Chapter 226 - The Order of the Phoenix (1/2)
The following evening, it was snowing again in the picturesque town of Hogsmeade. Most of the villagers were nice and warm inside their homes if not at one of the local pubs. Pulling his cloak closer, a middle-aged, brown haired wizard makes his way up the snowy cobbled streets. A new added red scar could be seen just under his chin from his growing collection of scars on his face. There was one over the bridge of his nose and another on the edge his check that ran down his jawline.
Warm light and sounds could be heard from inside Hogs Head Inn as Alastor Moody makes his way inside. Squinting his eyes, he ignores the smoke-filled clouds as he scans the pub to not find who he was meeting with. Not having found who he was searching for, Alastor makes his way to the bar.
The owner/bartender with long, stringy, wiry gray hair and beard to his chest nods his head at him. ”What will it be, Moody?” Aberforth Dumbledore asked as his blue eyes stared at him from behind his spectacles.
”Just a pint of butterbeer,” Alastor confessed. ”I'm meeting someone, and I need to have a clear head.”
”Very well,” Aberforth grunted, before turning his back and reaching for the butterbeer barrel. A minute later, the tankard was filled to the brim, before being placed in front of Alastor Moody. Alastor tentatively sniffs at the odor of the drink and studies the color of the butterbeer. ”It's not poisoned, Moody!” Aberforth crossly snapped as Alastor sheepishly gave him a glance.
”Sorry, Aberforth,” Alastor said, before taking a sip of the nice butterbeer.
The door behind them slams open in the wind causing Aberforth to glance up and meet the same blue colored eyes as his own. Aberforth makes a stormy face as he glances down at Moody and in a cold voice said, ”Your friend is here.” Before purposefully turning his back to them and busying himself with items behind the counter.
A measure of guilt and pain flashed through the blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, before swiftly vanishing. The long, silvery haired, bearded wizard in dark blue robes that sweep the dirty floor makes his way to an empty booth in the corner. The tip of his wet, buckled high heeled boots peek out from under his robes. His normally sparking childlike blue eyes are rather grave behind his half-moon spectacles that hang on a long, crooked nose, that had been broken at least twice. One of which had been done by the bartender across the bar, Aberforth.
Alastor Moody quickly joins Dumbledore at the booth as Alastor subtly points his wand at the table and says, ”Muffalito.”
Dumbledore blinks and says, ”And what is that spell, Moody?”
”It causes anyone trying to listen in to only hear a buzzing sound,” Alastor said with a great deal of satisfaction.
”That is a rather brilliant spell, Moody,” Dumbledore said in astonishment. ”Who came up with the spell? Was it another member of the Auror's?”
”Now t'was Severus Prince, Professor,” Alastor instantly replied, before recalling that the creator was still a child and student at Hogwarts.
Dumbledore blinks in surprise at recognizing the name of one of his students. But before he can ask, Moody instantly replies, ”I saw the boy perform the spell, while at St. Mungo's.”
”St. Mungo's?”
”Yes, his sister, Rowan Prince had been hospitalized having been cursed with an unknown poison or dark curse.”