The auror grumbled with a mixture of suspicion and humor. "He seems too innocent and casual to me."
"How so?"
Rolling his eyes, Moody tore a piece off the loaf of bread on his plate. "All the people who stuck around to watch the fight agreed that Ashworth demonstrated remarkable skill in dealing with not one, but both groups and then ultimately ending the fight. When I talked to Ashworth, he passed it off as nothing."
"And you have a problem with that?" Dumbledore smiled briefly at his friend's irritation.
"I don't care who these hooligans are, but anyone who can take on two dozen of them and come out standing and without a scratch is someone who's got more than just a little skill and luck."
Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought. "So, what do you make of him?"
"If he's who he says he is, then he's a naïve idiot. If he isn't, then whoever taught him is good… damn good." Moody eyed the headmaster warily. "So, how do you know him?"
"I met him a few days ago," Dumbledore said vaguely. "I saw him in the company of Miss Black. She was about to get into a fight with young Mr. Potter when Mr. Ashworth - rather skillfully - disarmed both of them. He had some very interesting things to say about his opinions of the Hogwarts houses, but I think that's for another time."
"He said he's looking for a job."
"Yes, he did mention that to me. I thought it was rather odd that a young man such as he would wander to England without any firm plans."
"He's been almost bloody everywhere. Born in Australia, but his passport reads like a travel magazine. He's been to half a dozen countries at, mostly during his childhood."
"Restless parents, I suppose," Dumbledore mused, studying the wine goblet in his hands. "It certainly explains why he doesn't have any accent to speak of. And if he is so well travelled, perhaps his behavior isn't all that strange."
Moody snorted. "For some reason, he doesn't strike me as a rich kid getting his rocks off by travelling around."
"No?" the headmaster asked curiously. "What makes you think that?"
"Like I said, anyone who can take on a dozen people is someone I'd be looking out for. That takes more than just power or talent. It takes a grasp of tactics not many have these days. Also, he allegedly banished one entire group of them into the other group twenty yards away."
"I see," Dumbledore said. "Do you think he's especially skilled at fighting?"
"I don't know," Moody answered thoughtfully. "He didn't exactly seem like a fighter, considering his borderline frail stature and build. On the other hand, there's his skill and experience, so I wouldn't want to make the mistake of underestimating him in a fight."
"I see."
There was a brief silence, which was eventually broken by the auror. "I have a theory."
"Oh?"
"We have a lot of tensions going on, between purebloods and Muggle-supporters. A lot of hostilities towards Muggleborn, too. And then there's always those crazy bastards who think we should take over the Muggle world," Moody began.
"Go on," Dumbledore encouraged, leaning forward in interest.
"Of late, we've had a lot of these disputes escalate into some serious vandalism and violence. Groups of untrained or unskilled thugs fighting each other. Then all of a sudden, this well travelled, smooth talking, and magically skilled wizard shows up in the middle of a fight. What do you make of that?"
"You're thinking the pureblood families are bringing in outside help?"
"The purebloods, the other side, whoever. He had to come from somewhere ."
Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled merrily and he smiled. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Ashworth is, in fact, a hired gun?"
"A hired what?"
"Never mind," Dumbledore said. "It's a Muggle thing. I think we'll just give Mr. Ashworth the benefit of the doubt for now."
"If you say so," Moody muttered, finishing his dinner.
They lingered together for a little while more before Moody called it a night, commenting that he had to be in the office at a fairly early hour the next morning to process all the people they had arrested earlier and arrange their hearings. As Moody opened the door to exit the pub after wrapping himself in his cloak, Dumbledore called after him.
"About Ashworth. Did you happen to see any Blacks nearby when you encountered him? Perhaps one of the people fighting?"
Moody gave Dumbledore a strange look. "No, I didn't see any Blacks anywhere, though there were folks who talk to the Blacks. You don't suppose the Blacks were involved in this, do you?" The auror clearly didn't believe the Blacks would involve themselves in that kind of action. They were still wealthy enough to be able to hire people to do that for them, and even if, they would have gone after a more high-profile target, and certainly with much more skill, grace, and stealth than two groups of younglings trading spells in a crowded street.
"No, no," Dumbledore answered quickly. "I was just wondering."
.....
On Christmas morning, the day after his encounter with the pureblood delinquents and Alastor Moody, Harry was woken by someone persistently jabbing his chest.
"Wake up, Ashworth."
Harry reluctantly opened his eyes, slowly blinking at the sudden brightness in his room. His good mood from a restful sleep suddenly evaporated when he realized who was staring down at him. Bellatrix Black, violet eyes framed by long dark hair, was straddling him on his bed and looking down at him. He didn't think she fully realized what she was doing, but quickly shook the cobwebs from his head.
He wondered which deities he had managed to offend in this - or a previous - life that would ultimately lead to him being woken up on a Christmas morning by Bellatrix. No one deserved that - not even the Dursleys. It was right up there at the top of his list of things-that-he-never-wanted-to-happen-to-him, right after being woken up by Crucio .
"Go away," he muttered, trying to turn around and bury his head under his pillow.
"I love you too," Bellatrix retorted with a mischievous grin as she pulled the pillow away and slid off the bed.
"Gimme that," he said, reaching out blindly for the pillow she was holding in her hands. He was glad she'd gotten off the bed right then, before she'd found something between her thighs that he didn't exactly want her to. Waking up with an - admittedly beautiful -seventeen year old girl in his bed wasn't something he'd ever gotten used to.
"Come get it, Ashworth!"
....
Join my P@treon and get 60+ advanced chapters.
Link: p*atreon.com/0LordSilvere0 (Remove the *)
Free members get 2 chapters free.
Join Right Now