The Deadliest Battlefield

Chapter 23

The Deadliest Battlefield

"I appreciate you squeezing me in on such short notice, Holly."

"Save it, Alastor. This is business, so don't expect any hanky-panky."

"I just wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings about the other night."

"That all depends. Did you bring me my money?"

"Of course.... Er, am I paying you for the night or by the hour?"

"By the hour, cheapskate."

"How much time does these four Galleons buy me?"

"Til about nine o'clock."

"Let's not tarry, then."

Moody opened the gilded door for his date which led them into a grand ballroom. They walked the polished, blonde-marble floors which reflected brilliantly the ivory and gold treasures that decorated the walls. Two majestic columns served to support the dazzling forty foot high ceiling. An arrangement of crystal teardrop chandeliers, suspended magically in midair, floated as billowy clouds that seemed to dance to the tempo of the orchestra. It was truly a venue worthy of the wizarding elite.

Holly took Moody's arm as the couple sought to navigate through the crowd. "So, what does one do at these things, exactly?"

"Try to remain invisible. If anyone engages you, just grin and nod. Think you can handle that?"

Holly tried to suppress a smile. "I think so."

Moody scanned the sea of strange faces, trying desperately to find either Reuben or Angie. He failed to notice the affluent-looking couple standing beside him and regarding him intently.

"Excuse me. Are you Alastor Moody?"

Moody turned to acknowledge the distinguished red-haired man. On his arm was an attractive older woman with black flowing hair, wearing a tiara that matched her diamond-laced gown. "I am," he answered apprehensively.

"Septimus Weasley." He shook Moody's hand firmly. "Thank you for bringing my boys home." He presented the woman on his arm in introduction. "This is my wife, Cedrella."

Cedrella hugged Moody with tears of gratitude in her eyes. "Bless you, sir."

Moody tried his best to hide his discomfort. To his chagrin he saw the display had attracted the attention of those standing nearby. "Really, it's nothing, madam."

"Nonsense," Septimus replied. "You have my eternal gratitude. If there is anything you need, anything, don't hesitate to look me up."

"Eh now, Septimus, just because you're the wealthiest man in the room doesn't mean you get a monopoly on the guest of honor." A young wizard who about Moody's age stepped in an offered his hand, introducing himself as Edgar Bones.

Edgar was accompanied by another couple whom Moody recognized: Minerva McGonagall, along with her companion...the same man who was with her at Hogwarts earlier that day.

Moody's eyes were drawn to the fine Wizengamot embroidery on the lapel of his jacket when he introduced himself. "Benedict Billings. We haven't met formally, but I believe you already know my fiancée, Minerva?"

"That I do." Moody nodded to acknowledge McGonagall, and she curtsied in response. "I'm sorry, did I hear 'fiancée'?"

"Yes," Billings answered, looking to Minerva. "I finally wore the old girl down."

"You're a lucky man." Moody sought to engage McGonagall again, saying, "And congratulations to you as well, Professor McGonagall. It is Professor by now, isn't it?"

"Not for long," Billings replied before McGonagall could answer. "No wife of mine is going to have to work for a living."

"And in this economy? You must do pretty well," Moody said.

"Not as well as Septimus here, but give me a few years."

Edgar snorted. "The bloke pushes through one initiative, and he already has his heart set on being Chief Warlock."

"Well, I'd have to get rid of you first, Edgar." Billings' retort garnered a laugh from the group.

"Say, Moody, maybe you can settle a debate for us?" Edgar queried. "As an officer on the front lines, we wanted to hear your take on the recent glut of black-market wands, and the commensurate crime, as justification for wand registration."

Much to Moody's relief, a waiter happened by and offered the group spirits. He promptly grabbed a large glass of wine from the steward's tray and downed half of it in one gulp. It didn't have the same sting as firewhisky, but it would have to do. "I don't think I'm qualified to comment, sir."

Holly watched Moody twist in the wind with some amusement and could stay quiet no longer. "Rubbish! You're completely qualified, Allie-kins."

Moody gave his date a sideways glance. "Thank you for the vote of confidence, Holly dear, but I really don't have much of an opinion on the matter."

"Don't be shy, Allie-kins." She clung tightly to Moody's arm when he tried to pull away, almost causing her to spill her wine. "Just on the way up here you were telling me how you think all these stuffed shirts, with their old-world platitudes, are serving to create the very malcontent that they're purporting to prevent."

"Finally! Someone with stones!" Billings said, slapping Moody on the back. "Play your cards right, Moody, and you'll be heading the M.L.E. one day."

Moody clenched his teeth as the pain pulsed through the wound in his shoulder. "Well, I rather enjoy just being an Auror, Mr. Billings."

"Of course you do. I really admire your nose-to-the-grindstone approach, Moody. Just know that it never hurts to have the proper connections."

"Leave the man alone, Benedict," Septimus said. "Not everyone likes to play the game."

"Says the man who is the head of the business guild," Edgar's muffled voice teased behind his glass.

Billings continued to press the issue. "So, Moody, about the minister's new initiative. Edgar thinks it's a sign for tighter controls. I'm on the fence, myself. I know the minister likes her pet projects, but she doesn't think of the associated costs to maintain them."

"It's easy to criticise, Benedict," Septimus interjected. "But we need some of those 'pet projects'. Take the Hogwarts Express, for example..."

"The Hogwart's Express is a cash-bleeder, Septimus," Billings argued. "It's eventually going to go broke."

"But, you can't assign a price tag in the case of wand registration, Benedict," Edgar said. "A Dark Wizard is more manageable without his wand. Ergo, control the wand, and you control crime..."

"And the wizard," Holly said under her breath.

Edgar raised an eyebrow at her. "Excuse me?"

"A wizard is defined by his wand, is he not? Do you realize how demeaning it is to get along without one? It makes one feel like a bloody house-elf."

Edger shrugged. "There's nothing to stop any law-abiding citizen from obtaining a proper wand..."

"As long as they can afford one." Holly's irritation was manifest in the volume of her voice.

Moody was already working on his third glass of wine. "Holly, remember, invisible?"

"Let her be, Moody," Billings said, grinning. "It's refreshing to hear a woman speak her mind for once, especially when it's in my favour." He failed to notice that McGonagall had then extricated herself.

McGonagall's absence, however, was soon trumped by the arrival of another wizard. "Pomona? I thought I heard your voice."

Holly turned abruptly at the mention of her real name and nearly froze. "P-Professor Dumbledore."

"Pomona?" Moody said as he leaned in closer to his date to whisper, "I thought your name was Holly...Ouch!" He had forgotten how sharp her nails were.

Dumbledore embraced her. "How wonderful it is to see you again." He regarded his former pupil with pride and went on to proclaim to those standing around, "Pomona here was one of Hufflepuff's top students. She excelled in Herbology, if I recall correctly."

"You don't say, Professor," Moody said with a broad smile. "You've never told me that, Pomona."

Pomona smiled nervously. "There was nothing to tell, really."

"She's being modest," Dumbledore said. "Pomona loved to work with her hands. Her lush garden could make anything grow."

Moody raised his glass and chuckled, "I can certainly attest to that."

"What are you doing with yourself these days, girl?" Dumbledore winked as he leaned in closer. "Running your own successful business, I imagine?"

"Well... uhm... I'm between ventures right now, sir."

Moody took a break from nursing his beverage to add, "Nevertheless, there is no one who plants more seed in Godric's Hollow than Pomona."

"I would expect nothing less." Dumbledore placed a hand on Pomona's shoulder and whispered, "You know, I hope you don't think it too forward of me to ask if you would be interested in a position at Hogwarts? I think your talents in Herbology would round out the curriculum quite nicely."

Moody couldn't resist commenting yet again, "That's not the only thing she can 'round out'...." Meh, that one was rubbish.

Pomona tried to shy away, but Dumbledore was very persistent. "I... don't think that would be a good idea..."

"You should do it, Pammy," egged Moody. "She'll do it, Professor."

"No, Alastor."

Dumbledore frowned. "I don't want to impose..."

"Nonsense, she wants to do it. She's just shy's all." Moody put an encouraging arm around his date. "When Pomona opens up, she can be extremely accommodating...Ouch! Bloody hell, woman!"

Dumbledore smiled. "Will you please just think about it, then, my dear?"

Pomona curtsied and said, "O-of course, Professor."

Moody grinned in satisfaction when Pomona glared at him. His good humor soon faded, however, when he caught a glimpse of Reuben and Angie mingling with Cygnus and Druella Black. His gaze locked on Druella like tunnel vision. She was stunning in her silver sequined gown and matching hat, the smile on her lips visible just below the brim. To his horror she turned to regard him, as if she knew she was being watched, and he promptly looked away, trying to pretend he didn't see her.

It suddenly got warm in the room. His heart thumped against his chest angrily. His breathing was labored. It was a sensation he experienced many times in the field: Fight or Flight.

Moody chose the latter. "Will you all excuse me?"

As Moody turned to leave, Pomona clung to his arm. "Where are you going? Don't leave me with these people."

Moody gently forced himself free. "I'll only be a moment; you'll be fine."

"I hate you," she whispered.

Moody kissed her hand. "I know, love. I know."

"Don't worry, Moody; we'll keep her company while you're away," Edgar said as he stood between them. He offered Pomona his arm, saying, "We would love to hear more about your views on wizarding economics, milady."

Pomona took Edgar's arm tentatively. "Y-you would?" She smiled at Edgar's encouraging nod.

The remainder of their conversation was drowned by the surrounding ambient chatter as Moody made his way across the room. He headed straight for the balcony, trading in for a fresh glass as he passed another wine steward. Once outside, he breathed in deep the cool night air. He clenched and unclenched his hand until the tingling in his fingers abated. The alcohol finally started working to slow his rapidly beating heart.

When his breathing returned to normal, he noticed that he was sharing the balcony with McGonagall. She looked down to the street below, seemingly oblivious to his presence. For the first time that night he took notice of her: the way her silk stole draped around her shoulders, the way the night breeze played upon the hair at the nape of her neck. He found himself approaching her unsolicited. "I suspect you're out here for the same reasons I am, Professor."

"I'm not a professor." McGonagall did not turn to acknowledge him when she responded, "And I wouldn't presume to know your reasons for being here, Auror Moody."

"You and Billings, eh? When's the big day?"

"If you don't mind, I'm not in the mood for small talk right now."

"Right. I can't stand these things either." He paused to sip his drink. "Normally I wouldn't intrude, but since this is the only balcony available, I'm afraid we're going to have to suffer each other's company for a bit."

"Then I would appreciate it if you would suffer it on the other side, in silence."

Moody finished the last of his wine. This time he chose the former. "So, are you a bitch to everyone you meet, or do I just bring it out of you?"

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Typical."

"Pardon?"

"Still the same selfish git who prides himself on being contrary to everything around him."

"I haven't noticed an evolution in your character, either, Ms. Teacher's Pet. It seems fitting that a stuck-up, humorless prude like you would end up with a self-aggrandizing snob like Billings."

"You are the last person I would expect to dole out relationship advice, seeing as how your 'date' just left with one of the barristers."

"You don't say?" Moody looked back inside to see Edgar opening the door to the exit with Pomona on his arm. He pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time. "Is it nine o'clock already?"

"Ill-mannered beast!"

"Now I'll drink to that," Moody said, holding up his glass. Noticing it needed refilling, he started to leave, but paused upon seeing a rash of purple spots suddenly appear on her arm. He peered closer unsure if what he was seeing was merely a side effect of the alcohol. "What the hell?"

McGonagall gasped when she saw the bruises and covered her arm with her stole. Unfortunately, removing the shawl revealed even more bruises newly manifested on her pallid shoulders.

"When improperly healed, stress can cause the wounds to reemerge, remember?" Moody brushed back her hair to get a better look. They were in the shape of palm prints. "Who did that to you?" His eyes narrowed.

She jerked away, not looking him in the eye. "Th-they're accidents."

Moody calmly set his glass on the ledge. He watched her briefly while she waved her wand over her forearm. "You surprise me, McGonagall."

She tried to reach for him as he went, but he shrugged her off. "What are you going to do?"

Moody stormed from the balcony, ignoring the clacking of McGonagall's heels as she struggled to keep up. It didn't take him long to find Billings by the stage speaking privately to an older, distinguished witch wearing a sash. Moody arrived just as Billings flagged down a waiter and snatched the wine glass out of Billings' hand.

Billings looked on, half amused, while Moody gulped down his drink. "I beg your pardon?"

"Of course." Moody wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He handed the half empty glass to the person next to him, unaware of the fact that it happened to be the Minister of Magic herself. "Hold this for me, would you, love?"

"Is everything alright, Auror Moody?" Billings said.

"Actually, I was wondering if you could answer a question for me."

Billings paused when he saw a flustered McGonagall approach, almost tripping over her shawl. "What question?"

"What does it feel like when a man grabs you like this?"

Billings winced when Moody grabbed him by the shoulder and started to dig his fingers in hard. It took all of his strength to free himself from Moody's grip. Enraged, Billing's swung at the Auror. Moody ducked the punch and countered with an uppercut that sent Billings to his back, knocking him out cold. The music stopped; everyone in the room had eyes on the scene.

"Ah, that's where I put that," Moody said as he retrieved his wine glass from the shocked minister. "Thank you."

...oOo...

The late night hours dragged on in the holding cell. The granite slab that Moody lay upon was becoming increasingly uncomfortable without the warmth of alcohol's numbing embrace. He reached into his vest for his hip flask, grateful that the guards did not bother to search him more thoroughly. He rattled the scant liquid contents inside.

Moody put his flask away when the rusty steel door unlocked. Light from the entrance spilled inside as the door creaked open. It made him squint, so he was scarcely able to make out the silhouette of an entrant wearing a long pointy hat. When the light dimmed at the door's close, he was surprised to see Albus Dumbledore standing across from him. The old wizard looked about, at a loss for a place to rest his bones. Dumbledore removed his hat and let it fall; by the time it touched the ground, it was transfigured into a plush chair.

"Hello, Alastor." Dumbledore took his time settling in his new chair, "Are they treating you well down here?"

"Still observing the niceties, Professor?" Moody said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Even now, at a time like this?"

"Especially at a time like this, my boy."

"Please don't tell me you're here to lecture me, Professor."

"No... No lectures. Although I do have something I wanted to ask you."

"I certainly have the time." Moody sat up to face Dumbledore. He rested with his back against the wall, sure to keep his weight off his bad shoulder. He massaged his bruised knuckles.

"So, how did it feel?"

"Agreeable," Moody replied, grinning as he curled his affected hand into a fist. "I imagine that McGonagall must be furious with me."

"If she is furious, I think it may be with herself."

Moody unscrewed the cap on his hip flask. "I just don't get how a powerful witch like her can allow herself to become victimized by someone like that Billings tosser."

Dumbledore sighed, stroking his considerable beard as he collected his thoughts. "Being in love can make us do things outside of our nature. This can be a good thing when that love is returned. However, when it isn't, it can destroy a person"...he regarded Moody; the young Auror's head kicked back, drinking the last drops of firewhisky in the flask..."if you let it."

"Yeah," Moody said. He screwed the cap back on. "Some people just don't know how to cope, I guess."

The old wizard grinned. "So, about my question..."

"You mean, that bit about how it felt wasn't it?"

"No. That was just another nicety, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said, his grin turned into a genuine smile. "I'm leading a delegation to the Northern Country tomorrow, and I wanted to ask if you would like to join me."

"Northern Country..." Moody thought aloud, recalling recent intelligence on the subject. "Is this about the giants?"

"Yes. It is my hope to defuse hostilities before they escalate. And I think your presence will send a powerful statement to both sides."

"That's a generous offer, but I suspect my calendar is going to be full for the next few months."

"About that. I've spoken to all the interested parties, and I don't think there will be a need for any 'official' action in regards to tonight's events."

Moody eyed Dumbledore warily. "I hope you didn't do anything extraordinary on my behalf?"

"Not at all. I just made the suggestion that to dismiss a decorated Auror for striking an ambitious junior member of the Wizengamot would invite the question, why would a decorated Auror strike an ambitious junior member of the Wizengamot in the first place?"

Moody's laughter echoed in the small cell. "In that case, I would very much like to join your delegation, Professor."

"Excellent." Dumbledore slapped his knees and rose from his seat. The chair then magically floated above him and, with a snap of the old wizard's fingers, transfigured into that same pointy hat to float gently back onto its master's head.

The rusty door creaked open once again at Dumbledore's command. With a sideways nod, he beckoned Moody over and the two men left.