Two tall figures appeared in the misty street, cloaks fluttering in the wind.
They were both limping, though the thinner one was clearly trying not to.
- Doesn't it occur to you... - he started, reducing the pace of his steps a bit. - Did you ever think they chose me as Head of Office because of this?
- Of what?
- This. I mean, because I'm not that good anymore. Since I'm...
- Since you're what?
- ...A useless cripple.
The bigger man stopped dead and looked at his companion, then burst into laughter or coughing or grunting or a mixture of everything there is.
- You're not serious, right? - he asked once he was able to speak again. Immediately realising that it's been some seven years he last heard his friend joke, he sighed:
- One bad leg does not make you a useless cripple, Rufus. Well, cripple it may be, but useless? What does it make me in that case? A wooden leg, as you might say. And the eye... - he rolled his artificial eye in the socket as if to prove his words.
- The eye? The one that makes you see all around you, through objects and...
- If I didn't know you, I'd say you're jealous.
For a minute they walked in silence.
- I'm not, - Rufus replied. - I just wanted to say that your defects don't actually limit your power on the...
- Do yours?! Sorry to interrupt, auror Scrimgeour, but I didn't notice your "defect", as you call it, prevent you from dragging Karkaroff to the Ministry. And when I say Karkaroff, I mean a dangerous criminal, master of dark arts, ten years younger than you and in full health, who couldn't stand against... What did you call yourself? Say it again, come on. Say it.
- Alastor...
- Nay, you didn't say that, you said "useless cripple". Useless cripple! Merlin's Underpants, that's the first time in history that they promoted A USELESS CRIPPLE instead of kicking him outta here as soon as they could.
- Alastor, stop.
- Shut the fuck up, Rufus. Sack me if you like, now you have that right, but listen: they made you chief fucking auror, because you're the most... - I'd say the only one - who takes responsibility. I don't give a shit, you know that. Neither does anyone. Shacklebolt probably, but he's too young to be there. Needs to be forged a bit. So's your girl Bones*. You're the one who didn't drink himself to madness when Betsy** died. I almost did, and she wasn't even my wife. I know it hurts more than the stupid leg.
- You don't.
- Guess that's true. Anyway, you know what Millie said when I got my stump?
- What?
- "You should wear it like a medal, Alastor", that's what she said. Her rookies are fond of every scar. Because if you get outta there, you're a fucking hero. Think of scars as your battle record. You give yourself to the job, piece by piece. Sometimes literally. You're not ashamed of your sleepless nights, why should you feel that way about a limp?
- Sleepless nights are not visible.
- Neither is pain.
It wasn't until they reached Alastor's front door that Rufus spoke again. The C word never emerged in that conversation anymore.