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Chapter 266 - Chapter 266: Constant Vigilance

"Peter Pettigrew, little runt that he was, facing down a Death Eater like Sirius Black all by himself. The explosion from that fight killed twelve Muggles. He held Black off with his life. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"They say all they found of him was a single finger. If he hadn't thrown himself in the way, who knows how many more would've died…"

"That filthy Sirius Black. Soon as Alice and I are cleared to come back on duty, we're dragging him in ourselves and feeding him to the Dementors' Kiss!"

Melvin shook his head slightly as he passed the excited cluster of Aurors. Tonight was going to be one of those sleepless nights. The party had drawn wizards from every corner of the Ministry; even retired Aurors had shown up. Ever since Voldemort had started poking his head out again two years ago, a dark cloud had hung over everyone. Black's escape from Azkaban had only made the panic worse. But Frank and Alice Longbottom waking up after all these years? That had knocked the wind out of the Death Eaters' sails and lifted the whole wizarding world's spirits.

People trusted the Longbottoms. They were sure it wouldn't be long before Black was caught and things went back to the peaceful magical Britain everyone remembered.

Melvin didn't mind the noise. The truth about what really happened in Godric's Hollow that night, the grudges that stretched across generations; this whole farce still had a few acts left before the curtain finally came up. He was just looking forward to the show.

He grabbed a glass of red wine, raised it toward Principal Sprout and Madam Bones in greeting, then settled into a quiet corner for a minute. While he swirled the glass, he caught a reflection in it: the curtains by the window were bulging slightly. Someone who wanted nothing to do with the crowd was hiding back there—an old Auror who'd seen too much.

In the shadowed nook by the tall windows, a hunched figure leaned on a walking stick behind the curtain, staring out into the night. Dry, snow-white hair spilled over his shoulders.

He ignored the party drinks and unscrewed a curved hip flask from his boot, taking a long pull.

The curtain twitched aside just enough for the candlelight to reveal a black patch strapped over one eye and a face crisscrossed with brutal scars.

"Everyone else is gonna get plastered, climb into driverless carriages, and fly half-drunk across Britain at a few hundred feet," the gravelly voice rasped. "One ambush by something hiding in the clouds and they won't even leave enough for a decent funeral."

He turned his one good eye on Melvin. "Don't mix with that lot, kid."

"It's a celebration for old friends getting better," Melvin said with an easy smile, sipping his wine. "I seem to remember you worked with them, Mr. Moody."

The curtain was yanked fully open now, the dim light exposing the ruined face: missing eye, nose nearly cleaved in two, right pant leg pinned up beneath a wooden prosthetic.

"This eye?" Mad-Eye Moody jabbed a finger at the patch. "Lost it rushing to help an injured partner—got stabbed with his own broken wand by a dark wizard. The nose? Ignored a seemingly defenseless little girl with no wand. She smashed it with a poisoned horn. Leg came off courtesy of a Death Eater's Reductor Curse."

The retired Auror rattled off the injuries in a flat, almost bored tone, then suddenly roared, "And the one thing all that taught me is: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Half the room turned at the shout, spotted Moody, and immediately pretended they hadn't heard anything.

A bright, bouncy voice cut through the awkwardness. "Sorry, sorry, coming through!"

A young witch with bubblegum-pink curls bouncing like springs jogged over, already blowing a bubble with the gum in her mouth. She waved, apologized to nearby guests, and planted herself next to Moody with practiced ease.

"Tonks," Melvin said, reaching out to shake her hand.

"This is Alastor Moody," she explained, jerking a thumb at the old Auror. "Legendary senior Auror. Been training the new recruits and hit wizards the last couple years, but he's… getting on a bit." She tapped her temple meaningfully.

"I'm vigilant!" Moody barked, flask sloshing as he gestured. "My Sneakoscope's been screaming about plots and malice for weeks!"

"Frank and Alice got lazy the minute they had a kid," he growled. "Forgot every rule we drilled into them. That's how Bellatrix got the drop on them. You don't learn the lesson, you end up like that."

To anyone else he just looked like a drunk, paranoid old man muttering nonsense.

A little ways off, Remus Lupin kept glancing over. Melvin noticed Remus's eyes lingering on Tonks's bright pink hair before flicking away like he'd been burned. He straightened his collar to hide the faint rental tag on the secondhand dress robes, fingers tightening around his glass.

"Come on, you're retired," Tonks muttered, trying to shush Moody. "Nobody's coming after you. And maybe don't yell about conspiracies at a party celebrating two people waking up from thirteen years of insanity?"

Moody's scowl deepened.

"I think Mr. Moody has a point," Melvin said smoothly, breaking the tension. "Voldemort's soul fragment is still missing, Death Eaters are on the run, and we've got a whole new crop of dark wizards these past few years. The wizarding world really does need constant vigilance right now."

A terrifying grin split Moody's scarred face.

"We just hired a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts," Melvin continued. "Great with magical creatures, but maybe a little green when it comes to dark wizards. I'd love for you two to sit down with him—talk school security, maybe some age-appropriate safety lessons for the students."

Tonks and Moody both looked a little lost, so Melvin waved across the room. "Remus! Over here a second."

Remus blinked. "…Huh?"

The crystal chandeliers spun slowly overhead, casting shifting shadows across the round hall. The party settled back into its normal rhythm—glasses clinking, laughter rising. But a few guests kept shooting dark looks at the little group of two Aurors and two professors now huddled together.

"Dumbledore's lackeys, the lot of them," hissed a squat witch in a garish pink dress, voice syrupy-sweet and venomous at the same time.

Cornelius Fudge smoothed his waistcoat over his belly and gave a fake little chuckle. "Now, now, Dolores. The Aurors are the backbone of the Ministry. I have complete faith in their loyalty."

"Of course, only a minister as magnanimous as you could say so," Dolores Umbridge cooed, fetching Fudge a whiskey with a simpering smile.

Over by the buffet, Ludo Bagman from the Department of Magical Games and Sports shuddered at that saccharine voice and downed half his mulled wine in one go.

He sighed, shook his head, and turned to the man beside him. "Let's grab a seat somewhere quieter, Barty. We still need to nail down next year's Quidditch World Cup final. Dartmoor, right?"

"Dartmoor Moor," Barty Crouch replied curtly, black dress robes perfectly pressed.

"That's Muggle territory."

"Decision of the organizing committee."

"…Right."

The two men headed for the corridor. Just before disappearing through the doors, Crouch glanced back at the little cluster—Moody, Tonks, Lupin, and the young professor.

Moody had been sniffing around Bertha Jorkins lately, and after the Longbottoms woke up, he'd started muttering about holes in people's memories. The old Auror was getting dangerously close to noticing something inside the Ministry itself.

Good thing suspicion hadn't landed on him yet.

Crouch started to turn away—then froze.

The young professor had looked straight at him, lips curving into a polite, almost gentle smile.

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