❝ FOR FREEDOM.
FOR T R U T H.
AND FOR LOVE. ❞
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍.
1978. Where a squib and a mischief-maker cross
paths at the crux of a war that would eventually
tear apart everything - and everyone - they...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sredoka Reserve, Bulgaria. 5:00 pm
THEY WERE BUT ghosts, gliding through the dense mist that covered the forest floor. The Aurors were all scattered across the forest, all of them clutching their wands, on guard and ready for disaster to rear its ugly head, as they trudged and fought their way through the densely packed trees, rotting moss squelching under their heavy boots as they moved. While most of the Aurors seemed to have lapsed into an uncertain silence, there were some that still whispered to one another — it was the only explanation for the way Gideon Prewett's arms kept flailing as he walked beside Skye Dawlish; he had to be talking to her rather animatedly, perhaps about Quidditch, judging by his enthusiasm. But the sounds of their footfalls and whispered conversations were muffled by a useful charm that Longbottom had had the privilege of casting before the Aurors entered the forest.
To no one's surprise and everyone's disappointment, the forest seemed to go on forever. Though they had left England shortly before daybreak, apparating from point to another as they made their way across the continent, it was still well past midday by the time they had cleared the security points of each country standing between England and Bulgaria and found themselves staring at the edge of the Sredoka reserve, the lush greenery mocking them as they took in the vastness of the forest.
That had been five hours ago.
"Have you given any thought to what I said?" a thin voice asked. Moody whirled around and was not entirely surprised to find that Scrimgeour had fallen into step with him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't expected Scrimgeour to seek him out on this long trek, but surprisingly, it had taken the other man a lot longer than Moody had first thought.
"You say a goddamn load of stuff on a daily basis," growled Moody, keeping his eyes trained at the terrain before him, "You'll have to be more specific."
"Don't insult yourself, Alastor." When Moody did not so much as shrug, Scrimgeour sighed and went on, "Okay, fine. I was talking about my . . . concerns regarding the Auror Office."
"What, that you think we've got a mole in the office?" asked Moody bluntly, "Yeah, I've thought about it."
"And?"
"And I would like to remind you that we've seen plenty of spies and double agents within the MLE for ages now. It's war, Rufus. People switch sides like England changes its weather. It's why no one knows everything anymore. Not you, not me, not McKinnon, no one."
