After everything that had gone on in the battle, Moody's mind was having some difficulty catching up to the realisation that they'd won -- Grindelwald was defeated and that was certainly reason to celebrate. But even defeating the Austrians wasn't good enough reason for him to feel cheerful at the moment. Maybe they would all be heroes when they went home. Maybe they'd get medals and get to shake the Minister of Magic's hand and get their names published in the Daily Prophet but all of that remained to be seen. For now, he was still stunned from it all -- none of it seemed real to him. It couldn't possibly be real. To some extent, he was not entirely sure that he hadn't died alongside Gwen over the lake and this was all some elaborate dream. In reality, people like Gwen didn't die and his Head of House didn't defeat the most powerful man in Europe as though he were duelling any average man. And he didn't wander across people like Professor Viridian lying on the ground. It just didn't happen.
But somehow, it was happening now. When he caught sight of Vindictus, he took his time walking over to him. He knew he should have felt more urgency but there was little that seemed to matter to him at the moment. He waited until he was practically standing over his professor before he looked down at him, raising his eyebrows. 'Sir?'
Vindictus had spent the last while going in and out of consciousness and only seeing parts of the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald -- which still didn't feel exactly real to him just yet -- and now that it was over, the first and only thing he wanted to do was to get to the field hospital before he ended up as dead as the Austrian he had killed earlier. After willing himself to roll over onto his front, he had started dragging himself on all fours -- or threes, rather, as his right leg didn't seem to be co-operating with him anymore -- in what he was sure was the right direction when he thought he heard Moody address him. Not being entirely sure, and feeling hopelessly embarrassed about looking as pathetic as he did in front of one of his favourite students, he stopped and turned to stare up at him.
'Well, you're looking better than you did last time, I think' he muttered, blinking as he tried to get a better look; Moody was standing at least, but even in his light-headedness, he couldn't help but notice there was a great deal of blood on him. 'Is that yours?'
'No,' Moody answered, kneeling down to get a closer look at his professor, still not fully fathoming that what he was seeing was truly happening. It was as though everyone he looked up to had been hurt in some way but he refused to believe that Professor Viridian -- the one who had taught him all the tricks he knew and how to even begin to contemplate becoming an Auror -- had been reduced to crawling around on the ground. But even so, he took note of his injuries and knew without looking very closely they were bad.
'What happened, sir?' he said, reaching out to prod at his professor's arm as though touching him would clarify the situation any further. Because if it was real -- and there was still the nagging thought that in spite of his doubts, it might be -- then he needed to see a Healer. And quickly. 'Does it hurt?'
'No, I'm fine, h-honestly,' Vindictus snapped, not really answering the question and trying to hold up one hand to half-push Moody away, and not realising that both he and his voice were shaking. 'Th-this isn't the first time any of this has happened to m-me before, and it's n-not going to be the l-last.' Except in the past, he hadn't exactly taken that much damage to his leg all at once, and certainly not while it was already weak and he walked with a limp; then again, he wasn't in the proper mindset to be thinking rationally right then. 'But y-you need to see a Healer, j-just in case.'
'I think you need to see a Healer, sir,' Moody said, sounding somewhat sceptical over Professor Viridian insisting he was fine. He certainly didn't look fine, though he knew that at all costs, he'd never admit it if he weren't. Not unless Hagrid was somehow involved. And perhaps that was enough of a reality check for him, because it suddenly became very important that he help Professor Viridian to the hospital area. He hadn't been able to help Gwen -- or keep her from making matters worse for herself -- but perhaps this time, he could get it right. 'Perhaps we should both see a Healer, sir. Just in case.'
Vindictus glared at Moody this time before he started to drag himself forward again, although now that his adrenaline from earlier had ebbed away, the prickliness of the grass against his mangled leg cut into it more painfully than he would have liked. 'Look, M-Moody, if you w-want to be an Auror, you n-need t-to get used to seeing things like this.' Again, he didn't seem to be responding to what the other boy was actually saying, though he wasn't entirely sure what that was anyway. 'And I can get to the h-hospital myself, you just r-run along ahead and -- look, I can st-still Apparate.' As if to prove he was perfectly fine, he tightened his grip on his wand, shut his eyes, and tried to focus on his destination -- but while there was a crack splitting the air, he found himself lying on his back only several feet away and had a bad feeling he had Splinched a few fingers; forgetting there was a student in front of him, he shouted, 'DAMMIT' and lay on the grass to catch his breath.
Moody had been about to assure Professor Viridian that he was sure he could still Apparate -- that there was no need to show him -- when he did exactly that. Reality or not -- there were now several fingers remaining where his professor used to be and for all of that, he'd only moved a few feet away.
'Sir!' Moody said, half out of shock and concern and half out of a near-chiding reaction to a stubbornness to which not even he could compare. How had Professor Viridian not been a Gryffindor? He was left to wonder as much as he scooped the dismembered fingers from the dirt and stuffed them in his pocket. Standing up, he took several steps to cover the distance between them. 'I'm sorry, sir, but I think that as an Auror, I'll have to know when to make sure some one sees a Healer. At the very least, they can fix your fingers for you.' And, drawing his wand, he cast Mobilicorpus on Professor Viridian -- if he wouldn't see a Healer himself, Moody would just have to take him to one.
Vindictus had been thinking to himself that he would roll back onto his front at any moment to resume his crawl to the hospital, so he was far from pleased when Moody had cast Mobilicorpus on him; had someone else been in his place and he was merely observing what his protégé was doing, he would have commended him on his quick thinking, decisiveness, and utter disregard for what the other person wanted -- but instead, he shot another angry glare at him as he tried to pull himself back onto the ground.
'What the -- Moody, put me down and stop helping me right now, or you're still going to be in detention by the time you're an Auror.' His latest outburst, however, proved to be more exhausting than he had expected, and before he could start listing off what sort of nasty punishments he had in mind or hexing him, he lost consciousness and went limp, dropping his wand into the grass.
Moody glanced somewhat sadly up at where his professor was floating beside him when he threatened to give him detention -- he wasn't sure if it was a legitimate threat or not, but he supposed he should worry about that later. He apologised again, even knowing that it fell upon deaf ears, as he stopped to retrieve Profesor Viridian's wand. Maybe when he was healed -- assuming that he could be healed -- he would feel differently about the situation and decide not to give him detention. But even if he didn't, the thought of being in detention after he'd been in a war seemed almost silly. He'd have to go back to 'normal' and return to school after all of this -- he could be assigned detention the following year. Were he in higher spirits, he might have laughed at the sheer absurdity of such an idea, but with his favourite professor hanging in the balance and one of his best friends gone forever, he couldn't manage to find the energy to laugh.
Instead, he focused on getting to the hospital area as quickly as he could manage and not allowing anything to distract him along the way. Maybe there would be time to laugh about it when he'd recovered, but for now, Moody was determined there would be no more blood on his hands.