A/N: Mad props to J.K. Rowling for inventing Harry Potter. This is a day early in honor of Deathly Hallows Part 2, which I saw at the midnight premiere. There was this awesome guy in a full Mad-Eye Moody costume there. My friend took a picture with him.

Reviews are very much appreciated!

There is no good or evil…only power and those too weak to seek it.

-Quirinus Quirrell, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Copyright J.K. Rowling.

Three years ago, Harry told Dolores Umbridge he wanted to be an Auror. While he's already fought enough dark wizards to last him a lifetime, it's a job that appeals to him, even now. He knows that nothing will ever be as trying as the recurring battles against Voldemort, and he'll never be happy without a job involving the Dark Arts.

He's taken a year off, staying with the Weasleys, but he's starting to get restless. He figures he can find a job somewhere at the Ministry, even if they'd been on opposing sides the previous year.

He sits down on a bench outside some office, the letter from yesterday in the back of his mind. Hermione's next to him with Ron by her side. A slight frown decorates Ron's face, and he watches the closed office door cautiously. Just that morning, he'd been perfectly content to let Harry and Hermione find jobs alone while he slept in at home. Mrs. Weasley disagreed.

Ron taps his fingers against his leg. "We didn't even take our N.E.W.T.s. The best job I'll get is the bloody welcoming committee."

"At least your mum'll be happy."

"Shut up, Harry."

Hermione rolls her eyes at them. Somehow, she appears even more uncomfortable than Ron is. While the three of them had been busy searching for Horcruxes, they had bigger worries than the tests their classmates were taking back at school. But now, with her parents safely back and living with her in Ottery St. Catchpole—their old home had been foreclosed when the bills stopped being paid, but she'd still nearly had to beg—Hermione's nervous energy has found a whole new set of problems to obsess over: the papers, the Elder Wand, a job.

Sometimes Harry reckons she even spends a good deal of her time worrying about Ron and her relationship with him, but Harry can't be sure. She'd hardly talk to him about something like that. Still, things seem to be going well for the two of them, though they keep the snogging to a minimum when he's around.

The door opens, and an elderly wizard with dark hair and a beard emerges. He greets them with a nod and shakes their hands with a strong grip. "I'm Joseph Dean, Assistant to the Minister. He apologizes that he can't be here himself, but he's in a meeting with the Head of the Department of Mysteries." He beckons them into his office.

Harry takes his seat first, far calmer than his friends. Ron's eyes dart around the room, and Hermione sits stiffly. Harry's already been promised a job; his friends haven't.

Mr. Dean takes a seat across from them, resting an elbow on his desk. He watches Ron with an unreadable expression. "You don't like our welcoming committee?"

"Your welco—?" Ron breaks off, horror dawning on his face. "No, that's not—what I meant was…your welcoming committee's brilliant! Really…welcoming."

"So that's the position you'll pursue here at the Ministry?"

"I, uh, I could. I was kind of thinking something more like, y'know, Auror. Or I could be one of those people who work in the Department of…Games and Sports…" He scratches the back of his neck, flushing.

Mr. Dean's laugh cuts Ron off, putting him out of his misery. His voice is warm as he says, "Arthur told me you like Quidditch. I'm sure there's a job for you there. Though if that's the department you're most interested in, I'd wait to start until the Cup's over. Things have been chaotic around here, because we're trying to make it up to all the fans after having to delay everything a year."

Ron's eyes widen, his face still bright red. "You'll let me in?"

Hermione's just as surprised. "Without our N.E.W.T.s? But I thought—"

Harry knows why she's upset. Months after the battle, she'd returned to Hogwarts to take the test. Of the three of them, she's the only one who did. Ron thought going back to take the N.E.W.T.s was a stupid idea, and Harry had to agree. But that didn't stop Hermione.

Apparently, Mr. Dean knows this as well. "I saw your marks, Ms. Granger. Very impressive."

"You did?" Hermione asks. Now Ron's not the only one blushing. Nothing more than a tiny smile plays on Hermione's lips, but Harry knows better. She's thrilled.

XXX

Harry's supposed to have a job, but he can't help wonder if something's gone wrong. Mr. Weasley is meeting with Joseph Dean to talk over the possible jobs for the three of them, and he's been gone for nearly an hour.

Harry and Hermione are done eating lunch, and Ron's just finishing his second sandwich from home when Mr. Weasley enters his office to find the three of them lounging around. As soon as he walks through the door, the three of them perk up.

Somehow, Ron manages to speak through his food. "What'd he say? Took you ages to come back."

"Sorry, Ron. I had to make a quick run back home to pick up something I'd left." Mr. Weasley pulls out an object from his pocket. "Look! I wanted to show Arnie Winson this light switch I found at a Muggle store the other day."

"Dad! You went home? What about our jobs?"

Mr. Weasley pockets the light switch. "Ah, your jobs! Joe said you've—Arnie! I've got something to show you!"

A man who Harry guesses is in his late forties stops outside the door and sticks his head in the office. The man runs a hand through his dark brown hair, and he doesn't seem at all like the type of person Mr. Weasley would like. He has great bags under his eyes, and he looks as if he hasn't smiled in days. Then again, Mr. Weasley hadn't looked much different for months after Fred's death.

"Afternoon, Arthur."

Apparently the man doesn't always look like this, because Mr. Weasley takes a step closer to him, the light switch all but forgotten. "Arnie? What happened?"

The man sucks in a deep breath. "They think they know who killed Sarah."

With a sideways glance at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley clears his throat. "Who?"

"They're saying it was her husband. Last time anyone saw him was…hell, no one knows. But his wand's gone, and he wasn't in the house either. They're handing out flyers in the main entranceway, hoping someone knows where he is. At least to see if he knows anything."

Mr. Weasley obviously wants to ask more, but instead he turns to Harry, Ron, and Hermione and says, "Come on, you three. I'll walk you out." As he leads the way out the door, he pats Arnie's back.

XXX

The entryway into the Ministry is just as crowded as ever as people return back from their lunch break. Some of them stare at Harry as he passes, a few greet him, and one asks for an autograph for her daughter. With a quill the woman hands him, Harry quickly signs some newspaper article about him, then he catches up to Mr. Weasley as he navigates the crowd.

As they walk past a large fountain in the middle of the main room, a woman steps in their path, holding a paper out in front of her. "Arthur? Have you talked to Arnie yet? He went upstairs looking for you."

"I saw him up in the offices." Harry watches as Mr. Weasley takes the paper. On it is a picture of a middle-aged wizard with brown hair and dull blue eyes. It's taken from somewhere outside, and the man leans against a tree, looking out with a thin smile. Occasionally he roughly brushes some of the branches away so they don't cover his face, or he runs a hand through his graying hair.

Mr. Weasley is silent, staring down at the picture in his hands. A few seconds later, he looks up at the lady front of him. "You're sure this is the right person?"

"He was her husband, yes."

Mr. Weasley speaks slowly. "He works for the American Ministry. He's offered my son Percy a job there."

The woman's eyebrows shoot up. "You know him?"

Mr. Weasley starts towards the exit, ignoring the witch with the flyers as she asks questions behind him. "I just met him ten minutes ago. Percy brought him to the house."

XXX

Hepler grins easily, his hand resting on his wand, where it sits next to him on the couch. He watches the redheaded woman carefully for any sign of movement, ready to hurt her if he must. "Potter's friends with your son, is he not?"

Molly Weasley nods curtly. "They met on the train on their way to their first year at Hogwarts. Hermione, too."

"Hermione?" he repeats, sitting up. He assumes this is the Hermione Granger referenced in the magazine, but he asks anyway. "Who is she?"

"Ron's girlfriend. He doesn't like me talking much about it, especially when his brothers are around, but they've been—"

Hepler doesn't give a damn about the other boy's love life. "Who is she to Potter?"

"His other best friend. Ron says she's the smartest of the three of them. Keeps the lot of them out of trouble. Well, she tries, at least."

"Where are they now?"

The woman frowns. "At the Ministry. Well, they're supposed to be."

"You believe they're not?"

"Ron's probably gone off by himself to buy that Quidditch jersey he keeps asking me about instead."

"Why does he want a Quidditch jersey?"

"For the World Cup."

He opens his mouth to ask another question, but he's interrupted by a loud pop as someone Apparates into the room. He instantly erases Mrs. Weasley's memory and jumps to his feet as more people appear. As he Disapparates, he manages a glance at a familiar face with a lightning scar.

XXX

In a deserted area not far from the Weasley house, Hepler finds Percy exactly where he told him to hide until told otherwise.

"You said no one would stop by for hours." He slashes his wand through the air and watches as a gash appears on Percy's cheek. Still, no satisfaction comes from this; Percy barely even flinches, though he walks around like a puppet whenever he isn't given something to do, so Hepler has to wonder if pain even registers at all. "Who was that? Did you tell someone to come find me? Answer me."

"I sat behind the tree, like you said."

"Did you tell anyone you were here? Did you move from where I left you?"

"No."

"Just in case…" Hepler scowls and points his wand at Percy. "Incarcerous!" He watches as ropes wrap around Percy's body, then he sits on the ground nearby, pulling a tiny vial out of his pocket. He lifts it up, frowning. "I wasted all my Veritaserum finding out your brother's got a girlfriend he met on a train."

He slices his wand through the air again, and another cut appears on Percy's face.

XXX

It's getting dark and windy, but Hepler knows he can't go to the tiny hotel he's been living in since he arrived in town. He figures it's already been difficult enough smuggling Percy in undetected, but now that the Weasleys have to know something's wrong (maybe even that Percy's cursed), he doesn't dare move elsewhere even if it's been hours since he'd nearly been caught.

He tries to sleep in an area crowded with trees that soften the wind's blow slightly. He can Apparate somewhere else, he supposes, but with a night so silent, he fears that may draw too much attention to himself.

He can't risk that. Not now, when he's finally found Potter. He's seen the boy in the flesh, even if only for an instant. An exhilaration courses through his veins, and a sense of euphoria fills him with each breath he takes.

As Hepler closes his eyes, he can almost feel the Elder Wand's worn handle in his palm, noticing every knot and ridge and bump. It's light—surprising for something with such great power. And such immense potential. Perhaps that's the most important thing of all: The wand has no limit, and this means he has no limit. For the first time, he won't be a slave to circumstance.

With Potter so close, it's easy for Hepler to forget the Elder Wand isn't already his.