Recently Alastor had not the slightest idea as to what was happening to him recently. Lately he had found himself  caressing his hands whenever he had found himself at a confusing path in his work or lost in deep thoughts. He didn't know the reason why, but he hate to admit it that it brought about a sense of calmness and an almost nostalgic feeling. Soon his left foot began to tapped to an unknown beat, it just suddenly appeared in his mind, brought by a thick fog which gently left it on the floor of his skull.

Too caught up with his thoughts, it didn't occurred to him that he was currently seated in the library and the tapping of his foot had created a nuisance for many. Yet, those who were annoyed were just too terrified of the thought of confronting the young male, especially when he seemed so content with himself. So, instead, they decided to let him stay, only throwing hot glares his way.

It was quite some time before his free period ended as he clambered to his potions class, many were grateful with Alastor leaving since this meant that they were now able to continued with their studies, this time in peace.

The walked to the dungeons had never seemed more bright and brisk to Alastor as he spiralled down the crooked stairs. It was one of the many class he loved, since the teacher, Professor Slughorn, was one of the few people whom was glad to hold a proper conversation with him. Sure, the man did had his flaws such as nit picking his students as if they were objects to show-off, yet the thought of him actually seeing his talents other than this outlandish fluke everyone have painted him as, did lightened his heart. The other reason was because the man provided a stress free class unlike the others, which constantly hanged the thought over their heads like whips, that they were Sixth years and they should consider themselves as N.E.W.T.s students. If Alastor earned a knut every time a teacher mention the word N.E.W.T.s he will be incredibly wealthy.

As always he was right on time as he was greeted by the wide smile of  the walrus like man. He was moderately shorter than Alastor as he wobbled himself towards him, even when he was in first year Alastor was still at a considerable good height than Slughorn.

"Alastor m'boy, your essay on Golpalott's Third Law was nothing short of spectacular. One of the best works I ever read, it was utterly refreshing."

A crooked smile was send his way as Alastor answered under his breath, " Thank you sir, it was nothing really. You were the one whom gave me the notes, it wasn't really hard from there."

A booming laugh escaped Slughorn as he caressed his bulging stomach. "Modest as always Alastor, I'm having a special get together with some Slytherin this evening I hope I may see you there, the usual place 9 o' clock." he ended his statement with a wink before wobbling back to the front of the class, which was now packed.

Shortly after Professor Slughorn had started the usual lecture. Alastor had finally found peace in himself as he inhaled the natural perfume of the class, he had found it was one of the few place he was content with himself. Even his bed had became a torment, littered with haunting whispers echoing inside his ears; another thing he don't quite understand that was happening to him.

Alastor had found himself unable to sleep as he was now plagued with endless thoughts. The thoughts themselves didn't make any literal sense whatsoever as it was filled with nothing but abstract shapes.

Another problem, was that, recently, he founded himself actually contemplating whether or not he should cut his long brown locks. For years he had abandoned his hair to the elements has it became too wild for a comb to go through, something he had to learned the hard way last week as he had to resort to using his scissors. He also caught his blue eyes staring at his large hawk like nose every now and then, wishing it was smaller or cursing the fact as to why his shoulders have to be so large and rounded. At times, late in the night, Alastor saw how he would stare at the pictures of his parents for hours asking why he didn't inherited his mother's softer looks?

Soon, his fingers began to drum against the desk, playing the very same tune as this morning.

*

Potions ended too quickly on Alastor part as Slughorn spared him one last wink before disappearing behind a crowd of students as many have troubled brewing their potion earlier. Alastor packed his bag slowly as he got ready for his double session of Transfiguration, a rather difficult subject he must add, taught by nobody else but Dumbledore himself. The man was the epitome of what a wizard should be, as he remembered reading about his victor over Grindlewalt. The thrill and excitement with the need of wanting to placed his hands on every article with the story still lingered at the back of his mind. Alastor couldn't helped but looked up to the man, hoping he could be half of who he was today.  Soon he began to trod to the class. One thing he loved about Hogwarts, was that there was more than one pathway one could take to reach their destination. The corridor Alastor pick was empty of sounds of chatter or anyone at that. He loathed the racket the students made rushing to their class, especially repetitive one at that. Another reason he hardly attended quidditch matches. Sure, he would support his house by flaunting around in green, but nothing else. He could not see how one could possible concentrate in such loud noise.  He breathed a sigh of relief when he spot the classroom and like always he was the first student to reached.

Settling in a seat in the middle he began to rummaged for his textbook, but at that moment, the red head girl which was printed into his mind the entire week,  stumbled in. Her hair was in a messy braid combed down as she gave the professor a goofy smile, this time, however, she was accompanied by a friend. If he wasn't looking good she would be blended in her shadows, with her delicate olive complexion and incredibly sharp face. Her eyes were bright, however, was hard as it gave everyone a steely glance, including him. As she turned her nose up when her brown eyes landed on him.  He had seen that face before, mused Alastor, however, he was more taken with the red head to dwindled on such trifling matters.

It was hard for him to take his eyes off her as he watched how she fumbled to collect her things. Her scarf was still intact despite the fact it was the hottest temperature ever recorded in Alastor time at Hogwarts. Nevertheless, she kept wrapping it tighter around herself. He also noted that there was more yarn hanging loose from their track. The rest of the class was foggy, almost daze like, as he founded his attention split in two. The most oddest of internal fight Alastor had ever founded himself in, as he quickly scribbled down what Dumbledore was saying, then like clockwork, stole a glance at the girl. It was like this for the rest of the class as he cursed his foolish behavior.

What had gotten into him? He wondered. Was he ill, was it the weather or was it something he ate? His stomach have been acting strangely lately as he thought of it, it was  though he was hosting some pixies inside, since at times he can felt them springing themselves onto his stomachs' walls. Did that mean he couldn't trust the elves again? No, that did not add up, why would an house elf poisoned him, unless, they were instructed to. Swiveling his head around his heart started to pound against his chest. Who was it? Was it someone in this room? Thought Alastor to himself, as he gave everyone a steely look before stopping at a familiar red head.

Was it her, was she the one  to be blamed for poisoning his food and giving him his frequent stomachache?

He shook his head in denial, it wasn't possible, she was too much of a clutz to pull off something at that calibre. Soon Alastor dismissed the thought altogether.

It wasn't long after the class was over and one by one the students trickle out, some stopped at Dumbledore, asking  the older man questions while others quickly breeze out, as if the air was poisoned and Alastor didn't blamed them. It was one of the most hardest topic yet. The spell  Cririus Muto was absolutely difficult to begin with, it made last week lesson of turning one eyebrow in a shade of troll green laughable, as the students was task to turned their entire  hair in a shade of hot red. With this spell, there can't be no mistake, no clumsy hands movement, everything should be precise. It was why Alastor found such a hard time thinking of what to do since his mind was busy thinking of the red hair girl. From his observation, the girl was not capable of such latter, it even lead him to wonder as to why she got recommended in the first place.  This distraction caused him to accidently turn his now choppy cut hair into a horrible hot pink. 

He sighed at the memory as he packed his bag, he was brought to a stop when he noticed that he placed the smallest text book at the back and the largest one at the front, swearing under his breath, he took them out again. This time organizing them more properly.

Trumping towards the door he was stopped by Dumbledore, as the older man popped a sweet in his mouth," Want one?" Alastor eye the colorful wrapper before scrunching up his nose.  He despised sweets. Even more, he hate when he was handed food and he didn't saw where it came from  and how it was prepared.

"No thank you." Alastor answered with a  grunt. Soon he  stroke up in a position to leave, wherein he was stopped again.

"Fine. But I really think you're missing out, these muggles sweets are really good."  Dumbledore sighed in delight at the sugary taste.  Alastor stood dumbfounded as he watched in awe as the older man he looked up to became child-like as he began to unwrapped more sweets in a fury. "They are amazing, these muggles, imagined they can create something so delicious sweets without any magic!" mused Dumbledore as he nodded in appreciation at the toffee.

Alastor eyes trailed from the empty wrappers then back to his transfiguration teacher with disbelieved in his eyes, quickly he shook if off as he got ready to leave once again. "I'm glad to know you're enjoying yourself sir." Dumbledore chuckled in response.

"Thank you Moody, however, I'm sorry I can't extend such gratifying pleasantry to yourself. It's  rather uncommon for me to see you bumble in class , is everything fine ?"

Alastor stared deep into his twinkling eyes , to saw whether or not if he  had any hidden agenda. Was he that easy to read? He thought.Sure he wasn't feeling well recently, perhaps it was due to the stress, or the change of climate.  Nonetheless, he would never admit this out loud, not even to Dumbledore. So with that, silence was the older male response. One thing he learned from his parents was that, even if the enemy or anyone think you're at a disadvantage, never confirmed such fact. Let them remained assuming the latter. Soon, his thoughts was cut short by Dumbledore chuckled.

"You don't need to answer Alastor . Sometime my curiosity get the best of me." he said as he waved off the tension between them. He grunted in response, soon, as though Dumbledore had forgotten he had his  herbology class to attend, stroke up in a friendly conversation on how once as a boy gotten into bet to see if Bertie's every flavor bean, do actually have every flavor. It was quite boring and honestly uncomfortable. He wasn't one to indulged in small talk, he found it utterly tiring. Yet, somehow, he couldn't told Dumbledore this, as he sat dwindling with his thumbs.

He didn't knew why, but it just happened, without any meaning to it. Bored from the older man antics his eyes began to wandered the empty class room and soon enough his eyes found something. It wasn't hard to spot as it was the only thing that had colour in the grey classroom. Without any control over his movements he sat up suddenly, bringing an abrupt stopped in Dumbledore chatter as strolled down the aisle  towards it. He didn't even realized how fast he was walking until he felt how dry his lungs were. Pushing his messy bang backwards, out of his face, as he need a  better view to see whether or not if the article was actually there or a figment of his imagination. Bending low and taking up the object he jumped in shock. The material felt more harsher than he had imagined. The threads felt as thick and coarse as a rope. However, it seems the color  intensified as he had  to squinted his eyes to look at the piece.

"She forget her scarf." Alastor whispered.