The Rotfang Conspiracy

Chapter 35

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The Rotfang Conspiracy

Barty Crouch Jr knelt in front of an unconscious Alastor Moody. He dragged the cursed blade of his knife lightly across the old Auror's chin. It would be so easy to slit the codger's throat. Unfortunately, Polyjuice Potion works best from samples taken from living donors.

Unawares, Moody continued to mumble in his delusion. "... Greedy bastards... Fools..."

Crouch grabbed Moody by the hair and used his knife to cut off a greyed lock. This roused Moody from his trance, and he sat up with a start.

"At ease, Mad-Eye. The war is long over." Crouch placed the hair sample in the hip flask and closed the cap. "Funny, it's not exactly the way the history books painted it. But, such things are rarely portrayed accurately..."

Wheezing, Moody grabbed the young Death Eater by the throat. Though he squeezed with all his strength, it was but the grip of a babe.

"And here I was about to give you a break for the night." Crouch removed Moody's hand from his neck with nary an effort. "Well, since you have all this extra energy, let's have another go, yeah?" Crouch placed the tip of his wand to Moody's temple.

Moody's body convulsed.

o~o~o~o~o~O~o~o~o~o~o

"Will you stop pacing about, Jeff. You're giving me whiplash."

"Sorry, Alastor, I'm just wondering if Poppy got my owl, that's all."

Reuben, who was standing next to Moody, folded his arms as he shook his head. "This is pathetic: an Auror brought to his knees by the threat of being stood up by a schoolmarm."

Moody smirked. "Is that any way to talk to your new squadron leader, Reuben?"

"I'll talk to this tosser any way I please now that we're the same rank."

Jeff stopped pacing to regard them both. "I don't seem to recall you addressing me differently even when we were of disparate rank, Reuben."

"That's because I make no illusions about such things, brothers." Reuben strode casually to the mirror and adjusted the collar of his dress uniform. "In my case, I'm very accepting of the fact that they're just backfilling all the positions that have 'opened up' from the war. It's just compensation, I suppose: we risk our lives, and in trade, we get to don these spiffy uniforms that make all the women get slippery between the legs."

A wine steward passed, and Moody took a glass from the youth's tray. "It's nice to know that your acceptance of promotion was in answer to a higher calling, Reuben."

"I don't make the rules, Alastor, I just capitalize upon them." Reuben grinned. "I will say this: Auror First Class Reuben Ledley does roll off the tongue nicely, doesn't it?"

"Still, it doesn't explain why Alastor was passed up for promotion," Jeff said. "If anyone deserves to be an AFC, it is he."

"We're in agreement there, Jeff. Alastor must have really ticked somebody off."

Moody merely shrugged as he nursed his wine.

Jeff resumed his pacing. His boots clomped loudly on the hard floor. "What if she didn't get my owl... Worse yet, what if she did get it but doesn't show up?"

"Of course she'll show up," Moody said. For a brief moment, he considered casting the Petrificus Totalus Spell.

"How can you be so sure..." Jeff paused when, upon looking over from his perch at the top of the staircase, he saw Madam Pomfrey enter the ballroom with Minerva McGonagall at her side. Pomfrey was dressed splendidly in her laced evening gown. Her hair was styled into a single braid that ran the length of her back. They shared a look from across the room. Jeff admired her in the moment, emblazoning her beauty upon his soul.

"As I told you: women can't resist the uniform." Reuben hooked an arm around Jeff's neck. "Suck in your guts, and hold in your farts, brothers; it's time to give these pure-blood tarts the what for, eh?" He led the way down the staircase.

Moody placed his half-finished wine glass on the railing and followed his friends. The fanfare of the orchestra seemed to accentuate their descent as they stepped, sure footed, as gods in the prime of their lives and at the height of their powers. Moody took on a detached air as he penetrated the crowd.

Wizards from the upper crust of society had come to congratulate themselves once again on this latest example of Wizarding supremacy, for the Aurors were victorious against those who were the lesser of wizardkind.

Reuben was proven to be right as Moody found it difficult to ignore the many inviting glances of the available witches hungry for pure-blood mates. The Order of Merlin medal pinned on his chest served to afford him more attention than one of his rank would normally receive. He took it stride, however, as he knew from experience that such affectations were illusory.

Moody lost track of Reuben and Jeff as he mingled in the crowd, stopping for the occasional handshake and to exchange war stories with comrades. He graciously accepted introductions through mutual friends on behalf of many a fetching young lass, any one of whom was a worthy vessel to carry on his line. The trumpets signalled the assembly to take their positions. The floor managers made certain everyone was on task.

Oh, how he yearned for the simplicity of the battlefield.

Though there was no shortage of dance partners, at the first opportunity, Moody left the dance floor and retreated to the receiving area that adjoined the foyer. He soon found that he was not alone as he heard familiar voices engaged in pleasant conversation. In favour of solitude, he thought not to intrude until Shacklebolt's voice caught his ear.

"Auror Moody, please join us."

Moody approached from the far side of the fountain to find Shacklebolt and McGonagall standing by the buffet tables. His eyes were immediately drawn to Shacklebolt in her exotic evening gown. The bright colours that imbued the fabric on her form-fitting dress stood in stark contrast to McGonagall's, whose style was more reserved. The women continued to talk amongst themselves until he came within earshot.

"I didn't realize you two were on such familiar terms?" Moody said.

Shacklebolt smiled. "If you'll remember, Alastor, Minerva accompanied Albus and I to the Minister's very doorstep. She and Albus were instrumental in getting the Minister to reverse her decision over the war declaration."

McGonagall blushed. "Queenie is being kind."

"I'm sure that it was a team effort," Moody said. "And, for me, the reversal came in the nick of time, for which, I thank you both."

"I'm certainly glad that, at the very least, you did not come to harm, Mr Moody," McGonagall replied.

"That is one sentiment we have in common, Miss McGonagall," Moody said. "And may I add that your attendance tonight is an unexpected pleasure."

McGonagall lowered her eyes. "That's very nice of you to say, Mr Moody. It being a school night, I wouldn't normally attend such a function were I not asked to chaperone a friend."

"That friend wouldn't be Madam Pomfrey, would it?" he questioned, though he already knew the answer.

"Yes. She is here on the invite of an associate of yours, I believe?"

"That would be Auror First Class Geoffrey McKinley," Moody confirmed. "Madam Pomfrey is a little young, but she doesn't seem the type to be in need of a chaperone, Miss McGonagall."

"It's more for moral support, if anything, Mr Moody."

"I understand. If it's any consolation, I can attest that the Auror at her side is beyond reproach. Moreover, I ask that you not judge him too harshly on account of his friendship with me."

"I drew a similar conclusion upon meeting the man, disparagement to your character notwithstanding. Although, hearing Queenie go on about you, I had wondered if there was another Auror going by the name of Alastor Moody."

Moody's eyes narrowed in Shacklebolt's direction. "Am I to understand that I have been the subject of discussion?"

"Only in passing," Shacklebolt said at McGonagall's hesitance to answer.

"Then I must insist that you ladies tell me what was said of me."

Shacklebolt arched an eyebrow. "Whatever for? It's just girl talk."

"So that I may correct any inconsistencies, of course."

"I assure you any such inconsistencies only served to your endearment," Shacklebolt replied. "You shouldn't be so paranoid, Auror Moody."

Moody smirked. "Ah, but paranoia is easy when pitted against two witches who are sufficiently formidable in the singular as to be invincible in the plural."

Shacklebolt regarded him with amusement then turned to McGonagall, saying, "Was he like this growing up, Minerva?"

McGonagall sighed. "I wouldn't know, Queenie."

"But you and Auror Moody were both Gryffindors, weren't you? Surely your paths have crossed on numerous enough occasions?"

"Miss McGonagall was a year ahead of me, sir," Moody interjected.

"Mr Moody and I had divergent interests," McGonagall added.

"That's a shame," Shacklebolt said. "You two would have gotten along so well."

Moody chortled, more so by the fact that McGonagall had to stifle her own amusement. The moment soon passed, however.

"Well, I think Poppy is in very good hands here," McGonagall said all of a sudden. She wrapped her stole around her shoulders and gripped her purse tightly. "No point in me sticking around, really."

Shacklebolt pouted. "Must you go so soon, Minerva? I'll have no one worth talking to if you were to leave."

Ouch.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've underestimated the lateness of the hour," McGonagall said with an apologetic smile. "All those papers aren't going to grade themselves, you know."

Thinking McGonagall's change in demeanour odd, Moody soon found the source of her apprehension. Benedict Billings, McGonagall's ex-fiancé, had entered the room. Billings eyed the three of them from the bar, but showed no interest at their presence otherwise. Moody shared a look with McGonagall and asked of her, "Would you like me to escort you back to Hogwarts, madam?"

McGonagall averted her eyes. "That's hardly necessary, Mr Moody. You and Queenie should enjoy the party." She left the two Aurors and disappeared into the lift. Billings likewise returned to the main hall after getting his drink.

The less than subtle exchange was not lost on Shacklebolt. "Did I miss something, Auror Moody?"

"No, sir." The reply was disingenuous, but Moody was eager not to broach the subject. "So, what were you two ladies doing out here so far from the festivities?"

Shacklebolt shrugged. "For the same reason you were, I imagine."

"Right... genocide doesn't exactly foster notions of revelry."

Shacklebolt smiled. "No doubt. However, I was referring to our proximity to the confection table." She directed him to the table that was arranged with an assortment of odd delicacies and lush desserts. She picked one of the specimens out from the floating tray.

Moody snorted louder than he meant to in the quiet room. "I see that you were telling me the truth when you said that you were fond of truffles?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?" She presented the candy. "Try one."

"I've never been one for confections, sir."

Her brow furrowed. "You don't like chocolate?"

"It's not that. Chocolate has just never been on my radar... until now." At her insistence, he allowed her to place the candy in his mouth. He closed his mouth slowly around the truffle to allow her fingertip to linger on his lips. The taste of it was rich and sensual.

Shacklebolt continued to regard him as he chewed slowly. "What do you think?"

"Alastor!"

Reuben's piercing voice did nothing to distract Moody as he watched Shacklebolt pick a sample from the tray for herself. Her full lips enveloped the chocolate confection.

"Hey, Tosser!"

Unfortunately, Reuben's voice became harder to ignore as he neared. Moody swallowed and clenched his jaw as he turned to rebuke him. "What!"

"What are you doing out here? The maestro is looking for you..." Reuben stopped and snapped to when he saw Shacklebolt. "Oh, sorry for the intrusion, Auror Prime."

Shacklebolt sniggered. "It's quite alright, AFC Ledley; after all, the maestro doesn't like to be kept waiting, does he?" After giving Moody a knowing look, she left, pausing as she passed by Rueben to say, "Congratulations on your promotion."

Reuben nodded in return. "Thank you, sir." And he remained at attention until Shacklebolt left.

Moody sighed when they were finally alone. "What does the maestro want with me, I wonder?"

"How the devil should I know?" Reuben spat.

"Say, you've worked with Auror Shacklebolt in the field, haven't you?"

"Once or twice."

"What was your experience with her like?"

"She's the consummate professional: each time was a learning experience," Reuben replied. "How was yours?"

"The same, I suppose."

Moody parted company with Reuben and, at his instruction, took the lift to the floor above. The torches along the wall flickered dully in the sparse hallway. He struggled to read the faded sign posted above his destination: The Hall of Aurors. He opened the aged door to a stuffy, oblong room. As he made his way to the shrine at the end, he regarded the many effigies of fallen Aurors that crowded the walls. A few he recognized from their battle with the giants the previous week. He met the maestro at the foot of the shrine and stood at attention.

The elder wizard did not acknowledge Moody's presence. He instead stood enrapt, face to face with the shadow of a beautiful, young woman. He reached out to touch her cheek, and she dispersed into mist. "At ease," the maestro ordered Moody, though he kept his back to him. "Sorry to pull you from the festivities, but I thought you'd like to know that Gurgess Titaiaja has been spirited safely out of the country to an undisclosed location."

"I appreciate you telling me that, Maestro."

"She asked about you...."

"Did she?"

"I suppose you're wondering why we're meeting in the Hall of Aurors?"

"The though had crossed my mind, Maestro."

"I've found that this place is ideal if you're ever in need of a private moment. People walk by this place every day, but few rarely deign to stick their heads in."

"Probably because it's rather depressing in here," Moody commented dryly.

"No. It's because this place represents an inconvenient truth."

"What truth is that?"

"Do you really have to ask in light of recent events?" The maestro finally turned to face the young Auror; his hands remained clasped behind him. "With the promotion of your partner into the AFC program, that makes you the oldest active member ever in second rotation."

"That is a dubious distinction, I take it?"

"That is correct. Aurors are expected to progress, not remain stagnant. You bring shame to those that have come before you when you squander what little potential you have."

Moody met the maestro's glare. "Since 'truth' seems to be the prevailing theme of our discourse, may I infer that I am free to speak plainly?"

"You may."

"I could care less if you keep me on second rotation for the remainder of my career. I didn't join up for the pretty uniform or the accolades. It is within your power to dismiss me, of course, but it is not within your power to make me feel unworthy of the colours that I have bled for."

It would be several seconds before the maestro allowed a thin smile to curl the corners of his lips. "Didn't you ever stop and think that the reason why you are still on second rotation is because you do not belong in the AFC program? I was hoping you would have learned that on your own by now, but you've proven to be a little thick in that regard."

"I don't understand."

"Have you given any thought to specializing in Dark Arts Investigations?"

"You want me to be a Dark-wizard catcher?" Moody asked, nonplussed.

The maestro snorted. "Dark-wizard catcher... I never did like that parlance: it's inaccurate. But, yes."

"But, Maestro, I'm not trained in DAI."

"It is my experience that, sometimes, instincts are more valuable than book learning, Auror Moody."

"Why me, if I may ask?"

"The perpetrators of this... Rotfang Conspiracy are no friends to wizardkind. As it stands, everybody is so eager to downplay what is staring them in the face because the giant threat has been eliminated."

"Not to mention the money to be made from all their land," Moody added.

The maestro nodded in agreement. "I suspect the perpetrators to be those already in positions of power. As a result, any official investigation will be doomed to failure because my movements will be scrutinized, and I fear that if I get too close, they'll just go underground. My strategy, therefore, will be to purposefully follow unlikely leads drawn from far-fetched conclusions...this in the hope of luring our suspects into a false sense of security."

"You're talking about disinformation."

"Precisely. In the meantime, I will need someone on the back end...someone invisible...with a fresh perspective."

Moody did not hesitate. "When do I start?"

"Believe it or not, you already have." The maestro snapped his fingers and three files Apparated before Moody. "These dossiers are all that I have on the three surviving members of Wolf Squadron."

Moody took the dossiers and skimmed their contents aloud. "Brignast and the Sweets siblings...."

"Inside you'll find their psyche profiles, skills, abilities and my thoughts as to their weaknesses. As for the rest, I suggest that you follow the money trail."

"I won't let you down, Maestro."

The maestro guffawed loudly. "You should go mingle, seeing as how you're now on the clock."

"Sir?"

"I guarantee you that the conspirators are at tonight's gala as we speak, revelling in their victory. I'm afraid that you're going to find that the hardest parts of your job are the... social aspects."

Moody snorted. "Does that mean the pay is any better?"

"No, the pay is still shit." The maestro gave him a rare, genuine smile. "On the bright side, you get to put more pretty colours on that uniform of yours."

Moody grinned in response. "May I ask one more question, Maestro?"

"You may."

"Why make a formal inquiry known in the first place? If these events are being hidden from the public, wouldn't it be better to feign going along with the status quo? Unless"...Moody paused as his train of thought led him to a conclusion..."unless, by not doing so you run the risk of arousing a suspicion that we know that they know?"

The maestro approached and placed his hand on Moody's shoulder. "Welcome to the party, boy."

Moody left the maestro at the shrine. As he walked to the exit, he noticed that his dress uniform had started to change colour from grey to black. A double chevron magically threaded at the cuff of his sleeve. He closed the door behind him and was surprised by Shacklebolt, who had been standing guard outside.

She brandished her wand as she leaned relaxed against the column. "Congratulations, Detective Auror."

"Did you have something to do with this, sir?" Moody questioned, presenting his magically altered raiment.

Shacklebolt shrugged. "I might've reinforced the maestro's notions, nothing more."

"Why didn't the maestro put you on this case, I wonder?"

"As the maestro's Number One, I'll be expected to work too closely with him on his investigation to be of any real help on the back end. Besides, I imagine he feels that this case calls for someone more idealistic"...she placed a hand on his chest, picking out a few lingering strands of grey before finally resting her fingers on his medal..."and hungry."

"Thank you, just the same."

She sniggered. "He wants to thank me... again."

Moody allowed her to straighten his accolade that was thrown askew by the transformation of his uniform...he wouldn't have minded if it took her all night. "Will you be returning to the ball?" he asked just above a whisper.

"I have someplace I need to be." She withdrew her hand. "Why?"

"It is tradition that a lady cannot refuse an invitation to dance when asked."

Shacklebolt regarded him with a hand rested on her cocked hip. "Do I look like a traditional sort of girl?"

"Is there something wrong with a gentleman asking a lady to dance at a ball, Auror Prime?"

"No... but, our style of dance might not be well received, Detective Auror."

"A rain check, then, Queenie?" he asked, undeterred, with that same lopsided grin.

"Persistence can be an admirable quality, I suppose, Mistah Moody." She denied him further scrutiny and left. "Good night."

They parted ways as he headed in the opposite direction toward the lift. A dull grin remained etched on his face as he pondered upon Shacklebolt's ever inscrutable demeanour. She remained a difficult person to read.

Moody returned to the atrium leading to the ballroom. When he stepped out of the lift, he was surprised when he came upon McGonagall and Billings conversing quietly in a remote corner of the corridor. He decided to interrupt them. "Is everything all right, Miss McGonagall?"

"Of course, Mr Moody," McGonagall replied matter-of-factly. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Moody was taken aback. "I... just thought..."

"You remember Mr Billings, don't you?" McGonagall paused to allow the men to regard each other civilly, though it was obvious neither had any intention of acknowledging the other. "Mr Billings was just leaving."

"What a shame," Moody replied.

Billings' response was a fleeting glower in Moody's direction. "Have a nice life, Minerva." He started to leave.

"You've forgotten something, Benny." McGonagall reached into her pocket and placed the object therein into Billings' hand.

Billings closed his fingers around the engagement ring and left without another word.

"Is there something on your mind, Mr Moody?" McGonagall asked in response to the Auror's quizzical look.

"I'm beginning to suspect that your role as chaperone was not the only reason you attended tonight's function, Miss McGonagall."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mr Moody."

"Of course you don't. My mistake," Moody said. "Perchance, is it still your intention to see yourself home at this late hour?"

"It is."

"Then permit me to renew my offer to escort you."

She eyed him warily. "How would it appear, I wonder, an unmarried wizard escorting an unmarried witch to her place of residence?"

"I wouldn't think to imply something so crass. It would be merely in my capacity as a public servant to see you home safely, my dear Miss McGonagall."

She rolled her eyes. "Really, Mr Moody...."

"Come on then." He sneered as he offered his arm. "That is, unless I frighten you?"

With a glare, McGonagall took the Auror's proffered arm, and they walked leisurely down the hall. Her fingers were drawn to trace the outline of the chevrons on his sleeve.

He couldn't help but notice her reverie. "Where are you?"

She blushed. "Sorry, was I miles away?"

"It's alright. You looked at peace for a change."

"I suppose I'm still wondering if you're the same Alastor Moody that Queenie described. She seems to think highly of you."

"Why do I get the feeling that surprises you?"

"Surely you jest? During your latter years at Hogwarts, you cost our house more points that any single student to date!"

"Well... yeah... but, if you divide it over the course of my seven years, the per annum demerits are acceptable."

"They still call you the Scourge of Gryffindor, Mr Moody."

"Do you believe that, Miss McGonagall?" He slowed their pace and looked down to regard her.

She blinked and retreated under his gaze. "No...well... not anymore."

"Then I shall easily weather the title, seeing as how I am in your good favour, madam."

"I didn't say that you had my favour, Mr Moody, just my willingness to concede that 'scourge' is too harsh of a moniker to apply to a person of even your dubious character."

He smirked. "Do you care to share these supposed deficits in my character so that I may correct them, Head Girl McGonagall?"

"It will have to wait for some other time: we're here." She stopped when they reached the third fireplace from the end of the corridor.

"Pardon?" Moody said at a loss.

"The headmaster authorized a Floo for Poppy and I to use tonight."

"Right. Of course he did."

"Surely, you didn't think that we were going to leg it all the way to Hogwarts did you?" She released his arm. "And in these heels, no less?"

"How stupid of me."

"Hmph. Some detective you are." She tossed her powder into the Floo. The fire turned green. "Thank you for seeing me safely down the hall, Mr Moody."

Moody waited until McGonagall disappeared into the flames before expressing his amusement at her cheek with a hearty laugh that echoed in the empty hallway. It was short lived, however, as he remembered that he had a job to do and no clue as how to do it. He made his way back to the receiving area and pushed through to the ballroom floor and into a room full of potential suspects. Daunted by his new perspective on the sheer number of people in attendance, his first instinct was to reach for his hip flask. He reversed himself, but he gave no thought as to where he walked and inadvertently bumped into the witch standing next to him. "Sorry."

"Pardonne-moi."

Moody knew that voice. Druella's accent was unmistakable. He turned to regard her; she gasped when their eyes met. "Bonsoir, Madame Black."

"B-bonsoir..." Druella's eyes widened upon regarding his unfamiliar uniform and the rank on his sleeve. "Inspecteur Moody?"

"Oui," he confirmed.

"Félicitations pour votre nouveau poste."

"Merci, madame." He bowed his head. "Comment allez-vous?"

"Très bien, Inspecteur." She curtsied in response. "I'm glad that all of my efforts to teach you French were not in vain."

"Indeed. Although, we have probably reached the limits of my conversational prowess all the same."

"You don't remember anything else that I have taught you, then?"

Moody thought inwardly for a moment and replied, "Où sont les toilettes?"

"Atroce," she giggled. "Your accent is still terrible."

Her laughter made him smile involuntarily.

Druella blushed under her former betrothed's gaze and averted her eyes. "I was... worried about you.... It must have been awful, fighting those savages."

Moody stood tall and dared to venture closer, relieved that she did not pull away. "Don't believe everything you read in the Daily Prophet, Druella."

She smiled weakly. "Still, I'm relieved that you weren't hurt, Allie."

They regarded each other in silence and were oblivious to her husband's arrival...Cygnus Black. Druella flinched when he spoke:

"There you are, darling. Come, the Malfoys are waiting." Cygnus paused when he recognized the Auror standing before him. "Hello," he greeted.

"Sorry, dear," Druella said nervously. "I had just, literally, bumped into an old friend."

"Yes, I do remember Alastor Moody," Cygnus replied.

"It's good to see you again, Cygnus." Moody extended his hand since Cygnus had initiated the greeting.

"Likewise." Cygnus returned the handshake. "After all, all of this wouldn't be possible without your efforts. You Aurors make the world a safer place for all of us."

"That's very kind of you, Cygnus."

"Say, my firm sponsors the upcoming annual Fall Formal; you should attend. There's never a shortage of upper middle class maidens on the lookout for an eligible bachelor of your supposed breeding."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Excellent. I'll have my secretary send along an invitation." Cygnus took his wife by the small of her back, and Druella said her goodbyes. "Now, if you'll forgive us the abrupt departure...."

"Of course." Moody watched the couple disappear into the crowd, unaware that Rueben was now standing next to him.

"Wasn't that Druella?" Rueben said.

Moody nodded. "What are you doing here on the sidelines? Have you danced with every woman in the room already?"

Reuben ignored the question. "Tell me, Alastor, do I have 'Muggle' written across my forehead or something?"

Moody gave Rueben a sideways glance. "What's wrong, now, mate?"

"These stuck-up trollops are what's wrong."

"You don't think they're picking up on your negative attitude towards women?"

"No. I'm sure that's not it," Reuben said. "There's something else... something I'm missing..."

"Couth, perhaps?"

"Why? Because I don't put on airs like the rest of you?" Reuben gasped when he finally took notice of Moody new uniform. "Eh, now, when did this happen?"

Moody casually adjusted his cufflinks. "It's the reason the maestro called me away."

"He suckered you into working DAI?" Reuben snorted. "A bloody Dark Wizard Catcher."

"It's just temporary, I imagine. I'll transfer back into the AFC program once my tour is done."

"Congratulations just the same, brother. Now, maybe you can put those detective eyes to work on scoping out some choice birds."

Moody smiled in amusement. "Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?"

"That sexy, full-bodied redhead standing over by the sculpture will do nicely."

Moody peered in the direction of the woman in question, and he snorted. "You do realize that's Angie...the same 'Angie' who graduated from Auror training with us and who has been like a sister to you?"

Rueben grimaced when he finally recognized Auror Angie Prewitt. "Well, 'sister' is a strong word, but I get your meaning. I wonder why Angie's dressed like a girl?"

"Because she is a girl, pot-tosser."

"I know that, toss-potter! I simply meant, why is she not in uniform?"

"Mess dress is voluntary for the women," Moody pointed out. "You know, you'd probably get a dance out of Miss Angie Prewitt if you asked her nicely."

"That's a waste of my time, Alastor; I don't shit were I eat."

"You mean to say that you follow a code, Reuben?"

"Of course. What kind of ninny would consider chatting up a co-worker?"

At that Moody clenched his jaw. "Not even if they fancy each other?"

"Are you daft? That makes it worse."

"How so?"

"There's no break in the torment: can you imagine living with a woman and having to work with her?" Reuben said with an exasperated snort. "And heaven forbid the complications brought about if she happens to outrank you... who needs the headache?"

Moody clenched his jaw again. "I have to admit I haven't considered that." He straightened as he contemplated Reuben's words. "But, what if the man were to outrank the woman?"

Reuben grinned. "In that case, it's alright; give her a good rogering, and then order her to fix you a sandwich."

"You're terrible," Moody chuckled.

"I know."

"Evening, gents," Edgar Bones said in greeting as he happened upon the two Aurors. "Good to see you two again, this time in more agreeable circumstances."

"Always a pleasure, Edgar," Moody said, shaking Edgar's hand. While Reuben greeted Edger in kind, Moody took notice of Pomona Sprout on Edgar's arm; she seemed uncharacteristically submissive and did not regard the men until Edgar presented her.

"You know your lovely cousin, Pomona, of course..."

"Cousin?" Confusion washed over Reuben face, knowing full well that Pomona and his former partner bore no relation. A firm elbow from Moody, however, discouraged him from following up on it.

Fortunately, the exchange was lost upon Edgar, who continued on to say, "I wanted to tell you that I did some digging around on that land trust you asked about, Alastor. However, despite my best efforts, the details of the Rotfang trust agreement are not public record. You would need a court order from the Wizengamot...which I assume you were trying to avoid."

"Yes, I was," Moody said. "Thank you for trying, just the same."

"Well, it wasn't entirely for naught," Edgar replied on the sly. "As head of the business guild, who do you think is the Chairman of the Board of Trustees?"

"Septimus Weasley?" Moody answered under his breath. Edgar nodded and referred him in Septimus' direction. The affluent, red-haired wizard was engaged in conversation with a group of wizards of comparable social rank. Under normal circumstances, Moody would never think to associate with such a man, even with a proper introduction. All his life he had witnessed, first hand, how the disparity of wealth acted as a blight upon society. After all, those with money invariably have the means to ensure they stayed wealthy, often at the expense of those less fortunate. It was all a game to those people, and Septimus Weasley's status, being the richest wizard in the room, suggested that he was exceptional at it. However, as it stood, Moody was in desperate need of a lead, and this very wealthy wizard happened to owe the Auror a debt of gratitude for rescuing his children from certain death.

"Are you a believer in fate, Alastor?" Edgar said, arching an eyebrow.

"Not in the least." Moody returned Edgar's knowing look with a grin of his own. "Say, do you think you could do me one more favour and work me into their conversation?"

"I figured as much. Give me a minute, and then casually walk by." With Pomona in arm, Edgar set off in Septimus' direction.

"Did you make a new friend when I was away, Alastor?" Reuben said when they were finally alone.

"What do you mean?"

"You and Edgar Bones seem awfully chummy."

"Are you're jealous?" Moody teased.

"Naw, you know what you've got, babe."

"You wanna tag along, then?"

"No, you bore me. Besides, I just made eye contact with a right piece of totty." Reuben elbowed Moody playfully. "Wish me luck; hopefully, you won't see me again me till morning with a smile on my face."

"Don't forget to use the Prophylactic Charm."

"I never go into battle without it, brother." Reuben said, with a wink. "What are you going to be up to, in the meantime?"

Moody set off when Edgar flagged him over. "Oh, I've been thinking about expanding my investment portfolio."

The music started up again.