The Scales of Merlin: Sum of All Fears
A Post-Deathly-Hallows Harry Potter Fan Fiction Adventure
Chapter One: "Die Rückkehr des Reisenden"
A solitary figure in starched navy-blue robes strode along the spotless corridors of the Ministry for Magic's fifth floor annex. Sighing, he approached the stout oaken door of the men's room at the end of the hall. After slipping inside, he stood, staring blankly in the mirror. A young, serious face, with piercing blue eyes framed by imposing brows stared back at him.
"Bloody hell… just my luck," the young man groused mentally. "From the outside I suppose it looks just ducky- but dammit- why me? I'm not that much like Potter, am I? Fine, I'm about his height, a bit taller, maybe. We both have dark hair-his is black, mine is brown. I don't even wear glasses, and I'm not the "Saviour of the Wizarding World"! But, Merlin's teeth, I swear that he affects every single thing I do… Yes, I most definitely am grateful to him for his heroics during the war, and he's assuredly a braver man than I, but that doesn't mean that I am compelled to live in his proverbial shadow for the rest of my existence!
"Are you quite sure, Counsellor?" sneered the dark cloud in his soul. Let us consider the evidence… you were jealous of his ability to do underage magic and break rules with impunity since you met him, and you wanted the companionship with other students that he had. If I recall correctly, you had fantasized since you were three that you were the 'Boy Who Lived'. And as if that wasn't enough, you even took care of Potter's hand-me-down ex-girlfriends for him!" The scathing voice seemed to pause, just as he himself might before capping an important cross-examination. "I do believe that the only reason those two even looked at you was simply because you were the closest thing they could get to fulfilling their 'Oh, Harry' fantasies… Isn't that what Ernie said? Face the truth! All your vaunted achievements have only been desperate attempts to escape from his aura. What," it mocked, "no answer from the 'finest young Wizard-Barrister sin-'"
"That is quite enough," the 25-year-old thundered aloud, his features exuding a renewed self-command. "Damn, it's that bad… I'm having mental duels with myself which make all of those clashes with the finest of the Public Defence Wizard-Solicitors look like lumps of boiled kumquat paste! Just because Macmillan was behaving like a certifiable g-"
A soft hiss of rushing air was heard as the door opened, and the wizard in front of the mirror froze. Through the doorway, the ginger-haired form of one Percy Weasley, Chief Secretary to the Minister for Magic, appeared, a slight smile on his slightly freckled face.
"Dear me!" He leaned closer and whispered, almost conspiratorially, "You do realize, my dear fellow, that you could be heard clear across the hall?" He paused and winked, almost as Fred might have done (were he still alive). "I don't think it would do for anyone to lose their notions that a) Barristers are always able to suppress their emotions and b) they are always in control of everything."
The younger wizard relaxed a bit, and chuckled wryly as they stepped into the hall. "Wouldn't that be nice… but still, if they believe that," and then, smiling himself, "who am I to dissuade them?"
Percy laughed, quipping, "True, and I bet it's quite useful in, err, other matters, eh? The whole 'calm-and-in-charge' bit… very persuasive! Welcome back, by the way."
"Thank you kindly, Secretary Weasley," he returned stiffly.
As if sensing his discomfort, the latter moved to leave. "Well, I really must be going. If you ever need anything, just let me know, my friend."
"It was a pleasure, Percy."
"A pleasure for me as well," the Secretary said genially as he headed for the lift at the south of the hall.
Feeling somewhat relieved, Michael A. Corner SMC smoothed down his robes and headed swiftly down the next corridor, back towards his familiar office in what was officially known as the *cue sound of throat clearing* International Magical Office of Justice- Jurisprudence, Litigation, and Legal Representation Department (Britain Division).
A sigh, betraying mixed emotions, escaped the former Ravenclaw as he stepped at last across the threshold of the wing housing the aforementioned Department. After nearly nicking his head on the ostentatious scripted sign over the doorway, Michael had begun to wonder if all this time abroad had really made him lose his touch. For, after all, in the words of a venerable philosopher whose name escaped him at that moment, "There are times when the camel's back may yet break under a mountain of dust mites." I may well be growing a bit balmy upstairs," he thought, with more than a little chagrin. Old Sam Charrington's voice, echoing through a memory from his first day on the job, could almost be heard, remarking brusquely, "Do remember to watch out for the bloody sign, young man!"
He chuckled softly, remarking aloud, "Perhaps all this study has fogged up my brain a bit..."
"There's no doubt about that one, Mike," came a laugh-punctuated reply.
Michael spun around. He should have known… that was called 'leaving himself wide open'! He smiled broadly. "I must say, Mr. Chang, your impertinence distinguishes you most extraordinarily."
David Chang's grin rivalled that of the vaunted feline of Cheshire. "Never mind that your brain was most certainly fogged up beforehand… welcome back," (here he paused for comic effect) "Mister Corner."
The eldest son of the Corner clan feigned a reach for his wand, laughing. "I'd nearly forgotten what life is like with you around to liven things up, my friend." Michael then moved to give him a hearty slap on the back. "How have you been without me to keep you in line?"
"Oh, causing slightly more trouble than usual..."
"For eight months? The office must have been a sight to behold."
David smiled as only a Chang could, brown eyes twinkling all the while. "Well, aside from sabotaging Justin's QuickWrite and Flatulus-charming Sheldon's desk chair-"
"I don't think I want to know the gory details," Michael interrupted cooly, while struggling to keep a straight face.
"Oh, that's right, you're an SMC now, and can no longer associate with the likes of me," David said, pretending to be offended.
"Hmm... After all we've been through... not a chance!"
Amid the banter, Michael thought back to when they first met, remembering David's third-year voice threatening to hex him into oblivion if he laid a hand on "my big sister". This, of course, referred to David's older sister Cho, whom Michael had been dating at the time. This awkward incident aside, they became fast friends- friends close enough that David was able to help him through his difficult break-up with that very same Cho about a year and a half ago. It was really quite extraordinary, that is, if you asked Michael A. Corner SMC.
Another voice hissed softly, interrupting his trend of thought. "Hey, David- we're ready!"
"Oh, bugger," David snapped, embarrassed. "You did have to spoil the surprise, didn't you?"
"Ah, well," observed a smiling Katie Bell from the hallway, "since Dennis has already let the 'cat out of the bag', we might as well get things underway. You can come out of hiding, everyone!"
Michael gave David a sidelong glance, feigning alarm. "Uh, David... does that mean what I think it means?"
The cat's grin widened. "You might say that..."
All at once, many different jets of red light flew toward Michael from the wands of his colleagues concealed throughout the foyer and main hallway, as at least twenty voices shouted, "Levicorpus!"