Chapter 8: "Mad-Eye" Moody

Chapter 8: "Mad-Eye" Moody

As it turns out, no amount of skill can stop a blade, and no amount of magic can stop a bullet.

Even a fully-grown wizard, when faced with a sudden, coordinated shotgun blast, will be brought to his knees.

That being said, the situation changes when your opponent is a wizard who is prepared for a fight.

With their Shield Charms cast, the vagrant wizards were now able to withstand the buckshot. The second volley only managed to punch through one man's thigh; the rest were completely unharmed.

The Leaky Cauldron had descended into utter chaos. Patrons screamed and scattered like rats from a sinking ship.

Leon's eyes were cold. He gave the next order without a moment's hesitation. "Their shields have a breaking point. Overwhelm them. Continuous fire. Do not stop."

When you're in this line of work, integrity is everything. If you say you're going to break their legs, you break their legs. You have to keep your word.

And so, after two more volleys, the grey-robed wizards who had provoked Leon were all on the floor, howling in agony.

"You will call me Mr. Shelby. Understood, gentlemen?"

Leon, holding a shotgun, made the polite request.

The wizards were too busy screaming to answer him. It was very rude.

So, Leon randomly selected a lucky winner and fired again, blowing off the man's other leg.

"I said," he repeated, his voice still calm, "call me Mr. Shelby."

This time, the request was far more effective. A chorus of choked, tearful cries of "Mr. Shelby" rose from the floor. The local talent was finally showing some manners.

Surveying the chaotic scene, Leon turned and gave a quiet order to one of his men. A team of professionals immediately set to work.

Anyone familiar with gunfights knows that a thorough cleanup is essential to ensure no incriminating traces are left behind.

First, specialized enzymatic cleaners and disinfectants are used to break down any invisible biological residue, completely removing all traces of blood and bodily fluids.

Second, any contaminated materials, such as blood-soaked carpets or even sections of floorboards, must be removed.

Furthermore, a professional team never overlooks air purification. Ozone generators are typically used to eliminate the acrid smell of gunpowder.

The fundamental reason why the Peaky Blinders, as a law-abiding organization, had never been implicated in any violent shootouts over the years was their professionalism.

Soon, the once-chaotic pub was restored to its original state. If not for the men moaning and clutching their legs in the corner, one would think nothing had happened at all.

Leon nodded in satisfaction. The team's skills were still sharp. Their speed and efficiency were more than adequate.

Just as he was about to return to his seat, a peculiar, clunking footstep sounded from the pub's entrance.

Leon looked up to see a man in a practical, worn jacket standing in the doorway.

He had a messy shock of grey hair, and a large chunk of his nose was missing, giving his face a fearsome, battle-scarred appearance. Stranger still were his eyes. One was small, dark, and beady. The other was large and a vivid, electric blue, but it whizzed and spun manically in its socket, a truly bizarre and unsettling sight.

And, likely due to some terrible past incident, one of his legs was a wooden stump.

Leon narrowed his eyes. A name surfaced in his mind: "Mad-Eye" Moody.

If he wasn't mistaken, this was the man Dumbledore had sent to help him. Leon had expected Snape, given the Potions Master's expertise in the Dark Arts and his history as a Death Eater. But he had to admit, the legendary Auror was also an excellent choice.

"Leon Shelby?" Moody's stride was brisk, his speech rapid. He shot a contemptuous glance at the wizards writhing on the floor. He then looked back at Leon. "I have to say, I think I like you already."

His magical eye spun wildly, taking in every detail of the room. When it settled on the looks of hatred on the faces of the injured wizards, Moody suddenly bellowed.

"Tom William! Connected to three Muggle disappearances, but the idiots at the Ministry couldn't find enough evidence to send you to Azkaban!"

"Reddy Jackson! Suspected in a break-in and murder last month. If those incompetent fools at the Ministry had done their jobs, a Dementor would be kissing you goodnight!"

"And the rest of you are nothing but scum!" he roared, pointing a gnarled finger at each of them in turn. "Thieves... robbers... con artists..."

"Frankly, if the Auror sent to arrest you had been me—Alastor Moody—you wouldn't have even made it to trial."

"To be precise, you wouldn't have been brought back in one piece!"

"Now, get out! Get your filthy hides out of my sight!"

The name, the reputation... for this sort of wizard, the name "Mad-Eye Moody" was a more powerful deterrent than any curse. They didn't even dare to show a hint of resentment. They scrambled to their feet, helping each other limp and crawl their way out of the pub in a pathetic retreat.

Leon watched him, his expression placid. He politely removed his cap. "Good afternoon, Mr. Moody."

He then turned to his bodyguards and gave a low command. "With Mr. Moody here, you needn't worry about my safety. Wait for me outside."

The column of black-suited Peaky Blinders filed out in silence.

Watching them go, Moody scratched his head and spoke with gruff admiration. "Good lads, the lot of them. A shame they're Muggles. From what I can see, they're more use than the current crop of useless sods at the Ministry. The Aurors they're recruiting these days are a bunch of soft-handed nancy boys."

Leon didn't feign modesty, simply offering a small smile and a nod of thanks.

"Right then, lad," Moody said, getting straight to the point. "Dumbledore said you had some business to attend to, and that you needed a guide and a bodyguard. Is that right?"

Leon was equally direct, explaining his need to exchange a large sum of Galleons and his hope that Moody could provide protection until the start of the school term. Of course, he had other plans as well, but there was no need to share those with Moody just yet.

"And of course, Mr. Moody," Leon said, his face a mask of sincerity, "while I know you are not a man motivated by money, please allow me the opportunity to express my gratitude. I will pay you five hundred Galleons for your time. Please, do not refuse."

Moody froze. Even his magical eye stopped spinning for a brief second.

He had witnessed the entire exchange and had already taken a liking to the Shelby boy. He had thought, with methods as ruthless as his, the lad would make an excellent Auror one day. But now, he had to admit, the boy had just become a great deal more likeable.

"Done!" Moody laughed, a loud, barking sound. He turned and strode towards the door. "First stop, Gringotts!"

Leon followed close behind. As they exited the pub, he deliberately slowed his pace by a few steps, catching the eye of the subordinate waiting for him at the door and giving him an questioning look.

The man leaned in and spoke in a low voice.

"It's been taken care of, boss. Clean."