was a testament to how bloody powerful Alastor Moody really was, and - not for the first time since meeting him - Fabian could not help but well up with pride and awe at Alastor Moody's strength and bravery.

Moody was possibly the bravest man Fabian Prewett had ever known.

Possibly the bravest man in the entire world.

Muggle or magical.

He was invincible, it seemed. Impossible to take down.

But then Evan Rosier waved his wand.

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" Rosier screamed.

And a great gold rope seemed to whip from the end of his wand and it lashed at Moody, wrapped about his leg just above his knee. Moody's attention had been turned to Yaxley - blocking a killing curse, and he did not have time to turn back to block Evan Rosier's strike. It came too fast, nearly synchronized with Yaxley's. And as the robe twisted around Moody's leg with a heavy hissing sound, like it was made of fire, Evan tugged his wand back and with a sickening squelch, a horrible cry from Alastor, and a flash of gold light, Moody's leg was severed... and he fell, bellowing like a lion.

His blood spattered the wall.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Fabian had just got hold of the wand from Boot - pressed so hard against the bars that he would later find bruises where he'd slammed himself against it. He stared on in horror as Moody fell and though his heart sank and stomach twisted into knots at the sound of his fallen hero's shouts of pain. Fabian reached out to catch the offending wand from Rosier as it flew through the bars of his cell and into his palm. "STUPEFY!" he waved both wands at once at Yaxley and he was hit with a double dose of magical energy that sent him into the wall. "Alohamora!" Fabian shouted and the locks on the cell door fell away and he shoved his way out, stepping carefully around boot. "Accio!" Yaxley's wand flew to Fabian's hand as he shoved the dumbfounded Evan Rosier aside and rushed to Alastor Moody.

Even as he had cast the spell, Evan Rosier had ever expected that to be what had happened. He'd seen Severus Snape writing it in his potions book once, and used it without knowing what it would do. He'd only remembered it because he'd seen Snape underline the words for enemies beneath it and he'd lashed out with it. He had never dreamed that it would sever a man's leg. And yet there it was. Alastor Moody - separated from his limb, laying on the ground of the Ministry dungeons.

The Dark Mark on his arm burned.

Unsure what else to do, Evan ran. He ran for the stairs and his footsteps clattered as he rushed up them. Fabian was far too focused on getting to Alastor to bother going after the teenager. He threw himself to the stone and clutched Moody up, looking him over, assessing the horrible damage, "We'll get you to Mungo's," he promised, "They'll mend you up, you'll be good as new."

Moody panted and winced and grunted, trying to hold back the shouts and cries that Fabian knew he must want to utter. He stared up at Fabian with his magical eye - his real one was rolled back in agony, but the blue of that eye stared up at Fabian with desperation.

"You're - you're a good auror, Prewett One," Moody muttered, "A good Auror... I... I did good with you... you're going to be... great one day..."

"Bloody stop that," Fabian commanded.

"Listen to me... a... dying man... gets to say... anything he likes. Prewett One... you and... and Two... you're both... great... great Aurors... and you've ...made... made me proud..."

"You aren't dying, so stop talking like that right this moment! You aren't allowed to say rubbish like that. It's going to be okay, sir," Fabian said desperately, and he turned to look at Boot, raising Boot's own wand, "Ennervate!" he shouted.

Boot stirred.

Moody was still muttering goodbyes.

"Hurry, wake up!" Fabian cried, "Wake up. You need to go and get help! Get a mediwitch!"

"What's happened?" Boot groaned, feeling his head, where a bit of blood was oozing through his hair from a wound caused by his strike against the bars of the cell. "Where's Minchum?"

"Dunno but we need a mediwitch! Alastor Moody's been hurt. Quickly!"

Before Boot could move, though, there was a rush of voices suddenly and from the door of the dungeons streamed a good many people - Dumbledore, for one, Gideon Prewett, Charlus Potter, Ted Tonks, Bilius Weasley, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, as well as Bartemius Crouch Senior and several aurors with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"OVER HERE, HURRY!" shouted Fabian, "HURRY!"