"I'm telling yeh there was a bleedin' intruder, I'm tellin' yeh - scared'im right off is what I've done... Seen the bastard run right off that'a way." He pointed off across the carpark.

Arthur Weasley looked the way Moody pointed. As if on a cue, a raggedy old cat meandered out from between the stunned rubbish bins, whose trash was regurgitated all over the gravel. The cat stopped to sniff at some of the leftover fish finger grease on a paper plate the bins had spit up and Amos Diggory clapped his hands, "Shoo!" he called at it and the cat sped off, jumping over the brick dividing wall and into the neighbor's yard. "I think that may have been your intruder Alastor..."

Mad-Eye stared after the cat and shook his head, licking his lip, and grunted a curse under his breath as he turned, keen to head inside, but clumsy with his crutch, he nearly fell. Quick with reflexes built raising Fred and George, Arthur caught Moodya and steadied him before he could go down, giving Amos Diggory a quick glance of concern. Mad-Eye reached into his pocket and withdrew a silver flask, taking a slurp, and tucked it away.

"Bit early, inn'it, Al?" Amos asked.

"Be mindin' yer own bad habits, Diggory, instead of tracking after mine," Moody muttered. He thumped away into the house, and Arthur sighed and hurried after him, closely followed by Amos.

Moody grumbled his way through the house, seeming lost for a moment. "Where the devil is that blasted leg?" he hissed, glancing 'round.

"Here it is, Al," caller Arthur, having found the wooden limb leaning against the couch.

"Yes there is is, just where I've left it," Mad-Eye hissed, and he sat himself down heavily.

"Are you alright, Alastor?" Amos asked, running a finger over a dust-coverer shelf.

"Aye I'm fine," the ex-auror grumped.

"I only as in concern, of course," Amos said, "I know its been hard on you, ever since you've left the department."

"Hard on me? Never been better," Mad-Eye grunted. "Perfectly glad to be rid of the place, frankly. Never been better..."

Mad-Eye was fighting with his prosthetic, jerking it this way and that, trying at getting it on. He licked his lips in frustration as he tried at it, cursing quietly under his breath.

"Once I get this blasted leg to attach, I'll be right as rain, the bleedin' thing won't just get on with it... Is is always this bloody difficult?"

Amos raised his brow. "Only when yeh try at screwing it on the wrong way, Al."

"Ferfuckssakes," Moody hissed through his teeth.

"May I help you, Alastor?" asked Mr. Weasley tentatively, reaching for the wooden leg.

"Mmhmph," muttered Mad-Eye, and he relinquished the leg to Mr. Weasley's helping hands, watching as Arthur turned the leg on it's spigot and tucked it 'round the nub of the end of Mad-Eye's knee. The magic eyeball swung about madly, looking every which way in apparent panic, the biggest tell-tale that Moody wasn't feeling himself these days.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory exchanged wary glances and Arthur stood up, having affixed the leg and gotten Mad-Eye situated on the couch. "You know we have to take you in, Alastor," Mr. Weasley sighed.

"I have to get to Hogwarts," muttered Mad-Eye, shaking his head, "Train leaves in just about an hour. I haven't got --" Amos Diggory let out a hoot of laughter and promptly covered his mouth, looking abashed as Mad-Eye glared at him. "And what's so funny, Mr. Diggory?" Mad-Eye grumbled.

"You? On the Hogwarts Express? Are you mad?" Amos said. "Those poor children."

"I've been on the Hogwarts Express before," growled Moody.

Arthur Weasley said, "I think what Amos means is that one might expect you to be more of a floo-network sort of a man. Were you really planning to go on the train?" He paused, chuckle fading away as he saw the unamused expression on Moody's face. Arthur cleared his throat, then, "Come on Alastor, you know we can't just let you off, you're lucky a full inquiry isn't being enacted and we can get you off on just the bins."

Moody grumbled.

"Arthur's right, Al," Amos said, nodding. "You know if Crouch comes on duty and gets wind of this before we get it taken care of you'll be in for it."

"Crouch!" Mad-Eye hissed. Then, "Yes, yes..." he licked his lips, "Yes, I suppose your right. Best not to disturb the old bastard with something like this... Best to let sleeping dogs lie, yes... Alright. What's it going to be? A fine or something?"

"We'll have to file a report," Mr. Weasley answered.

Mad-Eye stared at Arthur, waiting for him to add-on, but he didn't, so Mad-Eye laughed, "A simple slap on the hand, then, is it? Bleeding hell... an inconvenience, as if I didn't have better things to do with my time, but alright... alright, whatever it takes to keep old Barty Crouch out of my business... Last thing I need is him snooping around, not minding his own business as usual..." He scowled.

Arthur nodded, "That's the spirit," he muttered and held out a palm for Mad-Eye, pulling him to his feet.

"If you don't mind, Arthur, if you've got this under control, I'm going to be popping home - my boy's going to be leaving for school soon - it's his sixth, and Ellen asked me to see him off, I've had him stay with me this week and Ellen made a big deal especially about seeing him off and I promised that I'd be home to take him along to the station and if I don't end up going she'll use it against me for sure in the proceedings, and --" Amos said.

Arthur nodded, "Yes, yes, of course, of course! Go and see Cedric off. Tell him good luck this year from me."

"Thank you Arthur. Good luck, Al."

"Mmphm," muttered Mad-Eye.

Amos Diggory was off without anymore chatter, hurrying out the door and 'round the rubbish and dustbins in question, heading off down the carpark, where he went spinning away.

Mad-Eye watched out the window in the kitchen door, licking his lips as he glowered and when Diggory was gone, he turned and thumped across the room, bending to glance into a looking glass on his way past a wash basin against one wall. He frowned, tilting his head this way and that, studying the glass. " Damn my reflection gets uglier every time I look at it," he muttered.

Mr. Weasley chuckled, "Ah don't I know the feeling, Alastor... don't I know the feeling! They say that happens with age."

And Mad-Eye chuckled because that wasn't at all the reason he'd been speaking of.

Cedric Diggory had already finished the breakfast that had been interrupted by the emergency call from the Ministry, and cleaned the dishes and the kitchen counter. Cedric also had brought his trunk downstairs in preparation for going to King's Cross and even changed into his Hogwarts uniform, complete with his shining Prefect's Badge, and was in the middle of doing his tie when Amos arrived back from Mad-Eye Moody's house.

"How is Mr. Moody?" Cedric asked, as Amos returned, sighing and sitting in a chair.

"He'll be alright, my boy," Amos answered.

"What was the matter?" he asked.

Amos shook his head, "Thought he heard an intruder... Alastor's been having a hard time letting go of old habits gained from being Head of the Department Magical Law Enforcement is all. Ever since he retired, he's been a bit on the jumpy side, you know. Convinced something's going to happen to him on account of the way the Sirius Black case was progressing before he retired. A lot of folks were really upset he let Black escape - not that it was Alastor's fault, if a man can get out of Azkaban prison then there's no wizard that's going to stop him from leaving Hogwarts, that's for sure."

Cedric frowned.

"Just having a hard time adjusting is all," Amos said. "Teaching this year will be good for him."

"Teaching?" Cedric asked. He'd finished his tie and was now pulling on his Hufflepuff jumper, running a hand through his hair...

"Yes," Amos nodded, "Defense Against the Dark Arts. It'll be good for him, give him something to take his mind off all his spare time."

The look on Cedric's face clearly indicated he was upset. "So it's true, then? Dumbledore really did sack Professor Lupin?"

"Had to, didn't he, with all the rumors flying about? Can't have a werewolf at Hogwarts, no no - that wouldn't ever do," Amos shook his head. "And Lupin's not helping himself, either, refusing to register and disappearing as he's done..."

Cedric shrugged, "Would it really be so bad if he did stay on?" he asked, "Clearly he's been handling it responsibly, he's done a whole year without any incident... And he was a bloody good teacher, best we've had at Hogwarts all th time I've been going anyway."

"Of course it would be bad, my boy! I commend Lupin, of course, for his diligence in minding after himself throughout the year, but all it takes is one small error, one missed dose of the wolfsbane and --" Amos's eyes were wild with the mere thought of the result. "Wouldn't be a child in that school that was safe then. And you can't even say it couldn't happen - it did happen, too - Severus Snape saved those kids - including Harry Potter himself!" Amos grinned, then said, "Of course, we already know Harry Potter isn't as gifted as he's celebrated by wizards to be, 'ey Cedric? Beat him at quidditch, didn't you?"

Cedric turned red. "Dad, how many times do I have to tell you? He fell --"

"Perhaps, but you won the match! Harry Potter didn't win the match!" Amos beamed with pride at his boy, the one ray of sunshine in an otherwise rather dismal world... with the recent divorce from Ellen, Cedric's mum, Amos had very little left in his life outside of work. He knew already that once Cedrick left for school, the house would seem even bigger, even emptier than it already did.

"Unconscious people rarely do win matches, Dad," Cedric muttered, red-faced and frustrated.

In Little Whinging, at Number 4 Privet Drive, Dudley Dursley was having a very interesting morning indeed.

Vernon Dusley had gone to work and Petunia Dursley was gone to the market, leaving Dudley at home to play with his computer games in his bedroom while she was gone to buy more grapefruits to send along to Smeltings Academy with Dudley on Monday when he would be returning to school.

"Now be good while I am gone, Diddykins," Petunia had said, smothering the top of his head with kisses, "And no getting into the grapefruits in the refrigerator while I am gone."

But it wasn't the grapefruits in the refrigerator that he had in mind.

Dudley sat in the largest chair in the living room, remote controller to his game in his fist, and listened as his mother's car tires crunched on the gravel going down the park to the street. The moment he heard the car pull away, he wobbled his way up from the chair and peered through the curtains in the window, watching the tail lights departing, watching the blinking light of her directional as she turned the corner at the end of Privet Drive.

He hurried for the stairs.

After a long summer of grapefruits and boiled chicken, Dudley Dursley was desperate for something to eat that was not grapefruit or boiled chicken. But where to get it was the question, and several times he and his mate Piers had resorted to selling some of Dudley's lesser-used items at the local pawnbroker. However, Dudley was running out of things of value that were his own which he would not miss after selling them. He was now desperate enough that he was going to forrage about in the upstairs bedrooms and see if he couldn't find something - anything-  that might be of value that he could bring later that day to exchange for a nice large chocolate bar or perhaps even a meat pie or two.

He knew Petunia had boxes and boxes of earrings that she never wore and would never miss, and these were to be his last resort should he be unsuccessful elsewhere, but he remembered that the smallest bedroom - the one that Harry occupied now during the summers when he was at Privet Drive - had once been his own and he thought perhaps he might have one or two things that he'd left in the second bedroom that could be of some value. Granted, many of the things that had been in that room to begin with had been broken (that was why they were in the second bedroom after all) but there had to be at least one or two old things in there that were of value... Dudley had come to the conclusion that selling the things in that second room must be where Harry himself seemed to get money from. After all, every year Harry went to some place he called diagonally and bought school books and stuff like that, didn't he? Harry must have figured out how to use the pawnbroker years ago and been selling all of Dudley's old things in order to do it.

So now, at home alone and with no one to explain himself to, Dudley snuck down the hallway and slowly turned the knob on the door of the second bedroom.

Even knowing there was no one there to catch him at it, he still felt nervous and glanced up and down the hallway before stepping through the threshold tentatively. He glanced about the room as he walked in, half expecting some sort of magic protection to cause a terrible thing to happen to him - like the pig tail from Harry's first year in the magic school or the awful swelling of his tongue like that toffee those horrible Weezybee boys had dropped when they'd come to pick Harry up had done. But nothing happened and it only took a couple steps in before Dudley was confidently going through the shelves of broken toys and outdated video game cartridges, pocketing some of the games and eyeing some of the little vials and things left behind by Harry on the shelf closest to the bed. He opened the drawer of the nightstand, found an old pair of Harry's glasses and several broken feather quills, a couple marbles and a plastic toy soldier.

There really wasn't much of interest in the second bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, and certainly hardly anything that Dudley could sell, but he did find one very interesting thing, half covered by a small throw rug was a floorboard which was loose and Dudley discovered it could be pried up and there beneath was a small space, a rectangle of a hiding spot and in it were several bars of chocolate of a brand called Honeydukes, which Dudley had never heard of before, and a box of something called Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a bag of Jelly Slugs. Greedily, Dudley grabbed all of these things up from the hiding space and tore the bag of Jelly Slugs opened, shoving the sticky insect shaped candy into his mouth. They tasted like cherry licorice but were soft like gum drops and he chewed the sugary sweets with feverish joy even as he tore open on of the chocolate bars and cracked the bar to find a caramel-like substance with a flavor something between toffee and butterscotch that made his mouth water for more.

He was on his hands and knees there on the carpet, eating these things, when his eyes landed on the envelope under the desk.

"Woss that?" he muttered to himself, and he crawled over, plucking the envelope up from the floor and turning it over.

Harry Potter
The Smallest Bedroom

Number 4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging, Surrey, UK

The return simply read R. J. Lupin.

Dudley's mouth was ringed by the chocolate, and he squatted on his haunches, his fingerprints all over the envelope in sugary residue as he slipped his thumb beneath the envelope flap and tore it opened, shaking out the envelope and reading:

Dear Harry,

I hope that you are doing we, Sirius and I have been traveling together, staying out of the Ministry's eye, but we are both thinking of you as we've been on the move...

His eyes roved the page, struggling with a couple larger words.

Dudley's eyes lingered on the last few lines:

You are so much like them, Harry, and they would be desperately proud of you.

As am I.

Sincerely, Remus Lupin.

He stared at the words desperately proud of you for a long time.

Whoever wrote the letter had known Harry's parents.

It was strange, Dudley thought, staring at the letter, to think of Harry Potter as having parents. He, Dudley, couldn't recall a time before Harry, and the thought of his cousin belonging somewhere else outside of Private Drive was strange. The idea of parents that were proud of him - desperately so - was strange. 

Dudley felt uneasy. 

He stared at the letter, eating more of the big bar of chocolate while he read and reread the lines, wondering what it was about them that made him feel funny.

It was later, after he'd broken into Petunia's jewelry box and stolen a pair of pearl earrings that he sold at the pawnbroker for enough money to purchase two bags of Taytos, three Flake Bars, and two large chunks of Smoked Gouda and savory biscuits that he realized what it was that was wrong: Despite all the spoiling, all the baby names and kisses and expensive gifts and toys, Vernon and Petunia had never really used the word proud before, and certainly not with the sincerity of the tone of the letter.

There was something about the letter that felt important and special... One never knew when Petunia might come in and vacuum the carpet - she always did, even when Harry wasn't staying in the room, and Dudley didn't want Petunia to find the letter, though he didn't know why.

If only he knew how to send one of those owl letters, Dudley thought, he might have sent it to Hogwarts to Harry right then, but he had no idea how the owls worked or where he would even find an owl. 

He didn't know why he wanted to make sure that Harry got it - it wasn't as though the letter was addressed to him, it wasn't as though any of the words were intended for him - whoever this Remus Lupin bloke was, he likely had no idea that Dudley existed.... But there was some strange, deeply buried bit of Dudley Dursley that wanted to keep it safe. So Dudley shoved the letter in a book in his trunk, packed to go with him to Smeltings Academy.