I Do Not Own Harry Potter
A middle-aged man looked down at two gravestones in a small cemetery. He was handsome, with blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. But what drew one's attention, was the missing leg, and the man supported his weight on a crutch.
A beard man, with graying red hair, walked up to him. "Good evening Alastor," he said.
Alastor Moody snorted. "What's so damned good about it Albus?" he asked sarcastically, not taking his eyes off of the fresh graves.
Albus Dumbledore sighed. "You're here."
Moody snorted. "Yes, I'm here. I just lost my leg, buried my wife and daughter, who were both raped in front of me while I was unable to damned thing, when I then watched as Tessa was murdered! Then two weeks after our rescue, I come home from a check-up to find that my daughter killed her self! But I"M STILL HERE!"
He turned and glared at his friend.
Albus sighed and looked down. "Forgive me if I seemed insensitive, it was not my intention," Dumbledore assured the other man. "I merely meant, that you can still wield a wand. I've heard that you plan on rejoining the Auror Corps. You are still here, and able to help stop others from enduring what you have."
Moody grunted, and turned back to the two graves, where his wife and daughter now laid.
"Who was it?" Albus asked sadly.
Moody gave Albus a hard look. "Fitzroy, my own fucking brother," he spat. "I trusted the bastard, and he went and joined Grindelwald."
Albus sighed. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice filled with regret.
Moody shook his head. "Why? Wasn't your fault." He turned to Albus. "And I'll never let something like this happen again."
Without another word Alastor Moody limped past Dumbledore and out of the cemetery.
Alastor was never the same after his wife and daughter died. He spent the next two months, after getting a prosthetic leg, hunting down his brother Fitzroy Moody. No one knows what happened to Fitzroy, only that Moody came back and never truly trusted anyone else ever again. Sure, he'd trust them to an extent, but he became paranoid, checking everything for curses.
But he did take Albus' advice. He devoted his life, to preventing what happened to him from happening to others. He didn't always succeed, but he knew that he did some good. It was all he could hope for.
And, years later, when Mundungas Fletcher disappeared in the middle of an attack and he saw the green of the killing curse fly at him, to fast and close for him to dodge, he smiled.
He'd finally get to see his wife and daughter again.
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