Title: Toxin
Disclaimer: Simply borrowing...
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Chapter: One - Omnium rerum principia parva sunt
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A/N: Right off the bat, let me thank my wonderful beta, Lynette, who goes by Munku-JGSPTV. My apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes we might not have caught; the program I use has been acting up and isn't correcting any of those mistakes. Oh, one more thing. Each chapter title will be in Latin (if you read my other fic, you'll see that I have a fascination with this language, which so unfortunatly is no longer spoken: "Sola lingua bona est lingua mortua" - The only good language is a dead language). There will be a reference to it in the story (the English translation). If you want, you can guess what it means, or simply read the definition in next chapter's A/N. Also, most of my names have meanings behind them. If you're interested, please ask. I've rambled on long enough. Enjoy! and please review!
--
"Harry, Ron! You've got to wake up! You're going to be late!" Hermione's yells flew through the spacious rooms of the still somewhat bland house.
The trio had graduated from Hogwarts a little over three years ago. As soon as they had left Hogwarts, they purchased a little house in Hogsmeade. Harry began Auror training, Ron followed his father's footsteps and took a job in the Ministry of Magic, albeit in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Hermione took over Professor Flitwick's position of Charms professor at Hogwarts.
Just one month ago, Harry finally completed Auror training. After an annual visit to the Dursley's which lasted a mere fortnight and a small vacation to Northern Europe where, much to Ron's dismay, they had Viktor Krum as a tour guide, their mundane lives resumed.
"Harry! It's your first day! Do you really want to be late?" Hermione shrieked. "And Ron! Get your arse up before I have to call your father to get you to work! Do you know how embarassed he must be?"
Harry turned over in bed and threw a pillow over his head. Less than a minute later, Hermione, her hair still wet from her early morning shower, charged in.
"Evanesco!" she bellowed. The downy pillow that had previously shielded Harry's ears from his best friend's cries vanished into thin air.
"Hermione!" Harry whined. "Go bug Ron."
Hermione released an indignant "hmph!" and stormed out of the room, slamming a frating green door which Harry had long since wished to repaint, but hadn't really ever gotten around to.
Five minutes later, a furious Hermione walked through Harry's door once more.
"Harry, you have five seconds to get your arse out of that bed!" she warned.
"Or what?" Harry replied groggily.
"5.... 4.... 3.... 2.... 1.... Rictusempra!"
Harry started giggling uncontrollably.
"Her... mione... I'm... up!... stop... this... now!" Harry managed to splutter.
Hermione muttered the counter spell and stood in the doorway until Harry climbed out of bed. Harry's eyes were barely open and his hair, if possible, was even more unruly than ever before.
"How have you not yet freezed to death, I do not know," Hermione muttered under her breath, referring to Harry's only garb being a pair of black boxers and two very different socks, as she left the room for the second time that morning.
Harry rolled his eyes in a childish manner then dragged his feet to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, removed a green and yellow striped sock, took of his boxers, and stepped into the chilly water. It took him a few moments to register that he was still wearing a black and silver polka- dotted sock on his left foot. Groaning, he leaned down and removed it. Half an hour later, he rushed down to the breakfast Hermione had prepared; bacon and eggs.
"Ron still not up?" Harry asked and frustrated Hermione.
"Does it look like he's up?" she snapped.
Harry grabbed a piece of toast and ran back upstairs. He opened Ron's door to find the red head sprawled out on the floor in a tangle of sheets. Harry couldn't hold back a fit of laughter. Once he had regained his composure however, he moved to Ron's bathroom. Trying very hard to avoid tripping over one of the many piles of dirty clothes, he turned on the water.
"Mobiliaqua," he muttered, directing his wand at the flowing liquid. Harry slowly moved his wand and the water followed on the same path. Concentrating, Harry walked out of the bathroom, nearly tripping on a tie, and approached the lightly snoring man.
Harry jerked his wand and laughed as the water he had been levitating poured on the previously sleeping, and now extremely wet and annoyed Ron.
Ron jumped up and immediately Harry brought his hand up to his eyes.
"Since when do you sleep in the nude?" Harry complained, backing away towards the door. "And Hermione complains about me..."
"Everything has a small beginning," Ron said hopefully.
Hermione was just leaving to walk to teach her first class of the year when a fully clothed Ron stumbled down the stairs. He saw Harry and was just about to hex him when Hermione stepped in front of him. For a moment, Harry was sure he saw Ron's eyes flicker in surprise.
"Hermione, you look, erm, are you sure you should be dressing so, well, err, hot? I mean, you know what kids are like," Ron clumsly spilled out his thoughts. "I mean, err, good luck."
"Harry, was that a compliment on Ron's part?" she grinned.
She hugged Ron and then Harry then left. Ron stared at the closed door long after Hermione had gone. Harry couldn't really blame him. Hermione's previously uncontrollablly bushy hair had matured into gorgeous waves of milk chocolate colored strands which framed her feminine face. Her honey brown eyes seemed to release a sense of wisdom hidden beneath a stunning façade. Her cheeks were accentuated by a streak of rose color from the chilly air. Strangely, it only seemed to hit Ron at that moment.
"Ron, we're gonna be late. Are you going to continue drooling over your best friend and skip breakfast or should I save you some food?" Harry jolted Ron out of his daze.
"I'll have a cheese pie," Ron said stupidly.
Harry gave Ron a curious look then turned back to his bacon. When they finished their food, Harry "scourgify-ed" the kitchen and two men apparated into the Ministry of Magic.
They both squeezed into the elevator. After some random small talk, Harry got out on the second floor, and Ron got out five levels later. Slightly late, Harry rushed into a very busy room filled with cubicles and numerous pictures of various wizards. At the very back, a total of six wizards and witches were gathered. Five of them, including Harry, looked very anxious. The last looked very bored.
"Welcome to Auror Headquarters. No doubt you are highly qualified to stand here right now. I will expect the same dedication you five have shown me in training to be apparent every single day that you come to work," a familiar face spoke eloquently.
Harry looked up to meet a very round, very blue, and very erratic eye. His lips split into a grin. Although Moody didn't visibly smile, Harry could feel the pride of the slightly paranoid man. Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody had returned to work for the ministry when Arthur Weasly had taken up the post of Minister of Magic at the beginning of Harry's sixth year. Five years had since passed.
"If I understand correctly, none of you have previously met. Introductions are up to you," Moody growled. "You will find that your cubicle has instructions on what you will be doing today. Get to work!"
Moody clunked away slowly. The newly appointed Aurors faced each other.
A small man timidly introduced himself.
"Hi. My name is Randus Skelin," he mumbled almost incoherently.
"Hi, Guinevere Dugarmon," a pretty, black haired witch confidently stated.
"Hello, I'm Ava Ortnair Rouge," a brunette with slightly overly bushy eyebrows spoke up.
Harry and the last woman looked at each other. They seemed to have a little battle with their eyes as to who would speak up next. The woman's garnet colored lips parted slightly and then formed into a smile. Harry's stomach did a little flip. His hand brushed through his hair in a manner so similar to what Harry saw his father do so in Snape's memory so many years ago.
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you," Harry finally spoke, not taking his eyes off the dazzling pallid skinned woman. He could feel the Skelin, Dugarmon, and Rouge slide their eyes upward to his forehead.
"No, the pleasure is all mine. Oliana Kalipso," her round, evergreen eyes stayed on Harry's emerald ones.
Harry swallowed hard.
"Well, we'd best get to work," Harry said, with more confidence than he felt.
"Yes, you're right. Where's your desk?" she answered. Harry noted a Greek accent.
"That one at the end."
"Oh, mine's on the other side," she said, a trace of disappointment in her voice. "Well, I'll see you around then."
"Yes, definatly," Harry replied with a boyish grin.
Harry took a seat at his desk with a release of breath. His hand swept through his hair once more and then he opened a folder and started reading.
Harry met up with Ron at 2 in the afternoon later the day at the Leaky Cauldron. They each ordered a firewhiskey and sat down at a table.
"Well, I just found out that England's hosting the next World Cup! We've got loads and loads of work to sort out now. That idiot Bagman didn't leave any instructions after he ran. We're all at a loss about what to begin with! Can you believe it, mate?" Ron prattled.
"Hold on, even with Voldemort?" Harry furrowed his forehead.
Ron nodded perceptively and continued talking.
At the end of Harry's seventh year, he had another encounter with Voldemort. Harry had managed to hurt enough so that he was forced to stop his attacks. Before that, attacks on muggles were quite popular and the entire war had almost gone into full-fledged mode. Harry knew why he wasn't able to kill Voldemort. The words constantly rang in his head.
"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really cause pain--to enjoy it-- righteous anger won't hurt me for long..." Bellatrix LeStrange, the woman who killed Sirius, derided him. Harry did mean it, but he didn't enjoy it. He hadn't wanted to be the one. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry had never forgiven Professor Trelawney for the prophecy she had made.
While Ron had been yacking on and on, a whole hour had flown by.
"Aw, shit. We're going to be late, again," Harry interrupted Ron.
With a loud crack that the other patrons chose to ignore, the two apparated back to the Ministry after plonking down a couple of coins. --
Disclaimer: Simply borrowing...
--
Chapter: One - Omnium rerum principia parva sunt
--
A/N: Right off the bat, let me thank my wonderful beta, Lynette, who goes by Munku-JGSPTV. My apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes we might not have caught; the program I use has been acting up and isn't correcting any of those mistakes. Oh, one more thing. Each chapter title will be in Latin (if you read my other fic, you'll see that I have a fascination with this language, which so unfortunatly is no longer spoken: "Sola lingua bona est lingua mortua" - The only good language is a dead language). There will be a reference to it in the story (the English translation). If you want, you can guess what it means, or simply read the definition in next chapter's A/N. Also, most of my names have meanings behind them. If you're interested, please ask. I've rambled on long enough. Enjoy! and please review!
--
"Harry, Ron! You've got to wake up! You're going to be late!" Hermione's yells flew through the spacious rooms of the still somewhat bland house.
The trio had graduated from Hogwarts a little over three years ago. As soon as they had left Hogwarts, they purchased a little house in Hogsmeade. Harry began Auror training, Ron followed his father's footsteps and took a job in the Ministry of Magic, albeit in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and Hermione took over Professor Flitwick's position of Charms professor at Hogwarts.
Just one month ago, Harry finally completed Auror training. After an annual visit to the Dursley's which lasted a mere fortnight and a small vacation to Northern Europe where, much to Ron's dismay, they had Viktor Krum as a tour guide, their mundane lives resumed.
"Harry! It's your first day! Do you really want to be late?" Hermione shrieked. "And Ron! Get your arse up before I have to call your father to get you to work! Do you know how embarassed he must be?"
Harry turned over in bed and threw a pillow over his head. Less than a minute later, Hermione, her hair still wet from her early morning shower, charged in.
"Evanesco!" she bellowed. The downy pillow that had previously shielded Harry's ears from his best friend's cries vanished into thin air.
"Hermione!" Harry whined. "Go bug Ron."
Hermione released an indignant "hmph!" and stormed out of the room, slamming a frating green door which Harry had long since wished to repaint, but hadn't really ever gotten around to.
Five minutes later, a furious Hermione walked through Harry's door once more.
"Harry, you have five seconds to get your arse out of that bed!" she warned.
"Or what?" Harry replied groggily.
"5.... 4.... 3.... 2.... 1.... Rictusempra!"
Harry started giggling uncontrollably.
"Her... mione... I'm... up!... stop... this... now!" Harry managed to splutter.
Hermione muttered the counter spell and stood in the doorway until Harry climbed out of bed. Harry's eyes were barely open and his hair, if possible, was even more unruly than ever before.
"How have you not yet freezed to death, I do not know," Hermione muttered under her breath, referring to Harry's only garb being a pair of black boxers and two very different socks, as she left the room for the second time that morning.
Harry rolled his eyes in a childish manner then dragged his feet to the bathroom. He turned on the shower, removed a green and yellow striped sock, took of his boxers, and stepped into the chilly water. It took him a few moments to register that he was still wearing a black and silver polka- dotted sock on his left foot. Groaning, he leaned down and removed it. Half an hour later, he rushed down to the breakfast Hermione had prepared; bacon and eggs.
"Ron still not up?" Harry asked and frustrated Hermione.
"Does it look like he's up?" she snapped.
Harry grabbed a piece of toast and ran back upstairs. He opened Ron's door to find the red head sprawled out on the floor in a tangle of sheets. Harry couldn't hold back a fit of laughter. Once he had regained his composure however, he moved to Ron's bathroom. Trying very hard to avoid tripping over one of the many piles of dirty clothes, he turned on the water.
"Mobiliaqua," he muttered, directing his wand at the flowing liquid. Harry slowly moved his wand and the water followed on the same path. Concentrating, Harry walked out of the bathroom, nearly tripping on a tie, and approached the lightly snoring man.
Harry jerked his wand and laughed as the water he had been levitating poured on the previously sleeping, and now extremely wet and annoyed Ron.
Ron jumped up and immediately Harry brought his hand up to his eyes.
"Since when do you sleep in the nude?" Harry complained, backing away towards the door. "And Hermione complains about me..."
"Everything has a small beginning," Ron said hopefully.
Hermione was just leaving to walk to teach her first class of the year when a fully clothed Ron stumbled down the stairs. He saw Harry and was just about to hex him when Hermione stepped in front of him. For a moment, Harry was sure he saw Ron's eyes flicker in surprise.
"Hermione, you look, erm, are you sure you should be dressing so, well, err, hot? I mean, you know what kids are like," Ron clumsly spilled out his thoughts. "I mean, err, good luck."
"Harry, was that a compliment on Ron's part?" she grinned.
She hugged Ron and then Harry then left. Ron stared at the closed door long after Hermione had gone. Harry couldn't really blame him. Hermione's previously uncontrollablly bushy hair had matured into gorgeous waves of milk chocolate colored strands which framed her feminine face. Her honey brown eyes seemed to release a sense of wisdom hidden beneath a stunning façade. Her cheeks were accentuated by a streak of rose color from the chilly air. Strangely, it only seemed to hit Ron at that moment.
"Ron, we're gonna be late. Are you going to continue drooling over your best friend and skip breakfast or should I save you some food?" Harry jolted Ron out of his daze.
"I'll have a cheese pie," Ron said stupidly.
Harry gave Ron a curious look then turned back to his bacon. When they finished their food, Harry "scourgify-ed" the kitchen and two men apparated into the Ministry of Magic.
They both squeezed into the elevator. After some random small talk, Harry got out on the second floor, and Ron got out five levels later. Slightly late, Harry rushed into a very busy room filled with cubicles and numerous pictures of various wizards. At the very back, a total of six wizards and witches were gathered. Five of them, including Harry, looked very anxious. The last looked very bored.
"Welcome to Auror Headquarters. No doubt you are highly qualified to stand here right now. I will expect the same dedication you five have shown me in training to be apparent every single day that you come to work," a familiar face spoke eloquently.
Harry looked up to meet a very round, very blue, and very erratic eye. His lips split into a grin. Although Moody didn't visibly smile, Harry could feel the pride of the slightly paranoid man. Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody had returned to work for the ministry when Arthur Weasly had taken up the post of Minister of Magic at the beginning of Harry's sixth year. Five years had since passed.
"If I understand correctly, none of you have previously met. Introductions are up to you," Moody growled. "You will find that your cubicle has instructions on what you will be doing today. Get to work!"
Moody clunked away slowly. The newly appointed Aurors faced each other.
A small man timidly introduced himself.
"Hi. My name is Randus Skelin," he mumbled almost incoherently.
"Hi, Guinevere Dugarmon," a pretty, black haired witch confidently stated.
"Hello, I'm Ava Ortnair Rouge," a brunette with slightly overly bushy eyebrows spoke up.
Harry and the last woman looked at each other. They seemed to have a little battle with their eyes as to who would speak up next. The woman's garnet colored lips parted slightly and then formed into a smile. Harry's stomach did a little flip. His hand brushed through his hair in a manner so similar to what Harry saw his father do so in Snape's memory so many years ago.
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you," Harry finally spoke, not taking his eyes off the dazzling pallid skinned woman. He could feel the Skelin, Dugarmon, and Rouge slide their eyes upward to his forehead.
"No, the pleasure is all mine. Oliana Kalipso," her round, evergreen eyes stayed on Harry's emerald ones.
Harry swallowed hard.
"Well, we'd best get to work," Harry said, with more confidence than he felt.
"Yes, you're right. Where's your desk?" she answered. Harry noted a Greek accent.
"That one at the end."
"Oh, mine's on the other side," she said, a trace of disappointment in her voice. "Well, I'll see you around then."
"Yes, definatly," Harry replied with a boyish grin.
Harry took a seat at his desk with a release of breath. His hand swept through his hair once more and then he opened a folder and started reading.
Harry met up with Ron at 2 in the afternoon later the day at the Leaky Cauldron. They each ordered a firewhiskey and sat down at a table.
"Well, I just found out that England's hosting the next World Cup! We've got loads and loads of work to sort out now. That idiot Bagman didn't leave any instructions after he ran. We're all at a loss about what to begin with! Can you believe it, mate?" Ron prattled.
"Hold on, even with Voldemort?" Harry furrowed his forehead.
Ron nodded perceptively and continued talking.
At the end of Harry's seventh year, he had another encounter with Voldemort. Harry had managed to hurt enough so that he was forced to stop his attacks. Before that, attacks on muggles were quite popular and the entire war had almost gone into full-fledged mode. Harry knew why he wasn't able to kill Voldemort. The words constantly rang in his head.
"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy? You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really cause pain--to enjoy it-- righteous anger won't hurt me for long..." Bellatrix LeStrange, the woman who killed Sirius, derided him. Harry did mean it, but he didn't enjoy it. He hadn't wanted to be the one. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry had never forgiven Professor Trelawney for the prophecy she had made.
While Ron had been yacking on and on, a whole hour had flown by.
"Aw, shit. We're going to be late, again," Harry interrupted Ron.
With a loud crack that the other patrons chose to ignore, the two apparated back to the Ministry after plonking down a couple of coins. --