|Scene Title||Afterschool Special|
|Synopsis||Braeden hangs around after class to talk to Moody. Tonks makes quite the entrance.|
|Date||Sept. 11, 1994|
|Watch For||Protege abuse|
After the other students have left the classroom, Moody gives a flick of his wand and the door shuts. Another wave, and a chair is drawn up and gestured to for the brave Gryffindor. "I take it you had more to ask sonny? Judging from the way you're standing there, it weren't fit for other ears."
Braeden shifts away from the desk he'd been leaning against to take a few steps closer to the Professor. "It wasn't quite that. I just wanted to wait until you weren't being bombarded was all." He replies before taking a seat in the chair that had been offered to him. The run of his fingers through his hair would signify something of nervousness from the man though beyond that he doesn't seem to show anything of the sort. "My father's mentioned a few things about you Professor Moody. That you're possibly the best Auror he'd ever come across in the field. I wanted to find out if it were possible that I could help you with the younger classes and learn a few things from you."
A harsh cackle escapes, "I've been bombarded by worse, McCauley." Moody sits up a bit straighter in his seat, looking over the student in front of him. Both eyes, beady and fake are on the student as he makes his request. "I see. Your father's a good man, aye, I recognize the name. Your mother? Good witch herself. Strong. A shame what happened to her. A lot of good witches and wizards fell about 13, 14 years ago." Not one to reminisce for too long, his focus is back on the here and now. "I'll have to think about it. I already got all the help I need. Most professors normally don't need to take assistants. I'll be happy to meet with the students I can in between classes and on weekends."
Braeden smiles just a bit at the man's words before offering him a solemn nod, "Being able to learn a few things from you would be good enough if you don't feel the need to do the other." He doesn't seem to go into the comment regarding the death of witches though, content upon the answer he'd received. His study would fall on Moody though, measuring him as he had when he'd first entered the class as he offers again, "Anything I can learn would be appreciated. Even if I don't make it into one of the Auror positions, I will move into one of the Hit Wizard ones either way. I'm willing to take the scars if I can help to stop what happened to her and my brother from happening to other wizards and witches."
You know… considering who has made it to being an Auror, lately, one would think they were letting up on their standards. Take for instance what's currently barrelling through the classroom door. It might've been open, it might've been closed. Well, it's open now, however it may be. Because there's now a young woman with eye-searing bright cyan hair toppling head first through the classroom's entrance, and careening into a nearby desk. Carry on.
"You seem to be made of tougher stuff than your classmates. I chalk it up to your parentage," Moody states quite frankly. "Just make sure you want to learn for the right reasons. While I believe in arming yourself and preparing for anything, far too many witches and wizards have sought knowledge for the wrong reasons." He doesn't need to say Voldemort again, does he? "I wouldn't expect less from someone of your lineage boy." He gestures his head towards the door, "Now Miss Pretty White Hair? She'd probably faint first time she breaks a nail." Speaking of doors and Pretty Hair, in barrels his protege. Ladies and gents? Nymphadora Tonks. Considering he was looking at the door, he probably knew she was there the whole time, which is why he's not up from his chair, jinxing everything in sight. "Nymphadora!" he does in fact bark. Who else could it be?
Braeden shifts in his chair with the drift of his hand down to the side of his cloak, looking almost as if he was going to grab for his wand. After all, it's not every day someone comes stumbling like *that* into a classroom in Hogwarts. Something Tonks seemed rather good at doing. He looks surprised when he sees her though before looking towards Moody with a musing sound and back again. "So father was right. Whoever would've thought." He comments with the brush of his hand to the back of his head.
"Oiiii…" Tonks ends up wiggling a bit trying to get comfortable in the chair. "I dont' fit in these anymore. Maybe I need to cut back on my chocolate frog intake." Strange, Tonks has the power to assume almost literally any human shape, but doesn't quite think to keep up to the standards of 'beauty', as far as shape goes, without having to need to. Then there's taht booming voice. There's a wince, and she turns to look down towards the head of the classroom. "I…deserved that, didn't I?" You'd think Moody was her /father/ the way he throws her given name around. She scrambles out of the chair, thankful it doesn't have armrails or her butt might've been stuck and she a bit more gracefully approaches the front. "How'd class go?" Yes, that's waht she's here for. As far as anyone knows.
Moody flashes a stern look of reprimand at Tonks, "It went fine." There is no commentary in regards to the size nor shape of Tonks's backside and her intake of chocolate. Other than, "I told you to watch the sugar. Amazing you can sneak up on anyone after having chocolate." He pushes up from his seat and gestures towards Tonks, "This is my protege, Nymphadora Tonks. And this is one of my students, Braeden McCauley. His father's an auror and his mother was a hit wizard." If Tonks recalls the name, there's no need to go into the fate of Mrs. McCauley.
Braeden looks up at her for a moment, almost stifling a snicker to the comment regarding chocolate and suger. He does however grin just a bit. He rises from his seat after his name is offered though he doesn't make any other mention in regards to his mother unless asked about it. "I don't think anyone in Hogwarts when she was here could forget the hair, or the barreling through. Happy to see you got to where you wanted." He adds in before stopping next to the desk Mad-Eye was standing at. "Good to meet you at least." While he had risen, his pack was left in the seat where he sat last after letting it fall from his shoulder casualy.
There's a cheeky grin. "But I /can/." She passed her tests, to prove it! Miraculously. She turns to Braedon and she gives him a quick wink. "Wotcher, Braedon." No formalities or addresses. Her expression falters just the slightest at the mention of Braedon's parents, but she trudges on. Not her business to linger on a sad subject. As for the hair. "Man, I got so many detentions for that." What entirely was wrong with running with House Colors? Seriously! She pulls out a small thing, what appears to be a muggle notebook and scrawls something down. "So, getting some out of class tips from everyone's favorite Auror?"
Moody doesn't offer a hand to shake, as one normally would at this juncture. Paranoia will make one look over the niceties. The man doesn't even trust the food and drink at Hogwarts for crying out loud. He inclines his head in a nod to Braeden, "I expect good things of your work in class, McCauley." He raises a hand and scratches at the weathered remains of his jaw. "I only did my job," he says matter of factly. They could give him all the awards ever invented and he wouldn't care about them.
Braeden grins just a bit at her with the flicker of his gaze at the faulter in her expression. His fades for just a moment until she chooses to move onto the subject of her everchanging hair of the day. He almost seems to draw himself a bit taller from the man's words regarding his class work though beyond that he doesn't fill his head with any other hot air regarding it. "Somehow I have a feeling you knew most of what went on in this classroom before you came in Tonks. But you could say that." A nod is cast the way of Alastor Moody soon followed by the heft of his pack from the chair. "I'll try my best and nothing less. I believe in my reasons for it."
The notebook's stuffed back into her pocket, now that she's done doodling some sort of mutant inforestation being dealt with by deformed rabbits. Tonks is grinning at Braedon, "Eh maybe a bit. But being taught how to be an /Auror/ by this guy's a little bit different than getting school studies by this guy—" She pauses and then asides to Moody, "You're not planning on a 'field trip' to Azkaban are you?" Just to be sure. Still, back to Braedon. "You planning on that kind'a path?" Her tone, while light, is rather serious. Especially knowing the family sitch.
Moody eyes Tonks and the paper she's doodling on. Seemingly dismissive of it, he gives Braeden a nod. "Don't be late for your next class McCauley, and pay attention, and you'll do well." His protege is given another glance, a mild, well, mild enough, expression on his face. If one can discern any outward displays of emotion. "Still having nightmares about your first field trip there? I remember a certain someone sobbing for her mommy afterwards."
"Yes, I am." Braeden states simply to Tonks in reply to her question, the seriousness a note to see from her considering the usual cheery disposition. A nod is offered to Mad-Eye before shifting the strap at his shoulder again for comfort afterward as he turns away from the two to look towards the door. "It isn't because of the simple want to be like the 'rents though. I'll stop by this weekend Professor when you don't have a class." The faint quirk of his lips would break the serious look on his face after saying that before turning to make his way towards the door.
Tonks is completely unphased. Three years of this, you build up a backbone. Perhaps that had been Moody's goal all along. "It was fun," Tonks utters noncommittally, as if she were talking about the weather. Then again, the reason for the whole mommy thing was the fact that by the time she left there all she had thoughts of was the fact she was an ostracized, disowned freak of nature, but hey…For Braedon, she tilts her head a moment, watching him, and she nods here. "Then listen to this guy. He knows what he's doing. Listen to him, you'll get far." She wrinkles her nose, "And don't upset Professor snape too much." There's a pause and then she offers, "If you want to chat or something, feel free to send me an owl. I don't mind chit chatting." She's serious, actually.
A sharp nod of his head is made towards Braeden as the lad exits the room. "I'll be here." Where else is he going to be? "This one's a chatterbox. You get her started she won't shut up," he says with a faint bark to his voice. Waiting for Braeden to be out of earshot, he chats with some weird form of camaraderie with Tonks.