The night before Auror training was due to commence, Harry had barely slept, though Kingsley, Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the people who supported him kept trying to reassure him that he would do fine. Ron was just as nervous, though, so the two friends had spent the evening together, trying to relax. Their efforts had worked, but only for a short while, at least for Harry.

When his alarm clock rang, Harry rolled over with an exhausted groan. After about twenty seconds of the relentless call of the alarm, he sighed with frustration and turned it off, forcing himself out of bed. He hoped that his lack of sleep wasn't an omen.

Harry got dressed in his uniform and tried to arrange his hair, though his attempt was, as always, unsuccessful. Giving up on his hair, and much too nervous to eat anything, he pocketed his wand before making his way outside, locking the door behind him. Making sure nobody was watching, he took a few steps away from the door and, taking a deep breath, Disapparated.

He landed near the Ministry doors, though he wouldn't be going in. He sighed and swallowed as he made his way past the large building and toward its rear, where the expansive training fields were. He could see a few other young men already there, dressed in the same clothing he was wearing. Though both genders could become Aurors, it was a predominantly male wizard career, with only a select few women desiring to go through training. Somewhat apart from the milling group of young trainees, a group of Aurors huddled together, murmuring quietly. _No doubt they're the ones in charge of the _training, Harry thought.

"Hey, Harry!" one of the trainees called, grinning. It was Neville Longbottom.

"Hey, Neville!" Harry called back as he jogged over to his friend.

"All right?" Neville inquired.

"Yeah, I suppose... You?"

"A little nervous, but I'll live."

Harry allowed himself a slight chuckle as he nodded sympathetically.

"Is Ron coming?"

"He should be. I was with him last night." Just as Harry had finished speaking, he spotted a redheaded figure hurrying toward them.

"Am I late?"

"Nope," Harry answered with a grin. "I only just got here." Ron exhaled, looking immensely relieved. For a while, the three friends stood together, their lack of deep conversation a reflection of how nervous they truly were. A few others had arrived after Ron had, and, after nearly three quarters of an hour, one of the Aurors strode out into the middle of the field and faced the trainees. He cleared his throat, and the murmur of conversation died away almost instantly. Once he was sure he held everyone's attention, the Auror spoke.

"Good morning, all of you. On behalf of the Minister of Magic, my fellow comrades and I would like to welcome you to your first day of Auror training. I am Bailey Stewart. I will be responsible for assisting you with your training during your first year."

This didn't really surprise Harry. Bailey was tall and stocky, about three inches taller than himself. He seemed to radiate confidence, which was something Harry had noticed almost as instantly as he had spoken. Bailey talked for nearly twenty minutes, explaining, in greater detail, how the next few months would progress. Several of the young men fidgeted, obviously becoming worried. Bailey didn't sugar coat anything; he said that although the war was over, there wasn't any need to relax the laws that were being enforced or to make training any less stringent. Harry's own nerves heightened, though he did his best to conceal it. By the time they were due to start their fitness and endurance exercises, there was a knot in Harry's stomach.

Ron rubbed his hands together anxiously and murmured to Neville and Harry, "What d'you think?"

"I dunno," Neville murmured back. "We'll just have to see how the next few months go."

Nearly an hour and a half later, Harry was beginning to wonder just how much he would be able to handle. He was hot, sweaty, and already exhausted. Bailey had begun to irritate him—he was screaming at everyone like a drill sergeant, his favorite words being, "Faster, faster! Come on, guys, move! I don't have all day!"

By the time noon rolled around, all of the trainees were shuffling their feet with exhaustion. Harry forced himself not to pass out right then and there as he, Neville, and Ron went to the small corner store to purchase lunch.

"Why d'you think he has us doing these?" Ron grumbled, taking a large bite out of his roast chicken sandwich.

"To build strength and endurance," Neville quoted, taking a sip from his drink.

"Yeah, yeah, I got that. I just don't understand why they didn't warn us of this beforehand. Here I was thinking that they would be nice to us on the first day."

"You've obviously been let down, then," Harry murmured tiredly, staring at his sandwich. His lack of sleep the night before, combined with the exhaustion of the endurance exercises, left him unable to think properly.

Ron glanced worriedly at his friend, but Harry gave him a dismissive shrug. He took a small bite and forced himself to chew it nonchalantly. He ate about a quarter of the sandwich before he felt too nauseous to eat anymore.

"Harry, are you sure you're all right?" Neville asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, trying to reassure his friends. "Just tired. I didn't really sleep last night."

Harry had abandoned his lunch and decided, like many of the other trainees, to sneak in a nap before training started up again. Ron and Neville relaxed on either side of him, murmuring in undertones about Quidditch and how England would play Australia soon. Harry was lulled by his friends' voices, and it took no less than five minutes for him to drift off, as exhausted as he was. Too soon, though, Bailey appeared again, and the other trainees groaned in hushed opposition. Ron gently nudged Harry, whose eyelids flew open and he awoke with a start.

"Already?" he murmured sleepily.

"Yeah. Can't wait to find out what Mr. Confidence will make us do now."

Harry couldn't help himself; a slight laugh escaped him. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one to notice Bailey's sense of overconfidence. He sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes and readjusting his glasses.

"Come on, you guys! Up, let's go!"

The trainees grumbled and complained as they got to their feet, brushing the grass off their pants. Bailey turned to face them, and cleared his throat. This seemed to be his silent way of saying, "Shut up", and they all got the message.

"Since this morning's exercises went so smoothly, I thought we'd do a bit of discussion this afternoon."

The trainees mumbled their consent; as long as there wouldn't be any more endurance exercises that day, no one cared what they did. Off on the practice field, Harry could see other perspective Aurors. He inferred that they were further along in their training, because their uniforms weren't the same color as his own. Many of them ran along with unperturbed expressions, and he hoped desperately that it would become that easy for him.

After ordering them all into a circle in the grass, Bailey positioned himself in the middle and began to lecture them on different fighting techniques. He showed them different tricks, his wand seemingly flying through the air of its own accord. Harry drank in every word, trying his best to remember absolutely everything Bailey was telling them. Occasionally, though, Bailey would catch his eye, and give him the strangest look. Harry wasn't stupid; it didn't take a genius to recognize the hidden meaning in the Auror's gaze. It was clear that he didn't much like Harry, though the reason as to why was beyond him. All the same, he didn't give this much thought. He was too busy trying to concentrate on the lecture that Bailey's contempt for him seemed insignificant then.

"Tomorrow, I'll show you more combat techniques. Next week, we will begin one-on-one combat, where you will be assessed by current Aurors. Keep in mind that these combat sessions are merely for practice, but they will allow you to have a better idea of what the yearly exams will be like."

"Blimey," Ron murmured incredulously. "This sounds just like school."

Harry smiled only slightly at Ron's words, but Neville nodded in agreement, looking amused at Ron's griping.

Everyone seemed to be relieved when Bailey dismissed them at half past four. It had been an extremely long day, and even though the trainees looked completely worn out, Bailey seemed to be at ease and relaxed. He gave them polite waves, as if he would much rather be doing something else rather than dismissing a group of feet-shuffling, groaning, griping young men. Harry kept his mouth shut, saying nothing as he, Ron, and Neville trudged away from the Auror training center and toward the imposing Ministry building. Harry had no desire to do much of anything that evening, except sleep. _At least I won't have any trouble falling asleep anytime _soon, he thought with a shake of his head.

When the three friends reached the Ministry's entrance, they walked a short way down the block, before they said their farewells and made plans to meet the next morning at the small diner down the road for breakfast.

Harry was glad to be home. When he landed on his front lawn, he glanced around to make sure no Muggles had seen him, before he tramped up to the front door and unlocked it. He welcomed the air conditioning as it blasted him with cool air. He exhaled with relief and exhaustion as he closed the door behind him, locked it, then proceeded to remove his shoes. He ravished in the feel of the smooth carpet beneath his tired feet as he made his way through the house. Once in his bedroom, he pulled out a set of comfortable clothes, then made his way into the bathroom.

He welcomed the warm water as it trickled down his face, chest, and back. He immediately began to relax; he could feel his tense and weary muscles began to unclench. A ten-minute shower left Harry clean, content, and sleepy. He got dressed, yawning, before he left the bathroom and climbed into bed, a sigh of relief escaping him as he collapsed onto the blankets. With a grunt, he forced himself to get up so that he could pull the covers back and slide underneath them. No sooner had he turned on the TV, set the sleep timer, and managed to get comfortable enough to doze off before the phone rang.

Grumbling about having to go all that way to answer the phone, he clambered out of bed and raced into the kitchen to get it.

"Hello?" he murmured, slightly breathless from trying to answer it before it stopped ringing.

"Harry?" He was mildly surprised to hear Ginny's voice on the other end.

"Oh, hey, Ginny! How'd you get ahold of a phone?" Hogwarts, being a school of magic, didn't use many Muggle items, the least of which was a telephone, and most wizards had no idea how to use one.

"A small town near Hogsmeade," she replied simply, as if Harry should have expected something of the sort. "There's a shop that has one; it's quite intriguing, it has all sorts of Muggle stuff. I've bought a few things, and the owner—kind woman, she is—she let me use her phone."

"Did you tell her what you intended to use it for?" he asked, slight amusement creeping into his tone.

"Yeah, she didn't mind at all. Thought it was cute, actually."

Harry chuckled softly. "I appreciate you calling," he said quietly, voicing his thoughts.

Ginny seemed to smile into the phone. "How'd it go?"

Harry sighed, suppressing a groan.

"Uh oh," was Ginny's response. "What happened?" Her voice had taken on a tender, concerned tone.

"Nothing of consequence," Harry replied with an exhale. "It was just... really exhausting."

"I wish I was there, Harry," Ginny said softly, sounding very much like her mother did when she fussed over him. "I could've made you a cup of strong tea that would've helped you relax."

"It's all right, love. Really," Harry answered.

He tried to stifle a yawn, but Ginny must have heard it, because she suddenly said, "What am I thinking? I should have let you sleep awhile before calling. I'm sorry, Harry—I just wanted to::"

"It's fine, Gin, seriously," Harry interrupted her. "I hadn't even fallen asleep yet."

Still, Ginny seemed quite adamant about him getting his sleep, and it didn't help that Harry kept yawning. Finally, with a promise that she'd see him that weekend, they hung up. Harry went back into the bedroom. The TV was still on. He got back into bed, took off his glasses, and slid under the covers with yet another yawn. It took little time for him to fall asleep; he welcomed it like an old friend he hadn't seen for ages.