Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: PG-13 (Language)

Words: ~3.2k

Summary: Casting shows. The bane of my existence. Who the ** was the idiot who thought up the idea of casting for Britain's Next Top-Auror? With me, Harry Potter, as the judge?

A/N:

Something amusing I came up with because I was getting fed up with the ever-increasing number of casting shows dumbing down prime-time television. Probably going to be 3-4 chapters, but I can't promise a fast updating pace. Please excuse my thorough use of American English – don't know enough about British slang to make this sound credible. So I decided to stick with what I know, and I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless!

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Britain's Next Top-Auror

Chapter 1

Casting shows. The bane of my existence. Who the hell was the idiot who thought up the idea of casting for Britain's Next Top-Auror?

I think they should be shot. No, that's too easy. Medieval methods are more appropriate. Drawn and quartered!

And of course, they somehow managed to rope me into it as one of the producers. How? I still don't know. I think that it's all a big conspiracy thought up by my very dear friend Hermione. Well, the 'dear' part is debatable. At the moment, I'm not very charitable towards her. And I have the sinking suspicion (well, actually I know) that those medieval execution methods should be pointed her way.

I mean, how many purebloods do you know who would think up something as ridiculous as a casting show? A casting show that is, surely by coincidence, the very first show that runs on the Wizarding Watcher, a magical TV-ersatz constructed by the one and only Hermione Weasley?

Yes, I'm quite sure that you all agree with me that evidence is somewhat overwhelming.

I tried to talk her and the Creeveys out of it (yes, those two creepy crawly little buggers who followed me around Hogwarts all the time). Sure, wizarding society can learn a lot from muggles. But do we really have to take all the crap together with the good?

That… that absolute idiocy of trying to find a good auror in front of a running camera (well, the Wireless Watcher doesn't use a camera to record the pictures, but let's go with it for simplicity's sake)… To be honest, I really, really pity the guy who wins that thing. Because the guaranteed spot on an Auror Team will get him (or her, shouldn't forget that there are also girls applying for this crap) the stigma of not being able to make it on their own the traditional way.

I tried to tell that to Hermione, but she just waved my concerns aside. Not important, she said. She needs the publicity this show will generate to get the Wizarding Watcher accepted by the general populace. I was like 'huh?' and 'what?' – I'd never seen such a ruthless streak in her before. Maybe she's that way 'cause the Wizarding Watcher is her brainchild. Maybe it's 'cause she's been trying to modernize the wizarding world, get rid of prejudice towards muggleborns, and turn the ministry into a democracy, all by herself.

Yes, SPEW cubed. If you give her half a chance, she'll talk your ear off. It's a wonder I still have the two of mine attached as often as she uses me to vent some of her idealistic steam. I wonder how Ron stands it, but I guess that's love for you.

She's kind of single-handedly trying to revolutionize the wizarding world, and the Wizarding Watcher would be a great step in the right direction.

So I tried to approach her from the side that really hurts: publicity. For a casting show, you first need people to cast. You need a big enough group from which you can start selecting. And the wizarding world is small. An optimistic estimate says that there are maybe 5000 fully trained wizards in Britain. Just how many of those are willing to acknowledge something as inherently muggle as a casting show, and are wiling to participate on top of it? My guess is that if she finds twenty candidates, she's as lucky as Merlin in Paradise.

Ah, but that's apparently where I come in. She told me that my name holds enough power to make or break the show, and those thrice-cursed Creeveys nodded to her every word like it was the gospel. So, being the good friend I am, I surely wouldn't mind helping her out, would I? After all, I hadn't minded helping her out in some other situations, which might be a bit embarrassing when leaked to the press.

This time, my 'huh's and 'what's died in my throat so that I could go straight to the gaping part. At least the Creevey brothers had the grace to look ashamed, but I could still see the hope on their faces. Gah. Determined Resolve-face from Herm, puppy-eyes from the Creeveys, and not very subtle blackmail in the air. How could I do anything but agree?

At least I managed to talk them out of naming this farce 'Britain's Next Harry Potter'.

Well, that's basically how I found myself on the planning committee for BNTA less than a week later. Shouldn't have caved that easily. I mean, come on, first they go and recruit me for such a wild cause, and then they tell me that, actually, they don't even know yet how exactly they're gonna do it?

Well, yes, they did know how to do it, but the problem was that everyone had their own opinions on the details. Hermione wanted viewer percentage. Dennis wanted action. Colin wanted cool, strong guys and hot young chicks. Eternally clueless Ron, who had been drafted as our resident expert on everything wizard, wanted to know what was going on.

And there I was at the center of the bedlam, and everyone was looking at me like I was the envoy of magic herself.

Even now, looking back at things, I sometimes ask myself how in the world it came to this. That's like a complete role reversal of the Golden Trio. Hermione didn't have it all planned out to ridiculous detail, Ron didn't think up any strategies, and I didn't get to play the role of slightly awkward, emotion-driven fool who jumps off the deep end before he looks whether there's even any water down there.

Then again, some things always stay the same: Hermione's bossy, Ron's clueless, and I'm the one who's supposed to miraculously save the day. Story of my life.

It took us about a month to hash out the basic concept – everyone except for Hermione's got another job, so we could only meet after work hours. And, being an Auror, my work hours are a pain. Night shift, being on call, work on weekends, overtime, training. Add to that a wife and three children, and you've got a busy life.

Actually, Ginny kind of invited herself on the planning committee within the week. Either she overheard something or Ron blabbed, because I sure as hell hadn't said anything. Too embarrassed being caught using my face for such nefarious purposes.

Of course, Ginny didn't see it that way at all. I'm still not sure how much of it is her swallowing Herm's diatribe and how much of it is getting to show off me, her dearest husband. But she was completely, one hundred percent behind it, contributing what the teenage witch would expect from a show like this.

The first time she brought up that aspect, my already sinking feeling turned into free-fall.

One word: fan-girls.

During my teenage years, it was bad enough being known as the Boy-Who-Lived. But now that I've also gained the title of Defeater of Voldemort, I rarely leave the house without notice-me-not charms or glamours. Wherever I show my face, everyone goes like 'Aw cool, it's Harry Potter, the Defeater of Voldemort! Thanks so much for delivering us from evil, and, by the way, I want to bear your children!' (If they're male, the children part is exchanged either for a compliment on my dueling technique or a wish to be just like me – better, but still annoying).

But fangirls really are the worst. They don't even get to the talking part, they just rush in, try to touch me, then squeal and faint.

Seriously.

Ginny told me that I have my own section in Witch Weekly, the Teenage Witch, and even the Daily Prophet. Every now and then, I'm forced to publicly disclaim some ridiculous rumor that could cause serious harm (like the one where I allegedly had a child with Eileen something-or-other).

Most of the time though, I try to keep out of public notice. Ginny doesn't see it that way – she kind of likes showing off that she succeeded where others didn't. She knows me and my dislike of fame too well to actively do something like that to me, but the casting show gives her the ideal opportunity without laying blame on her. How come that everyone's against me on that point?

At the end of the month, we finally were done with the planning. Our concept stood (candidates having to do some ridiculous tasks that, on the first glance look like Auror exercises but don't really have any practical value), our selection criteria stood (good performance, good potential for growth, good entertainment value, good looks – the last ones were insisted on by Ginny and the two Creeveys and took the place of good attitude, a much more important criterion in my opinion), and everyone got handed their jobs.

Hermione is organization and management. The Creeveys are responsible for the broadcast. Ginny and Ron, to everyone's surprise, are the PR team. And moi? Besides being judge, jury, and executioner for the candidates, I get to look good and smile like I really want to see what Britain's Next Top-Auror looks like.

Brilliant, I know.

At least they let me choose two other 'experts' who are going to judge the candidates together with me.

My first go-to man would have been Remus. But sadly, he had already been planned in as a prop for the 'subdue werewolf without harming him' exercise. Scratch him off the list. Alastor Moody – the man doesn't know the meaning of moderation. He'd throw out everyone just on principle. Hermione nevertheless enlisted him because, in her words, 'he's a hard-ass fucker who says what he means and says it harsh enough to create some real drama'.

Letting me choose my co-judges on my own, eh?

I suppose I should be happy that she didn't give me Woodsworth, the head of law enforcement, to work with. Would have been really awkward to stand on the same stage as my boss and know that, effectively, I'd have to oppose him at some points and might even end up having to go completely against his orders. Definitely not good for someone trained in a military hierarchy. If the Head of Law Enforcement had still been Amelia Bones, I might have considered her. Sadly she was killed during the second war against Voldemort, because Woodsworth is one of those men who think they have to bluster and let their muscles play so that they can compete with the Boy Who Lived, Defeater of Voldemort.

So that still left me with the problem of finding a third judge.

One of my co-workers? Not enough fame to give their opinion any weight in the eye of the public. An Auror trainer? That's Moody's role. An Unspeakable? The mystery that surrounds them probably would make a great impression on the public, but basically they're extreme-researchers.

It's incredible working with one of them, seeing the way they whiz up stuff out of nothing. Incidentally, Hermione is one of them. Some of them can even be quite handy out in the field, but they aren't trained to deal with combat situations like we Aurors are. Their whole mind-set and emphasis is different from ours.

In short: no Unspeakable on the board.

Can't use a dueling expert, either. Once again, not what an Auror needs to be successful. Hah, just imagine a team of Aurors trying to apprehend a criminal while sticking to the Tournament Rules of 1879. They demand one-on-one combat, prohibit the use of anything but magic, and have an honor-code so long that it could rival the British Constitution. 'Dear Sir Criminal, I hereby challenge you to a duel for the right of apprehending you. If you were so kind as to step into the circle over there, we could begin. You are not permitted to use lethal force or target below the belt. You may not use a second wand or any other weapons you currently have on your body. Oh, and if you are forced out of these bounds, you automatically lose.'

Like that's ever going to work.

A Defense against the Dark Arts expert? Would be great – if there was a job like that, that is. There are specialists in individual métiers, but the only real all-rounders are Aurors. And that's why Hogwarts has always had so much trouble finding DADA instructors who are knowledgeable in those myriads of aspects that are taught throughout all seven years.

Nope, I was stuck getting another Auror. But damn it if I knew another capable one who also holds the necessary public acclaim and can be trusted to not just repeat my opinion. I needed someone rational and calm because one Moody is going to be bad enough. Ideally, the person should be female so that we can get out of any gender-bias claims.

There are exactly five women in Britain's Auror force (well, six if you count Tonks, but half the time she walks around as a hermaphrodite or simply male, showing off her powers as metamorphmagus. Makes for hell of a sex life though, Remus told me). Two of them are combat medics, and the other three some underlings amongst the regular patrol. I briefly thought about getting a combat medic, both because they also are an aspect of our Auror force, and because they are quite good at spotting weaknesses in fighters. I myself have been dressed down by my team's medic more than once for 'foolish, reckless behavior that I somehow managed to survive despite all odds – again'.

Ah, yes, that is something I maybe should mention: there are more or less two kinds of Aurors – the good ones, and the really good ones. The good ones are the ones on patrol duty, low-risk guard duty, low-risk round-up of criminals, basically everything a muggle police officer is supposed to deal with. They're called 'Regs', and most of the time, they work in pairs. An experienced senior, and someone younger who's not that experienced.

But of course, if I have taken the time to differentiate the good from the really good, the really good won't be sent on Reg duty (except as punishment, but that's another kettle of fish – believe me, I speak from experience).

Nope, the better ones of the Regs – those who have especially high marks on combat training – may try out for one of the Teams. The Teams are trained to be something more along the lines of muggle Special Forces. Not with the aspect of Black Ops, but rather SWAT teams, or whatever the Americans call them nowadays. Intervention in hostile situations, raids of big criminal organizations, high-risk assignments. Teams consist of four to eight members who train together to form a cohesive unit and are prepared to deal with anything from hostage situations to Dark Artifact riddled manors (no pun intended) to full-out terrorist attacks.

Thanks to my fame and accomplishments, I was immediately boosted to a Team spot. After all, on the Horcrux hunt, I pretty much did the same work already without the benefit of a well-trained Team.

There were a few bad tongues who tried to insinuate that I got that immediate placement through some other means than skill. But nobody complained very much after the Team I was on rose to the most successful one in the whole Auror Corps. And nobody said a word when old Patterson decided Team life was too hectic for him, and I took his spot as Team Leader.

Of course, Hermione is insane enough to want to cast not for the Regs but straight for the Teams. How she got Woodworth, the de facto head of Aurors (Miley, the one who's supposed to do the job, sucks up to him so much that it's easier to go to Woodworth immediately and spare yourself the sucking), to agree I'll never know. But in the end, that means that I'll have to be able to trust the new, green-as-grass Top-Auror to have my back in a hostile situation.

And that also meant that maybe getting a combat medic wouldn't be so bad of an idea – they're quite attentive when it concerns someone they might have to spell together on the field one day. Not because they care about people and their welfare, but because they are the ones who have to fill out those endless pages of casualty reports. Believe me, combat medics are some of the most callous people I've ever seen.

In the end, I went for Muriel MacKinsey, one of the two female combat-medics and a metamorphmagus, too. True metamorphmagi have some serious skills in self-healing, seeing as they can just morph wounds away until they can afford to go to a healer. A lesser-known skill of metamorphmagi is an uncanny ability of spotting glamours, self-transfigurations, and other changes a wizard might make to their appearance. The candidates will have a hard time impressing her with their stealth skills.

Moody even congratulated me for my choice. Not sure whether that's good or bad.

Anyway.

Once I had my judges, all three of us had to suffer through recording several teasers, previews, and commercials. I should have bloody well demanded money for that! I think we did the BNTA intro skit half a gazillion times before Creevey – the younger one – was satisfied with the lighting, Ginny with our expression, and Creevey – the older – had enough takes to cut something "awe-inspiring and suitably grandilicious". Hermione's words, not Creevey's. I think she's using this project to make up for years and years of lost fan-girling opportunities.

Then there was the promotion tour through Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even Hogwarts. The less said about that one, the better. Just three words:

I. Hate. Fan-girls.

My new revelation from that day: Male fan-girls are worse than female ones, after all. Mad-eye didn't stop laughing the entire way.

To be honest, I'm really, really glad that all those preparations are over now, and that tonight's the grand occasion: The Selection, Episode One of Britain's Next Top-Auror.

Finally. I think that if I have to give another interview to whoever Hermione thinks is important enough, I'm going to scream. (Not that I think I won't be swimming in interview requests afterwards, but at least I'll have something else to talk about than 'sorry, not allowed to say, going to be a surprise, buy a Wizarding Watcher and wait for the broadcast'. Aggressive marketing at its finest.)

Hope and pray that everything goes well, and that we aren't going to be lynched before we can think about shooting the second episode.

After all, we're going to be live.