Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 67: Impostor
Moody was practically huffing and puffing by the time he reached his private office.
He went inside, locked the door, and placed a couple of security charms just in case, before doing the same on the only window of the room.
Pulling back the chair of his desk, he sat down, grabbed some nearby utensils, and started to write.
The quiver shivered slightly in his hand, forcing him to stop and try to calm himself before continuing.
He still had a hard time believing what he had seen during the task. Others may not have been able to understand, but someone with his magical skill was certainly able to see past the innocent façade of Harry Potter's display.
"He needs to know… this…" This changed things. Their target was not the naive young wizard they had presumed he would be.
A boy who would be easy to manipulate in the right direction and then capture, so they could use his flesh and blood as materials for the Dark Lord's resurrection.
"It's not going to work… It will never work. Not against h—urrgg!" Moody groaned.
Due to the shock, he had forgotten to take his dose of potion.
He opened the flask hanging from his neck and took a long sip, only to realize in horror that he had exhausted its contents.
"Shit! Not now!" Moody protested. This was a terrible time to run out of his precious supply.
He stood up and walked to one of the bookshelves, took one seemingly random book from it, and opened it up.
The pages had been carved away to create an opening, and hidden inside was a flask, just like the one hanging from his neck.
Moody took it and opened it up. "Fuck!… right…" He had just remembered that he had also used this one. "I'm all out."
With no other choice, he went to the wardrobe and moved it aside so he could grab the briefcase he had concealed behind it.
The letter would have to wait. Making sure that he had a steady supply of his potion was more important.
All he needed now was some freshly plucked hair.
Moody brought the briefcase to the bed and used his wand to unlock it.
His eye scanned the interior and found his prisoner lying on the ground; he appeared to be fast asleep. At least, that was what he hoped.
"You are not dead yet, aren't you?" Moody asked.
The hair had to be fresh for the potion. This was the only reason for him to keep this person alive. If he died… that would be a serious problem.
"Wake up already!" Losing his cool, Moody aimed his wand at his prisoner and shot a stinging jinx.
"Urggg!" The man trapped inside the briefcase let out a painful grunt and turned his head to look up.
"Ah, there you are. Good afternoon, Mister Auror." Moody had a cruel smirk on his face. He always enjoyed this part, at least. "I'm sorry, I think I forgot to feed you this week. You look very pale."
The prisoner glared at him with his only eye, and despite his poor state, he was able to convey his hatred very clearly.
"Now, let's not make this more difficult than it's supposed to be." Moody carefully aimed his wand. "I would even let you pluck the hairs yourself, unless you want me t—"
Moody froze suddenly as he felt something passing above his head. He turned around, his magical eye shifting constantly.
Unfortunately for him, the eye was only there for show and was not actually connected to his body. That would have required him to be missing his real eye.
Right now, Moody's magical eye would have been of much help.
"Homenum Revelio!" He used the revealing charm to show anyone who could be hiding in his office.
But the spell ended up revealing nothing. Still, he was sure that someone else was here.
He could feel them and could even smell a hint of perfume in the air.
"Show yourself!"
His eyes went to the window and door, making sure they were still locked… and they were. No one had entered or left the room, meaning that the intruder was already inside when he walked in.
A subtle sound in the corner made him go on full alert. A curse immediately flew from his wand and ended up shattering his only mirror.
"How interesting… You were an impostor all along."
Moody heard a female voice coming from the other side of the room, where his bed was placed.
"Ahh!" Another curse flew that way and impacted the outer wall, creating a deep crack.
"You can destroy your room and still not find me."
The voice was now coming from all directions at the same time, greatly confusing him.
"But I am curious. If you are not Alastor Moody, then… who are you really?"
"That voice…" The impostor narrowed his eyes. He had heard this sweet female voice very recently. It took him a moment to place it. "You are… that Slytherin girl! The one with Potter!"
He had a bad feeling from the moment he saw that student. His instincts had been warning him that she was not what she pretended to be, and that she was dangerous.
"You are not a student… who are you?! Show yourself already!"
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