Time Spent in a Trunk
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters, places, and ideas belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros.
Drat! If only I had the presence of mind and the physical strength, I would have watched in enjoyment as the dementor administered the kiss to that bastard. I, Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, locked in me own bleeding trunk for ten months by your typical, run of the mill Death Eater! Junior was good, he was. Deserves one of those Muggle Oscars for best acting. The baby-faced git even fooled Albus. I must be getting too old for this. Yes, love, I'm still an Auror despite what you have heard. Perhaps I should give notice to the Ministry that I plan to resign. No, perhaps I shouldn't. If I do, that spineless Fudge would be sure to tell Malfoy. I told Albus that we should have sent the arrogant, in love with himself, evil, git Malfoy to Azkaban. Claimed that he was under the Imperius Curse, he did. Imperius Curse, me arse!
Ah well, let me tell you me story. First, I am not paranoid. I am a firm believer in constant vigilance. Yes, that bastard, Crouch Junior, had me pegged. Fooled everyone, he did. It's no wonder that he did. I spent many a time at his father's house, and he there, all the while, in an Invisibility Cloak. I must be getting too old for this. Perhaps I'll carry the Foe-Glass with me everywhere I go. CONSTANT VIGI. No. CONSTANT WATCHFULNESS!
Oh, if you've only witnessed the things I have seen, then you would understand. I know that I am the laughingstock of the magical community. They can laugh until they croak. Laugh, I say! Yes, they believe I am befuddled by imaginary threats and enemies. They are real! Lord Voldemort has returned to power. Who is laughing now? Lost part of me nose to Evan Rosier in me attempt to capture the evil git. Ah, if you only knew what I know! Ms. Rowling, intelligent Muggle that she is, failed to tell you what happens when two curses merge and rebound on an unfortunate wizard or witch. Yes, that is how I lost a chunk of me nose. Lost me leg the same way to an evil hag. Thought I learned me lesson after the second time, but alas, lost me eye to a deranged wizard. The idiotic git thought that I was a giant, fanged flobberworm. I am forever thankful of the wizards and witches at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for the magical eye. Ah, but I do wish that I was the handsome wizard that I was in days of old. Now, I look like a cross between a tree trunk and a young child's drawing of a person. Nice available witches in me age bracket avoid looking at me. My appearance frightens them. Albus tries to help, but he also frightens them.
Yes, when am I going to get to the point, you ask? Now.
One evening, I was sitting at the table enjoying a nice cup of chamomile tea and crumpets, in the comfort of me home, when that bastard Crouch Junior apparated in front of me. Hell of a shock, I say! Before I could react, the baby-faced git had rendered me immobile by the Body Bind Curse. I lay there, impotent, as he yanked a strand of hair from me scalp. You see, he had brought a goblet of unfinished Polyjuice Potion with him. I thought to myself, as I watched him drop me hair into the goblet and drink from it, Alastor, this has to be the lowest point of your career as an Auror. I was wrong. The bastard, after transforming into me image, then dropped me into me own bloody trunk. And locked it! As I lay there in the darkness, I kept asking myself, Alastor, Alastor, how could you let this happen? Yes, it was the lowest point of me career...or so I thought.
Soon, after what seemed to be weeks in me trunk, I realized that the bastard had taken me to Hogwarts. There was no longer any need for him to keep me in a body bind because I was under the Imperius Curse. How I fought it! Yes, the *expletive* was posing as me, teaching the lesson I was to teach. He was good, he was. Fooled Albus. Ah, but Albus should have known that I would have never demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse in front of the Longbottom boy. Cruelly insensitive that was. Turning that Malfoy boy into a ferret was the only good thing that *expletive* accomplished. I tell you, it is unpleasant to have your hair yanked out of your scalp everyday.
After awhile, I became very weak trying to fight off the Imperius Curse. Soon, five months had passed. The bastard gleefully told me how he had fooled everyone, how he had befriended young Potter. He laughed each time he told me how much time had passed. I continued to grow weaker. The evil git gave me little food or water. Actually, it made perfect sense. As time passed, I grew even weaker and me mind became less clear. I kept thinking of me magical eye. Oh dear, how I wanted it! It became an obsession. I kept asking the baby-faced git for it, but he only laughed at me. One day, during a time when the mists in me mind cleared briefly, I reminded the fool that if he allowed me to die, he would no longer be able to pull off his charade. He laughed, and told me that by that time he would have rejoined Voldemort and young Potter would be dead.
I became so weak that I was barely conscious most of the time. When I was initially locked into me trunk, I thought at the time that that was the lowest point of me career. How so very wrong I was! The lowest point was soiling me pants. Yes, dearie, there weren't any toilets in me trunk. I was not provided with what Muggles refer to as adult undergarments, Depends, or diapers. I began to stink to high heaven, but there was nothing much I could do about it. Junior had taken me wand. The smell alone was enough to knock me unconscious. Imagine ten months confined in a small space smelling your own feces and urine! Noxious! Toxic! Occasionally, the foul odor overpowered me to the point where I vomited. That only made matters much worse.
Albus said that when he pulled me from the trunk, he nearly retched and passed out from the noxious smell of excrement. McGonagall, Snape, and Potter gagged, I was told, when Albus placed me onto the floor of the room they were in. It was very kind and thoughtful of Ms. Rowling to leave this miserable bit of information out of the book. I am forever grateful, Ms. Rowling. Compassionate Muggle, she is.
I heard everything while recovering in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, but I didn't let on that I did. I was tired and in a black depression; I didn't want to be pestered. Half of the time, I feigned sleep. I know that Black is an Animagus and had escaped Azkaban. That is good. He should have never been in Azkaban. Innocent, he was! Only Albus and I believed him to be. Yes, I heard it all. James and Lily would have been proud of their son. Courageous boy, Harry is.
I am home now. No one knows where I live; I don't tell anyone. When I send mail, I use a different owl each time. No one can decipher my letters except Albus. I use runic symbols, troll, and that American Muggle street language that uses terms such as "phat," "dope," and "peeps." Just recently, I was forced to move again. I was in me study when I heard this high-pitched sound coming from another part of the bungalow. Immediately, I leapt up, ran in the direction of the noise, aimed me wand, and shouted, "Obliterate." Unfortunately, it turned out to be me tea kettle. I had no tea that evening. I gathered up all of me things and left that night before the Muggle law enforcement squad or Arthur Weasley showed up.
Now you know my tale.