He took a deep breath, pulled a dented flask from his inner pocket, and took a long swallow. The liquid burned down his throat, but it seemed to rekindle a distant memory. He shoved the flask back into his storage pocket with a rough movement.
"You know… before all this, I had a family too."
His voice was coarse, as if each word scraped its way out.
"A wife. A daughter. When the war broke out… when that bastard Mortavius started selling the idea that wizards should rule over Muggles, you know who followed him? The usual idiots. Half-wits looking for any excuse to kill, fools who think it's noble to have someone to hate."
He paused, staring at some point beyond the damp walls, as if reliving the moment.
"And me? I had to choose."
His magical eye spun restlessly, but his real eye was distant and dark.
"My wife… she deserved better. I wasn't a man for her anymore. You know how it is. The scars Morfin Gaunt left, the disfigured face, the broken body… I drowned myself in alcohol. Grew more paranoid every day, seeing enemies in the fireplace shadows. I was trash. But even so, she stayed. She loved me. Just so you understand how incredible love can be."
Moody sighed and dragged a hand down his face, as if brushing away a ghost.
"And my little girl… Merlin, she was an angel. Just hearing her laugh made me forget the bitter taste of whisky."
A heavy silence settled. He pulled out the flask again, turned it in his hand, but this time didn't drink. He shoved it back in his pocket—hard—like he wanted to bury the memory along with it.
"Then some vengeful coward put a bounty on my head…" His voice dropped to something darker, denser. "Mortavius or some other bastard… who knows. I hated many people, and many hated me back. Mass graves are filled with idiots who tried to settle scores with me."
He took another slow breath, leaned toward the unconscious woman on the floor, plucked a strand of her hair, and smelled it.
"And then, Amycus…" he said, turning toward the Death Eater, "I knew it was only a matter of time. The day came when I had to choose: risk my family's lives… or leave them to keep them safe."
The silence that followed stretched into something that felt like centuries. The magical eye rotated, assessing Amycus, while the real eye stayed fixed—cold as stone.
"You know what choice I made?" Moody asked, his voice low and sharp as a blade.
"Obviously… I left them," he answered himself.
"Now let's see if you really love your family. To spare them, you are going to become our spy. You will do everything we tell you to."
"Go f*ck yourselves! I'm not afraid of your threats!"
"You should be, my friend," Moody said calmly. "We humans… we like to believe we're in control. That we're the masters of the planet. That our intelligence puts us above other creatures."
He let out a dry, humorless laugh.
"But that's an illusion. You know what really rules this world? Diggle?"
Dédalus, leaning against the wall, shrugged.
"I dunno. Dwarves? They've got a lot of gold…"
Moody shook his head.
"Bacteria," he said. "Trillions of them. You'd be shocked to know how many we breathe in, how many live on our skin, how many swim in every sip of water we drink."
Moody watched Diggle recoil, horrified. It was likely his first time hearing about such creatures.
"And even so…" Moody continued, "they tolerate us. It's almost funny. One whim from the microscopic world and we'd be wiped out in days. We're fragile. Ridiculously fragile."
"And we're no less animals than the rest of the fauna crawling around out there." His voice sharpened. "Our choices, our grand ideals, even our wars… all of it is chemistry. Reactions in the brain. Instincts. Reason just throws a blanket over them, wraps them in pretty words to disguise what they are. But in the end, instinct always wins. Always."
"The Bond works exactly on that. Once connected to the victim's blood, it doesn't ask permission…"
His tone shifted—almost like an excited researcher presenting a breakthrough.
"It forces its way in. Stimulates, distorts, manipulates those chemical reactions. Fear, pain, desire, obedience… every possibility is open."
Moody gave a sideways smile, but there was nothing warm in it.
"There is no mind strong enough to resist. And she's a Muggle—she wouldn't last long."
Amycus began to cry—half rage, half helplessness.
"You're monsters… Bastards… I'll kill you…"
He shot Dédalus a venomous look.
"Hey, peacock! You have a family, don't you? I'll find them. One by one. You'll see what it's like to lose everything."
Dédalus fell silent. He glanced at Moody, waiting for him to step in. Moody only muttered:
"Only after you become a ghost."
Amycus spat on the floor.
"One day I'll get my revenge."
Moody stepped closer, his magical eye spinning while the real one locked onto Amycus with cruelty.
"You think this is a joke? You'll learn I'm not playing. Want a demonstration of what the Bond can do?"
Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the artifact. The clay eyes ignited in a vivid, sinister red.
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