"Training's over?"
Sirius slipped the letter back into his robe pocket without a trace, wiping every expression from his face before looking up at Harry and the other two, who had just returned to the living room for a rest. He casually picked up the Butterbeer keg from the table and poured each of them a glass.
"It's over!" Harry said.
"They all did brilliantly."
Leaning on his cane, Moody dropped heavily onto the sofa beside them. He pulled a metal flask from his robe pocket, took a swig, and praised them without reservation. "I'm sure they'll become excellent Aurors someday."
Moody had been training Harry, Ron, and Hermione to the standards of Trainee Aurors. It had to be said that the three of them were better than most Trainee Aurors who had just joined the Ministry of Magic.
"Harry's always been outstanding," Sirius said proudly. "Just like James."
"However..." Moody paused, shaking his head. "If they want to go onto the battlefield, they'll need more systematic training. A few months of rushed instruction won't be enough."
He actually had little confidence in what Harry and the others planned to do next, and he understood even less what Dumbledore was thinking.
"Be fair, Mad-Eye," Sirius said. "Harry isn't even of age yet. His current performance is already exceptional."
"Harry is certainly good, better than most people, but he has more important things to do in the future." Moody did not mince words. "Honestly, if they go onto the battlefield with no experience, I seriously doubt they'll survive until the start of term in September."
Moody had not forgotten Dumbledore's final words. Harry was their most precious hope, and they had to trust him.
It was precisely because Harry was their hope that Moody could not help worrying about his safety.