Alastor Moody’s alarm clock woke him each morning with gentle classical music because anything else was simply impractical. Anything emitting loud, sudden noises was liable to be hexed on reflex, and a singer’s crooning or the inane chatter of radio hosts caused him great confusion as he’d sit bolt upright at the sound of a voice, utterly convinced that he was not alone. Thus, Albus’ gift of an alarm clock that played a soothing harp to awaken him slowly was a treasured possession.

He sat up and allowed himself a few moments of peaceful contemplation of the music before getting out of bed. He winced a little as his carved claw of a foot clattered down to the floorboards. Pride had prevented him from buying a rug to muffle the sound, and every morning he half-hoped to feel the wood under both feet. Disappointed as usual, he went through the motions of the morning: press the magical eye into its socket; dress; make breakfast. He was just salting his porridge and settling down to eat, wand on the table near his hand, when green light flooded the kitchen.

“Moody?�

Alastor picked up his wand and got up from his chair with a grimace, squeezing between the table and the sink to reach the fireplace.

“Scrimgeour.� He nodded at his boss. “Is there a problem?� He already knew the answer; Alastor was only required in the office three days a week, and today was not one of them.

“Not as such,� said Scrimgeour. “But you’re needed today. Proudfoot’s taken the morning off to take his daughter to St Mungo’s, and I can’t spare anyone to take the trainees.�

Alastor paused for a moment, a little surprised. It had been years since he’d taken a group of Aurors-in-Training. His days of active service were all but over, as decades of injuries had begun to catch up with him. For over a year he hadn’t been assigned anything more strenuous than strategizing missions for other, fitter, younger Aurors to carry out.

“You must be desperate.� Alastor hoped that he was imagining the accusatory tone in his voice. “How many?�

“Eight; six wizards and two witches, all in the first year of training. We started with ten.�

“Eight’s still a big group. Do you expect them all to make the cut?�

“You tell me,� Scrimgeor smiled wryly. “I dare say you don’t need any encouragement to give me your opinion on them.�

Moody’s lips curved upwards. “I’ll be in within the half hour, sir.�

“Good. You know what to do with them; the training schedule hasn’t changed at all. And I’ll ensure a note is made of your over-time. Thank you, Moody.�

Moody returned to his now–cooled porridge with considerably more gusto than when he’d first sat down. Sunlight was trickling in through the single window, bouncing off the sink below and brightening the cramped kitchen, most of which was filled by an over-sized, slightly battered dining table. Alastor had never been one for cooking, and though the kitchen was arguably lacking in size, the ample space of the adjacent office more than made up for it.

When he’d finished, he carried his bowl to the sink and withdrew his hip flask, filling it with water, something he could drink without fear of its being tainted. With a wave of his wand, a sponge began the task of washing-up; another flick and his travelling cloak and staff flew from the hall to his waiting hands. As he fastened his cloak, he was dismayed at how unsteady his hands were.

The tremors were not a regular occurrence. Just every once in a while, his fingers would slip on a catch or his hand would clench suddenly, painfully, into a fist. As slight as the tremors were, he was sure Scrimgeour knew, had seen somehow, and that this was another of the reasons Alastor was being slowly side-lined, with an honourable and well-earned retirement surely on the horizon.

Alastor flexed his fingers repeatedly as he stowed his wand in his robes; they were still in good working order, and surely they would remain so for a little longer. He allowed himself a crooked half-smile, before taking a pinch of powder and dropping it into the fireplace.

“Atrium, Ministry of Magic.�

The flames engulfed him, sent him spinning wildly. He closed his eyes, though he may as well have left them open: his magical eye still spun double-time, trying to keep track of every snapshot in the grates he passed.

He arrived in the near-deserted Atrium and took his time exiting the fireplace, grateful for the solid floor. It always took him a few seconds to adjust after a Floo journey, for his eye needed time to settle.

At the far end of the Atrium, near the Fountain of Magical Brethren, a handful of people stood huddled, wearing the burgundy-trimmed black robes of Aurors-in-Training. Apparently Moody was late, if they were all waiting for him already, and he started towards them, magical eye training itself on each face. He noted the fear flicker across their faces as he advanced, clunking on alternative steps, staring at them with garishly mismatched eyes. Good, he thought. A half-smile crept across his face, and the expressions of nervousness became more pronounced. They need to know, to understand that this could be them someday… And to realise that some poor bastards are in a far worse state than I a-

There was a clattering behind him, and a high, excited cry. Alastor spun, taking advantage of his smooth wooden heel to pivot on the shining floor, wand in hand.

Expelliarmus! Depulso!

Alastor had the vague impression of a pair of figures flying backwards. His magical eye hastened to focus on them as they landed, their wands clattering to the ground where they had apparently been standing some ten feet behind Moody. He recognised the robes; his magical eye quickly turned to the group of Trainees and counted: five wizards and a witch.

It was not how Alastor would have chosen to introduce himself to his new students.

“Accio wands,� he muttered as he hurried towards them, foot clanging ridiculously. He heard the rest of the Trainees follow him down the Atrium at a respectable distance.

The pair had been flung about twenty feet into the wall at the far end of the Atrium. One of them, a particularly baby-faced boy, was already clambering to his feet, leaving the remaining female Trainee on the ground. As far as Alastor could tell, he’d been in front of her when the spell had hit, and thus had had a human shield between himself and the wall.

“All right, laddie?� Alastor tossed him the wands, before turning to the witch still sprawled on the floor. He found himself momentarily distracted by the shock of short, spiky, wickedly bright blue hair. He shook his head slightly and knelt next to her.

She’d apparently slid down the wall and come to rest on her back. Her ID badge (bearing the name “Nymphadora Tonks�) was pinned on lop-sidedly. Her eyes were closed, but she was stirring, her right hand clenching and unclenching.

“Rennervate!�

Nymphadora Tonk’s eyes fluttered for a second, and then she sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning the floor around her.

“Where’s my wand?� She winced as she spoke, pressing her hand to her forehead.

“You all right?� Alastor felt a pang of guilt as he watched her carefully for signs of disorientation or confusion. She was now looking up at him in a quite disconcerting manner, as though she were cataloguing his face.

A stifled laugh behind him caught his attention, and his magical eye rotated to watch the group. He hadn’t heard exactly what the source of the hilarity was, but apparently Tonks had. She was scrambling to her feet, glaring at a tall wizard in the group of Trainees. “Say that again, Richards.� There was an angry edge to her voice, and the spluttered laughing intensified.

“That’s enough,� snapped Alastor. Tonks was looking thunderous. “We’re late starting as it is.� Alastor thought he heard someone muttering, but ignored it. “Auror Proudfoot is unavailable this morning, so I will be taking you for training. For those of you who don’t know, I’m Auror Moody.� The group had all shifted to stand in front of Alastor; whether out of courtesy, or because they found his talking to them through the back of his own head disconcerting, Alastor didn’t know or care. He took a very quick inventory: Richards (dark and handsome); Davies (tall and bespectacled); Mitchell (baby-faced and blushing); Jenson (toothy and rosy-cheeked); Cardell (blond and freckled); Fitzpatrick (red-headed and serious); Greene (the other witch, pale and fidgety); and Tonks (with that unmissable hair and dark, twinkling eyes).

“At this stage, you should have had your first round of training scenarios, and then some basic training, correct?� Fitzpatrick, Greene and Jenson nodded. “Well, now we start another round of training scenarios to see how much you’ve taken in. You will go downstairs to Classroom C, and prepare yourselves. What are you all waiting for?� he barked when they didn’t immediately follow instruction.

Classroom C of the Auror Training Division was on Level Two, and the Trainees fanned out in front of the chalkboard, silent and attentive, awaiting Alastor’s address. He surveyed them for a moment; focussed and willing to learn, the room of potential took him back to his own early days… Mentally he shook himself; Aurors were busy people, and time to spend reminiscing was not a luxury they could afford. If these kids were to have any chance of qualifying, let alone reaching his age in a profession that frequently claimed the young, the inexperienced, the unprepared and the complacent, then the lessons could not be delayed.

“I want you in pairs, alphabetically. You have five minutes to disguise yourself as best you can, then we’ll take a Portkey to a Muggle street and you will take it in turns trailing each other, one trying to shake the other off. You shouldn’t have any questions at this point, so your five minutes start now.�

Alastor scooped up a range of objects from around the classroom and began preparing the Portkeys, his magical eye roving about the students, watching them prepare. He found himself oddly drawn to Nymphadora Tonks, whose hair was now an inconspicuous beige; though his eye kept flicking towards her, he must have been looking the other way when she’d Transfigured herself.

The morning did not drag on as Alastor had been expecting it to. He and one pair of prepared Trainees at a time took a Portkey to a specially charmed alleyway in central London, just a few minutes’ walk from a busy shopping centre. Then, with his magical eye (concealed under a bowler hat) trained on them at all times, one trainee would attempt to follow the other through the crowd inside the centre, while the other attempted to lose them. Magic could be used, provided they were not obvious about it. Indeed, there was a terrible moment when Mitchell, facing a shop-window, withdrew his wand and Transfigured his nose just as a gaggle of teenage girls (shirt-sleeves rolled up and ties shoved in pockets in a weak attempt to conceal their school uniforms) swarmed past him. Luckily they were engaged enough in chatter and laughter that they did not see Mitchell’s nose swell alarmingly, though this did not stop Mitchell being caught by Jenson with a triumphant smile after twenty-two minutes of cat-and-mouse. Still, it had been too close.

Although Aurors did not have a designated lunch-break (having to grab food as and when they had the time), Trainees were allowed a twenty minute break at the discretion of their instructor, and Alastor decided that once the last pair had gone through they would stop, have a rest, and then begin a new exercise after lunch.

Richards, his dark hair now blond and wavy, was snaking his way through the shoppers, pausing every now and then to feign interest in a window. Alastor noted that he was quite adept at making a purposeful stride appear nonchalant. Tonks, however, was keeping him on his toes. In fact, Alastor was quite sure she was trying to herd him into a shop, from which he could not magically escape without drawing attention. It was a clever strategy, and it would likely have worked had Tonks not tripped spectacularly over her own foot. To her credit, she got straight back up and had Richards cornered successfully with six minutes to spare, but too many people had seen her fall, she’d attracted too much attention.

When it was her turn to evade capture, Tonks disappeared into the crowd with a slightly smug smile; by contrast, Richards’ jaw was set in an unpleasant sort of grimace. Alastor followed her with his magical eye for a few minutes, watching her stride confidently into a shop. Richards hovered at the door, peering determinedly at every woman leaving, but couldn’t seem to identify the witch. The minutes passed, and Alastor, to his alarm, couldn’t spot her either. It was as though she’d vanished completely.

Alastor was just thinking that he’d have to praise Tonks for good use of a Disillusionment Charm when there was a clatter, and an elderly woman tripped over the foot of a rail of scarves and went flying. Richards gave a triumphant cry and darted forwards, grabbing the woman’s forearm before she’d even half lifted herself off the floor. Alastor blinked. From the woman’s expression of disappointment, he knew it was Tonks, but how she’d pulled off that disguise was beyond him. As Richards led a huffing Tonks back to him, ready to get a Portkey back to Classroom C, Alastor ran an appraising eye over her; if she had resisted Richards in any way, he would have thought Richard had the wrong person. Her hair was silver, her chin had rounded, her previously smooth skin was wrinkled, she’d gained a good three stone, and she was carrying herself quite differently, walking with a slightly shuffling gait.

“Cut it out, Tonks,� Richards hissed.

She scowled back at him. “I’ve got to practice. What’s the point in being able to look like anyone if you can’t be convincing with it?�

Richards opened his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Alastor cut him off. “Come on, outside.�

They left the shopping centre and were back in Classroom C within five minutes. Alastor waved his wand and plates of sandwiches and fruit, and a jug of water, appeared on one of the desks. “You can take your lunch in here; I want to crack on as soon as possible when you’re all finished.� The truth was that Alastor wanted to observe the group a little more. Scrimgeour’s instincts that they would not all make the final grade were likely true, though Alastor couldn’t make a final decision without a little more knowledge.

He had just settled himself down in the comfy chair behind the instructor’s desk when Tonks, still with the appearance of an old woman, appeared in front him. “Can I have a word, please, sir?� She didn’t wait for permission to continue. “It’s just that I wanted to apologise for earlier. I was late in, and I saw Mitchell was late too, and, well it is April Fool’s… I just pounced on him and shouted “boo!� I didn’t even see you.� She flapped her hands uselessly, her garbled apology running out of steam. “I’m sorry.�

“Apology accepted,� said Alastor. “But consider it a lesson. When you enter a room, don’t make any movements until you know exactly who’s in it. Constant vigilance, Tonks. Never overlook the man in the corner.� He felt a phantom twinge in his left leg, and shut his eyes a moment. Although it had been years since he’d lost his leg, he was still occasionally bothered by aches and pains in flesh that he simply no longer had. Tonks was watching him when he opened his eyes, looking concerned.

“Are you OK?� she asked.

The sincerity in her voice irritated Alastor. Must everyone treat him like he was past it?

But before he could respond, there was a lull in conversation amongst the rest of the group and Richards’ voice rang out clearly. “Third time today she’s ended up on her back!� There was the same scattered, stifled laughter Alastor had heard in the Atrium. Tonks’ face was a fantastic shade of scarlet. “And now she’s chatting up the teacher, gone for an appearance his age and everything. Well, I suppose we know how she got into the programme now, remember her Stealth aptitude test? Ridiculous-�

“Shut it, Richards!� Tonks had stormed across the room; perhaps she was more graceful in her anger, as she’d managed to avoid tripping over the chairs. “I got in because I’m bloody good at what I do-�

“Oh, yeah, and what exactly do you do?� Richards had stood up now, and he towered over her. “Nothing, except fall over your own shoelaces!�

Tonks’ face screwed up painfully, and Alastor thought for a second she was incandescent with rage. But then he saw her face shifting smoothly back to the pretty witch he’d attacked that morning, her hair now a violent orange bob. “Oh, and you can do that, which is hardly fair on the rest of us who actually have to work to get results!�

“What, so I shouldn’t use the talents I’ve got? You just don’t want anyone to be better than you!� Tonks now looked as if she’d fallen asleep outside on a sunny day, her face was so red.

“So what if I want to be the best? I actually work hard for this, I deserve it, and you swan in with a million faces and make me look ba-�

For the second time that day, Alastor interrupted. “Richards, if there’s one thing an Auror can’t afford to have, it’s an ego. If you think you’re the best, you get too comfortable, and that’s when they get you. Tonks has a gift, and she’d do well to use it sparingly. Relying on one skill makes you predictable and a predictable Auror is a dead one.� He eyed them sternly.

Richards was examining his shoes, and the colour was slowly draining from Tonks’ face; the rest of the group shifted uncomfortably. They all seemed to be waiting for more pearls of wisdom, and Alastor felt a flicker of annoyance. Proudfoot should have taught them all this, should have instilled in them that this was not a profession for the proud and that if your hands weren’t dirty when you got home, you hadn’t really done a day’s work.

It was at that moment that Sebastian Proudfoot entered, his own black robes trimmed with gold: the uniform of the Auror. “Ah, Moody, thanks for taking them this morning. I hope they didn’t give you any trouble?�
Proudfoot smiled cheerily at Alastor, who felt like giving the other Auror a piece of his mind. As far as Alastor was concerned, Proudfoot had failed his students.

But Alastor held his tongue. After all, who would have taken them instead? It wasn’t as though he had anything to really offer these students, not anymore. He was past his prime, he reminded himself, and they needed someone sprightly and alert. “No, they’re a good lot. All of them managed to catch their partner within thirty minutes but none of them could shake their partner off. You’d do well to practice that.� He inclined his head at the class, and when he received a few tentative smiles back, he felt a kind of pride that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You all take care now, and remember, constant vigilance is the key.� Picking up his staff, he left the room, flicking his wand to shut the door behind hi-

“Argh!�

Alastor swung around. He’d attempted to magically shut the door on Tonks as she followed him out. Blood was dribbling down her chin from both nostrils. Still, she ignored the injury, hurrying towards him while pinching her nose.

“Didn’t see you there,� said Moody gruffly. “Let’s see it.� Moody felt a pang of guilt as she removed her hand with a wince.

“Honestly, don’t worry, I do worse to myself on an hourly basis. Richards was right about that at least.� Tonks gritted her teeth, trying and failing to keep the bitterness from her voice.

“Episkey.�

Tonks’ nose repaired in an instant. She felt it gingerly, her lips silently repeating the incantation.

“I’ll have to remember that one, Merlin knows I need it more than most. Mum always fixed my nose non-verbally. Thanks.� She smiled. It was a brilliant smile, confident and cheerful. “Before you go, I wanted to ask you, what exactly was the spell you used to chuck Mitchell and me into the wall?�
“Depulso,� Alastor supplied.

“Oh… I never thought to use that spell like that,� said Tonks. There was an expression of wonder on her face. “And it’s OK to just... improvise like that? Only Proudfoot’s always made it seem like you can’t put a toe out of line, and I’m in by the skin of my teeth as it is.�

At this, Alastor smiled grimly. “Your toes haven’t been in line all day, Tonks. You might make a good Auror eventually, but you need to learn when to toe the line and when to use your better judgement. Right now, you’re falling off the line whenever there’s an inconvenient bit of furniture, and that’s not good enough.�

For a moment, Tonks simply stared at him. “You aren’t what I expected at all. I reckon you’re the best teacher we’ve had. Proudfoot doesn’t think we’re ready to know anything about what it’s actually like to be fighting Dark wizards.�

Alastor snorted, then gritted his teeth. “Proudfoot wants you to have a solid foundation before moving onto the less pleasant aspects of the job.�

“But you throw us in at the deep end.� Tonks’ lips curved into that fantastic smile again. “You think we haven’t got a hope unless we understand what we’re up against, and the sooner we get it the better.�

Alastor shifted, leaning a little more on his staff. “The sooner you know, the better.�

“I want to know, I need to know.� Tonks’ face was shining with something that Alastor had not seen in it before, a mixture of determination and anger. “Half my family are in Death Eaters. I need to know how to stop people like them, and if You-Know-Who ever comes back-� Her jaw was now set, her eyes blazing. “I want to be hunting him down.�

Alastor blinked. He had not been expecting an outburst like that. Of course, he should have realised that it was time for the children of those who’d fought in the war to be entering Auror training. It would be even more imperative for these kids to truly understand what it was like to fight Dark wizards than it had been for previous groups of Trainees. Their childhoods would have been defined by memories and stories about Voldemort and his followers, and to try to conceal from them the horrors of the world that they had been born into was to do them a disservice.

He looked Nymphadora Tonks (who was now shaking with the release of seven months of bottled-up tension) straight in the eye and said, “Now listen to me. Nothing in that classroom will make you understand those days: you need field experience and you’re not ready for that yet.� Tonks opened her mouth to complain, but Alastor continued, “But we can give you a sense of what you’re facing.�

“Tonks, Proudfoot wants to get started again,� called Greene from the doorway. Tonks jumped, apparently having forgotten that she was meant to be in a lesson.

“Leave it with me,� said Alastor. “I’ll see to it you’re learning what you need.�

Tonks beamed at Alastor. “Thanks Mad-ey- I mean sir! Thanks, sir.� Her face glowed like a bonfire.

In spite of himself, Alastor smiled properly, twisting his lips uncomfortably to bare his teeth. Though he’d acquired the nickname years ago, she was the first person to ever forget herself in his presence and use it to his face: no one had been so relaxed around him in a long time, instead treating him like a legend to be put on a pedestal or a liability to be coped with. “There’s one I haven’t heard before. Now back to your lesson.� And, with her face still a beacon in the dim corridor, Tonks turned and headed back to Classroom C, pausing in the doorway to flash Alastor a quick, grateful smile before vanishing inside.

*

“Ah, Moody, come in.� Rufus Scrimgeour set down his quill and watched the battle-scarred old man limp into the room and take a seat in front of his desk without an invitation. “I’ve recorded you as doing three hours of over-time, is that correct?�

“Yes,� said Moody with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’m here to talk to you about the Trainees.�

“I see.� Scrimgeour withdrew a folder from one of the many stacks of paper-work on his desk and shook out eight pieces of parchment. “Which ones are you concerned about?�

“None of them, yet,� said Moody. “But all of them if Proudfoot keeps going the way he is.�

“I see no problem with Proudfoot’s teaching methods.� Scrimgeour flicked through the sheets of parchment, each containing a Trainee’s name, photograph and personal information.

“Well, I do,� replied Moody, his normal eye fixed firmly on Scrimgeour. “He’s not teaching them properly. None of them appreciates what it really means to be an Auror, and if you’re not careful you’re going to have eight qualified Aurors who can’t think for themselves, work in a team, or be vigilant against attack.�

At these words Scrimgeour put the parchment down and surveyed Moody carefully. The old Auror was gripping his staff rather tightly. Was he having tremors again? “And what do you propose is to be done about these holes in the Auror Training Curriculum?�

“I’d like to take over teaching,� said Moody promptly.

Scrimgeour sighed. “Auror Moody, I don’t think that’s wise.�

“I knew you wouldn’t, which is why I have a proposition for you.� Moody smiled at Scrimgeour, who almost winced at the effect that attempting to smile had on Moody’s mutilated face. “You let me teach full-time for the rest of the year, and I’ll let you put me into retirement. Don’t deny it’s what you’ve wanted for a while now.�

Scrimgeour shifted, trying to avoid looking Moody in the eye. “I won’t deny it’s crossed my mind. You are an exceptional Auror, Moody, an asset to the Department… But surely, at your age and in your condition, a peaceful retirement must appeal to you?�

“Let me teach, and I’ll go quietly, take any pension package you offer. But you and I both know that letting me go without teaching that lot what I know would be a waste.�

Scrimgeour gritted his teeth. Moody was making an attractive offer, and he must have known that, for he was smiling again.

“All right, you have a deal,� said Scrimgeour. He stood and reached across his desk to shake Moody’s hand. “You start full-time first thing tomorrow.�

And as Moody left his office, Scrimgeour was sure he heard the wily old Auror mutter, “Not bloody soon enough.�