Marauders - Always - Part One

CLXXI: Ketchup or Tartar?

The Other Moody was back, rubbing the nub of his leg with more of that balm. The real Moody watched from the corner of the floor, his back to the wall, studying the mannerisms of this strange imposter. The Polyjuice was on a very tight schedule and well kept-up-with so that Moody's features never melted away and the Other Moody's true identity stayed secret, hidden. Yet there were moments... when the polyjuice was near it's limit... that Alastor was near to being able to pin point a familiarity. Something would twinge on the edge of his memory and he'd find himself squinting at the fake Moody, trying to draw a recollection out of the depths of his mind.

Not that identifying the imposter would be of much help. After all, Alastor had no hope of getting out of the dungeon space he was locked in. But at least he'd know and when the impostor slipped up... when he at last found a way out... then Alastor would have all he needed to point out the one who'd done it to him.

For now, he'd keep him talking.

So far, Alastor had learned that the Triwizard Tournament names had been drawn as scheduled ahead of the term. Not only had the three champions been selected, but the unprecedented fourth champion had been named as Harry Potter... which was precisely what Albus Dumbledore had been worried about.

Indeed, the tournament had been part of the reason Dumbledore had asked Moody on staff for the term. Igor Karkaroff was settled as the headmaster of Durmstrang Academy and had been since the 70s. However, he'd also been a known follower of You Know Who in the 70s, hadn't he? And Albus had been concerned - with whispers of the Dark Lord circulating, however quietly - he'd worried about having a man with Karkaroff's history at the school unchecked. And so Mad Eye had been called on... and for all anyone on the surface could see, he was there.

Little had Dumbledore known that the one to look out for was no Karkaroff at all, but the very one who was supposed to be keeping an eye on him.

The plan was good, Moody had to admit. Who would ever suspect the Great Mad Eye Moody? Especially when Igor Karkaroff was an easy scape goat to point to?

And whoever would have thought that anyone would think to put the kid's name in under a fourth school to achieve the result of hoodwinking the Goblet of Fire?

"Just got to figure out what the Ministry's got up it's sleeves for 'em..." The Other Moody was muttering to himself.

Form what Moody had gathered, this imposter was a devoted follower of Voldemort in the past, encouraged by the events at the World Cup and the current whispers to make an attempt on the Potter boy's life.

It wouldn't be the first time an ex-death eater would make a pitch at having revenge in the name of their so-called lord. Time couldn't erase the bum-hurt grudges of wronged crazy people, Moody supposed, even if it meant attacking innocent children. More than once over the years Mad Eye had set aurors sentinel over Privet Drive just to keep an eye after a threat had been made. The boy was safe at the house, under the powerful magic that his mother had set, but there were times that wizards trailed the muggles as they went about their daily lives to see to it that Harry was safe.

Suddenly, overhead, there was a loud banging and shouting and the Other Moody looked up, scowling, and he grabbed onto the prosthetic, hurrying to shove it on. He swore and grunted with pain as he staggered up the stair. The prosthetic hurt like hell when it wasn't put on right, Moody knew, and he thought that it served the bastard right for mistreating his limb like that. The imposter nearly fell climbing over the top of the stair and out.

The Other Moody slammed closed the door? Lid? to the dungeon and Alastor was plunged into dark.

"Wotcher, Mad-Eye!" Tonks declared the moment the office door opened.