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Patrë-on/Se7enX
Yeah! Here's the new chapter!
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-anwhile, in the Hospital Wing-
[POV – Third Person]
"Wotcher, Professor!" was the first thing Dora said when she spotted Moody, waving cheerfully at him.
The young witch had just received permission from Madam Pomfrey to visit him, and the mont she entered the Hospital Wing, she imdiately saw the man who had trained her back when she was still at the Auror Academy.
At this mont, Moody was reclining against an ordinary bed covered in clean white sheets, identical to the dozens surrounding it.
On the right side stood a small table bearing a tray with several potion vials — so empty, others still full — a bowl of half-eaten porridge, and a pot of green jelly.
He was dressed in a simple light-blue hospital gown, with matching shorts underneath. His magical eye and wooden leg were nowhere to be seen, giving him a strangely incomplete appearance.
Moody tried to look strong and indifferent, but it was obvious to any keen observer that he had not fully recovered.
His face was slightly pale, and he looked more worn and dishevelled than usual. On closer inspection, it was also clear how much weight he had lost.
His weakened, sickly condition was no surprise.
After spending nearly a year imprisoned in a cold, dark trunk, deprived of sunlight, proper food, and water, it was only natural that he would suffer lingering effects.
Seeing the hyperactive and clumsy girl approaching him, the old wizard rely grunted in response to her greeting. A scowling expression marked his scarred face.
Moody's lack of enthusiasm did nothing to erase Dora's smile. The tamorphmagus had long since grown accustod to her forr professor's rude and gruff personality.
Unfazed by the irritable aura surrounding him, she pulled a chair to the side of his bed and promptly sat down.
"Sooo… how's your health?" she asked casually, though a trace of concern was visible deep in her eyes.
"I've been worse," he replied, folding his arms. "This little incident wasn't enough to shake ."
"Yeah, yeah… Nothing can stop or frighten the fierce and relentless Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody!" Dora nodded firmly, raising a clenched fist.
Her teasing drew a small snort from Moody, though his expression visibly relaxed.
"Alright, girl. I don't need anyone puffing up my ego," he said, rolling his eyes… or rather, eye.
"Now tell , what did you co here for?" he asked, turning to her with curiosity. "You didn't just co to check whether my old bones were still intact, did you?"
"What? A student can't simply want to see whether her professor's alright? There has to be so hidden motive behind it?" she shot back, clearly offended.
Puffing out her cheeks, she crossed her arms.
"You might not know this, but I spent all these days wondering if you were okay… I was really worried about you!"
"Worried? Hmph…" Moody muttered slowly, eyeing the troublemaker before him suspiciously.
Then, suddenly, his one good eye narrowed. An old mory surfaced.
He rembered the last ti he had seen and spoken to Dora before being kidnapped by Barty Crouch Jr.
Back then, he had felt that sothing strange was happening around him. A deep unease — the instinct of his years as a veteran Auror — had warned him that soone was targeting him.
Driven by that suspicion, he had wasted no ti in sharing his concerns with his student, wanting her help investigating.
But Dora, like everyone else he had confided in, had dismissed his fears as just another bout of paranoia.
In the end, bitterly and frustratingly, his instincts proved correct. Soone truly had been after him.
And now, hearing his student claim she had been "worried" about him stirred a surge of resentnt and displeasure within him.
"Oh, you were very worried about , were you?" he repeated, staring at her intensely.
"Hmm… yes…" she nodded hesitantly, shifting in her chair.
For so reason, she felt there was sothing wrong with that question.
Ignoring the young witch's discomfort, Moody continued.
"Well then, in that case, since you're such a good and filial student…"
"WHY DIDN'T YOU REALISE THAT BLOODY IMPOSTOR WASN'T ?!" he thundered, teeth grinding.
Caught completely off guard by the sudden outburst, Dora jumped in her chair.
"W-well… I-it's just…" she stamred, at a loss for words.
And knowing she was in the wrong, she didn't even dare look at her ntor.
Then, realising Moody's temper was worsening with every second she delayed, she concluded it was ti to employ the most effective and powerful technique known to humankind:
Strategic retreat.
"Y-you know… I-I think I heard my mum calling …" she laughed nervously, rising quickly from her seat. "So, s-since I can't keep her waiting, I think I'll just b-be off—"
"Nymphadora Tonks," Moody called slowly.
The young witch froze mid-sentence.
"Sit. Down. Now," he ordered, his deep voice dangerously serious.
Dora heard the command — but her mind fixated entirely on the fact that he had used the Forbidden Na.
Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, irritation exploded instantly.
With fists clenched, she turned to protest.
"Don't call —"
But the mont she saw Moody's dark, implacable expression, any complaint or trace of ferocity evaporated in an instant...
So did her desire to flee.
"D-don't call Nymphadora…" she muttered softly, sitting back down obediently.
"Hmph." Moody snorted, ignoring the protest.
After spending so many years with this clumsy witch, Moody could say with certainty that he knew her very well. And he knew exactly how much she hated her own na.
But at that mont, he simply didn't care.
In fact, he had used her full na on purpose — just to annoy her.
Soone might say the ex-Auror was being petty and childish. But only he knew how furious he truly was.
His frustration and indignation toward his friends were already great; toward Dora, they were greater still. And mixed with them was disappointnt.
Moody had taught few people in his life. Among them all, Dora could be considered his only true student.
And he would never admit it aloud, but she was also the one he felt the most affection and pride for.
He saw her as a granddaughter… a very clumsy, ssy, hyperactive one.
And it was precisely because of that that he felt so disappointed and angry with her.
It felt as though all his training and teachings had amounted to nothing. She had still been fooled by a despicable impostor.
In truth, being fooled was the least of it. Unlike Headmaster Dumbledore, Dora had never even interacted with Barty Crouch Jr. while he impersonated the old wizard.
What truly bothered Moody was sothing else: for practically the entire school year, Dora had not sought him out. Nor even sent a letter.
If she had done so, perhaps she might have noticed that sothing was wrong with the "Moody" wandering the corridors of Hogwarts.
So in short, what the paranoid and terrifying Mad-Eye Moody felt in that mont was a sense of abandonnt… and sadness.
He felt like a retired grandfather who had stopped receiving calls from his beloved granddaughter after she moved away with her dull, insufferable husband.
'That girl needs to relearn a few old lessons,' he thought, lips tightening beneath his scars.
What followed, to Dora's despair, was a long, drawn-out, and extrely irritated lecture.
Knowing their ti to talk was short, Moody tried to cram into his undisciplined student's head every lesson on vigilance and caution he knew.
Dora only escaped the tornt thanks to Madam Pomfrey's arrival, appearing like a goddess descending from the heavens to announce that visiting hours were over.
For the first ti in her life, Nymphadora Tonks felt grateful to be expelled from the Hospital Wing.
The only person unhappy about it was Moody, who grew even more irritated at being interrupted mid-lecture.
And now, with the tamorphmagus gone, he had nowhere left to vent his frustrations.
He couldn't complain to Madam Pomfrey — or rather, he wouldn't dare.
So he was left sitting on his bed, teeth grinding as he muttered under his breath.
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-So Ti Later-
'Hmm… I wonder whether Alastor has recovered yet…' the Headmaster pondered, walking along the castle corridors toward the Hospital Wing.
Reaching the great doors of the Hospital Wing, he wasted no ti and entered without hesitation.
'Good thing I checked beforehand that Poppy wouldn't be here,' he thought as he looked around, relieved not to see the Healer.
He soon spotted his old friend sitting on a bed, muttering to himself.
"Hello, my old friend. How are you?" the Headmaster greeted with a serene smile, approaching.
But before he could co within three tres of the bed, Moody snapped toward him with a growl, narrowing his one functional eye.
Then, catching the Headmaster completely off guard, the old wizard launched into a torrent of curses and insults.
"You son of a @&{#! Goat fu&%^~! You %@#& old &^% who dresses like a #*&/%!"
Hearing the words spilling from that mouth — severely censurable by any age rating — the Headmaster's steps froze.
The smile on his face stiffened at once. His expression shifted from calm and gentle to confused and perplexed.
If not for his exceptional control over his facial expressions, he would certainly have been left gaping.
'What in rlin's na has gotten into him?!' the Headmaster wondered, blinking in utter shock.
End.
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