27th June 1973- Barney: 12, Clint: 9

Alastor Moody was many things; an Auror, an old-blood, a duellist of considerable skill, scion of House Moody, etc. He was not qualified for this. But here he was, with his two nephews. Mentally he removed 'brother' from his list of qualification and added 'guardian'. It was his own fault. He'd agreed to be the lads' godfather back when they were born. Of course, he hadn't expected to actually need to look after them.

This was why he was waiting at the airport, watching the arrivals board. He and the rest of the Moody family had decided it would be too hard on the boys to make them Apparate across the Atlantic Ocean. Phil, Edith's Muggle-born schoolfriend, had offered to organise flights for them. Hence why Alastor was stuck here, watching a board. The flight from Iowa was landing. Then he saw them. Barney was the oldest he remembered, all long limbs and hair as red as a Weasley. Clint was clinging to his hand. He looked like Alastor's younger brother had at that age, with messy sandy hair.

"Hello lads. I don't know if you'd remember me-"

"You're Uncle Alastor." said Barney. "You came over when Clint was born."

Alastor nodded. "That's me. Come on, I'll take you home."

The drive back was mostly silent. After all, what did you say to a boy who'd seen his mother murdered? He did bring up transferring to Hogwarts, to spare Barney being an ocean away from his brother. Barney had little enough to say, only that he'd miss being in Wampus. Clint asked if there was food at the house.

Alastor wished he'd thought to tidy before picking the boys up. His papers on his latest case were sprawled across the kitchen table while the breakfast pots were still in the sink.

"I ah- sorry for the mess."

Barney shrugged, putting the suitcase by the stairs.

"I don't mind."

Clint had disappeared into the living room. His voice came floating out.

"Your mirror's broken."

"It's a Foe-Glass," explained Alastor, "lets me keep an eye on my enemies. The closer they are, the clearer they are. I'm only in trouble if I see the whites of their eyes."

Clint reappeared from the living room, holding a Sneakoscope. Once Alastor had finished explaining what that did, he offered to show them their rooms. There was the big one at the front, overlooking the street and the smallest one next to the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, both boys wanted the big room. Alastor volunteered to move from his room, the one furthest from the stairs, into the smallest room. The argument over the bigger room lasted over lunch, going to the local park, dinner, and chasing a tabby cat down the street. Apparently whoever caught it would gain the big room. The cat escaped by hiding under a car.

"I should get the room." insisted Clint as they arrived at their driveway. "I need room to grow."

"Moron." muttered Barney.

"I heard that!"

Alastor lifted his hand. Both boys flinched as one. Alastor lowered his hand slowly. No sudden movements.

"Why don't we flip a coin to decide?"

Clint nodded. "Can I flip it?"

"I'll flip, I'm neutral."

So Alastor did, as Clint called for tails. Alastor revealed the dragon snarling on the coin and Clint scowled. Barney punched the air triumphantly before ruffling Clint's hair. Clint batted his hand away, scowl deepening. Eager to prevent the Second Wizarding War from starting in the driveway, Alastor herded them inside and pushed them into the living room while he moved their bags.

"Where's your broom Barney?"

"Don't have one, Dad didn't agree with me flying."

Once the clothes from the suitcase were divided between the boys' rooms, Alastor lugged their backpacks upstairs and left the rest for them to unpack. Downstairs, over hot chocolate, he convinced the boys to talk about decorating ideas.