Corrupted Souls | remus lupin

search and rescue

Alastor Moody's patronus was very busy on the night of August 15th, 1978. It traveled from a shoddy apartment in Ilkley to the Potter Manor in Caithness to Holyhead to Mould-on-the-Wold to the Leaky Cauldron. He was in striped pajamas and had a glass of firewhisky in his hand as those he had beckoned began to appear, the green flashes from the fireplace illuminating the dimly lit space. 

"I was just about to go to sleep," Sirius complained as he stumbled into the room, taking a cautious look around him. "This your place?"

"Today it is, but who knows what tomorrow will bring." Moody quipped, but upon seeing the confused look on Sirius's face he rolled his eyes and added: "I move around quite a lot. Comes with the territory of bein' an auror."

"Ah." Sirius nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Dorcas was next, wearing a cross expression at the spontaneity of the meeting. Kingsley followed, still dressed from work, and Neoma was the last to arrive, her hair tied back into messy braids. 

"Look alive, people!" Moody smirked, gesturing to the frayed couch in front of him. "Sit."

The four young adults just barely managed to squeeze themselves onto the creaky piece of furniture. Sirius wiggled a finger between Neoma's ribs, to which she stifled a laugh and shot him a withering glare.

"Five Gringotts employees disappeared two days ago and you sorry lot are going to find them."

"Tonight?" Kingsley asked nervously, feeling absolutely knackered after his twelve hour work day.

"Clearly." Moody kicked his feet onto a chipped coffee table. "Perk up, Kingsley. All you did was paperwork today. This is where the real fun begins."

"Can't it begin in the morning -"

"Hey!" Moody barked, complete sincerity overtaking his lighthearted demeanour in the blink of an eye. "It only gets worse from here." He scanned the group before him, who were all sitting a bit straighter at his outburst. "So if you're that inconvenienced by a mission to save some Goblins, fuck off."

A nervous silence was all he received as a reply, to which he sat back in satisfaction. 

"...So do you have any idea on where they are?" Dorcas asked, drawing her brows together. 

"I do." Moody offered no further reply, his eyes turning to Neoma, silently challenging her. 

She had spent enough time with him by this point to know what this look meant. It meant that he expected an answer; he suspected that she knew something, whether she was aware of it or not. Tonight was one of those 'or not' days, and as their staring match continued, the others shifted their attention toward her, as well. 

She wracked her brain for anything she knew about goblins. She was coming up short. She had a vault at Gringotts, of course ... one of her very own now that she was estranged from her father. Every couple of weeks a sum of money would unexpectedly add itself to her collection, but it didn't take a genius to understand whose doing that was. 

Under the pressure of the silence and the staring, Neoma desperately reached toward memories she had long forgotten - memories of little importance. She saw a goblin once in Knockturn Alley, looking at some fine silks. That hardly seemed relevant. Another time - also in Knockturn Alley - a goblin tried to sell her a pouch of something. She was only eight, though, and her father turned the hobbling creature away sternly.

In 1975 - or '76, perhaps - there was something regarding the Goblin Liason Office...

"...Pontius Lestrange?" Neoma tilted her head questioningly, observing Moody's expression to see if she was right.