A Bend in Time

The evening sky grows darker as the shadows creep out from their hiding places. A rugged Scottish Auror expertly transfigured his face to look like that of a local to cover his tracks. Alastor Moody had dressed in an undescriptive manner; he waits in the shadows of the village. His informant had led him to the outskirts of a village. At nightfall, Moody patiently waits and watches for what he seeks to peer.

Moody begins to lose hope when he spots no more than three hooded figures emerge from the village before apparating away. The minutes trickle by as small, hooded groups of two and three continue to vanish from the village. The minutes trickle by until no further figures appear.

Alastor Moody reaches for his wand when he halts recalling a child's handwritten note. "Tom Riddle may or may not be able to sense bloodlust much like that of a snake. Be cautious, Moody, do not be hasty in your endeavors."

The moment Moody released his wand, a group of seven figures emerge into the moonlight. The seventh member of the group is guarded by the other six. He instinctively knows just who the 7th member is Tom Marvolo Riddle. He presses himself firmly against the wall until no traces of them are left.

Moody did not move until he was certain they had gone. He did not exit the village lest there is a trap. He apperated right where he stood returning to the outskirts of the Ministry of Magic. With a determined stride, Moody marched through the front doors of the Ministry of Magic. At this late hour, the main lobby is empty. The main lobby of the Ministry of Magic is level eight of the Atrium. There are two, large, gilded fireplaces on the right and left sides connected to the Floo Networks. Occasionally the right-hand gilded fireplace lights up as a tired witch or wizard departs for the night.

Alastor Moody marches across the tile floor while on the peacock blue ceiling golden mystical symbols move across it. The glistening Fountain of Magical Brethren lies halfway down the Atrium as a group of golden statues depicting a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf, spout water into the surrounding pool of water. Past the fount lay a pair of golden gates.

In front of the golden gates sits a tired poorly shaved wizard in peacock blue robes, Eric Munch. The tired guard yawns loudly as Moody flashes his Auror badge. "No rest for the weary, aye?"

"Aye, it wasn't my turn for the night watch, but Simian called in sick. And blimey, now here I am again," Munch grumbled. Munch waves the Scottish Auror through as Munch returns to tiredly resting his eyes for a minute or two.

Moody moves past the open golden gate into the small second hall to the lifts. Alastor Moody steps into the empty lift and heads down to the 2nd floor, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As usual, at this time in the evening, there are still one or two late-night owls still at the office beside the two Aurors on duty.

Alastor marches into an open shared area of the Aurors. Typically, this cluttered area would be full of the buzzing of chatter, laughter, and memo's zooming in and out like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle reads, AUROR HEADQUARTERS. The cubicle walls are covered with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families to posters of their favorite Quidditch teams, and articles from the Daily Prophet.

On duty for tonight are the two brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. With crimson hair and a rather large nose, Fabian glances up from the wizard chessboard to see Senior Auror Moody slam the door shut behind him. Gideon on the hand, a handsome redhead rebelliously folds his arms over his broad chest leaning back into his seat.

"Do you need something, Auror Moody?" Fabian quietly asked.

"I need your help," Alastor grudgingly responded.

Fabian and Gideon stare at each other in astonishment. "Forgive me, Auror Moody, but you never take partners," Fabian stammered in shock.

Much more suspicious, Gideon narrows his eyes and says, "What exactly have you gotten yourself into Alastor Moody that you need our help?"

"If I tell you, you need to swear an unbreakable vow of silence on the subject," Alastor growled.

Gideon and Fabian's eyes widen at the severity in Auror Moody's voice. "If we do, what will this condone?" Gideon cautiously asked.

"Everything," Alastor truthfully stated.

"We'll trust you, this time," Fabian replied, after a shared look and nod with Gideon. Gideon and Fabian each take turns serving as the witness as they vow to maintain a vow of silence on the subject to be spoken about that even on the pain of death itself, they would never break their vows.

"Now, what is this about?" Gideon finally said.

"Not here," Alastor grunted and motioned them to follow them back to his highly secure safehouses.

Back at one of Moody's safehouses, Alastor motions them to take a seat as he casts a spell of concealment in case of any listeners. Seeing Auror Moody so paranoid, Gideon and Fabian stare at each other with worry. It couldn't be that Auror Moody finally lost it? He wouldn't be the first Auror to fall prey to paranoia.

Finally, Alastor takes a seat before them and gruffly says, "I'd offer you a meal, but I don't have any food here."

"We're fine," Fabian politely declined. Alastor grunts and furrows his brow as if choosing his words. After a long lapse of silence, Fabian and Gideon eye each other with worry as they fear their worst fears are realized. Alastor Moody had finally lost his marbles.

Clearing his throat finally, Alastor slowly says, "What if I told you, that in a few years' time, we will be facing the greatest war the wizarding world has ever seen?"

"I'd say you've gone mad," Gideon fearlessly retorted. "Unless you've spoken to a seer."

"And if I did, what if I told you that it all starts with a dark wizard, who is unknown to the Ministry of Magic?" Alastor grumbled.

"Then I'd ask that you tell us more," Fabian quickly interjected.

Alastor takes a list of names he had hastily written down on a scrap of parchment while in the lift of the Ministry of Magic and hands them to the two Prewett's. "All those on the list are individuals who have associated themselves with a man called, Tom Marvolo Riddle. A former graduate of Hogwarts and now a dark wizard threatening to destroy the world as we all know it."

Gideon lets out a whistle at a few of the names on the list but most especially at the ones belonging to higher ranks. "What is all of this?" Fabian gloomily inquired as he memorized the names on the list.

"Traitors," Alastor quietly said. "A farseer requested my aid and granted me these names. At first, I thought she was mad, but I reluctantly went and confirmed the truth with my very own eyes. They are all traitors, or should I say, Death Eaters."

"Death Eaters?" Gideon asked.

"That is what they call themselves, Death Eaters, the dark army of -," Alastor abruptly halts and says, "Someone's near!"

Instantly, Gideon and Fabian reach for their wands as Alastor. An unknown hooded figure peered through the shadows trying to find the trail he had lost. "It's not safe here," Alastor whispered. "Do you both recall the contents of the list?"

Gideon and Fabian mutely nod as Alastor destroyed the list with a flicker of his wand into dust, before carefully shoving the dust into his pocket. "Go!" Alastor said as the two apparated away before Moody swiftly did the same. Eventually, the hooded figure would depart having failed to find the trail.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the darkness of a forest, a hooded figure stared up at the sky. "Dark Lord is there something wrong?" A tall dark-haired woman asked.

A man with deathly pale skin tilts his face upward to reveal a waxy face with sharp cheekbones that have yet to turn into skull-like features of the future. The snake-like slits for nostrils have yet to appear, but his nose does appear to be less sharp than before. And thou still lacking snake-like pupils, the blood-red eyes of the future are already present. Dark long hair faintly hangs across Lord Voldemort's tall, slim shoulders as he frowns.

"Something is wrong," Lord Voldemort icily remarked.

"Milord, we have already sent someone to check for tails, but there are none," the tall woman replied. The woman has long, silky midnight-colored hair, thin lips, dark, heavy-lidded eyes, and a strong jaw. A strong confident beauty, Bellatrix Lestrange. Bellatrix is still as beautiful as ever and not yet the ruined gaunt woman of the future, after her stint in Azkaban.

Lord Voldemort pressed his lips together as if thought, before saying, "Push the date of our plans forward." The Death Eaters cheer in excitement as they follow Lord Voldemort into the shadows. And thusly so, once more the cogs of fate have begun to turn.