Chapter Four: Auror Tests.

James stood nervously in the entrance hall to the Ministry of Magic. Around him ministry workers pushed their way past, hurrying so as not to be late for their afternoon shifts. A bony shoulder connected with James' and he reeled sideways, rubbing his arm and glaring at the offending man, who had carried on towards the lift without so much as an 'excuse me'.

A familiar small hand came to rest on James' shoulder, covering his own, and he turned to see Lily smiling up at him. Behind her stood his three best friends and, to his surprise, his parents. They were all smiling warmly at him, and the knot in James' stomach loosened slightly.

"What are you doing here?" he said, returning Lily's warm hug and looking over her shoulder at the others.

"We wouldn't miss our son's big day now, would we?" beamed his Mother, moving to take Lily's place in his embrace. Her mane of thick black hair tickled James' chin and his Father placed a hand on his shoulder. James smiled up at him, and both men's hazel eyes creased.

His Mother let him go, eyes damp, and James grinned down at her. Suddenly a large weight was on his shoulders and James gave a yell as Sirius jumped onto his back. He was quickly joined by both Remus and Peter, and James was squashed beneath a literal dog-pile of bodies. Laughing, he pushed them all off, only to be forced into a headlock and have his hair ruffled furiously by Sirius. His parents and girlfriend looked fondly on, chuckling gently.

"Okay, okay!" James protested, trying and failing to push Sirius away, "I've got to go!"

"Let him go Sirius!" smiled Lily, and Sirius begrudgingly let go. "Good luck James," she kissed him briefly, and hugged him again. "We'll all be waiting back at yours."

"Right." James took yet another deep breath and glanced back at the group, "Well, wish me luck!"

"Good luck!" they chorused, and the last thing James saw before being swept away in the crowd was their smiling faces.

Ten minutes later, James was crammed in a lift with a dozen other men and woman, all of whom looked frazzled and tired despite the fact it was only Monday lunchtime. The sound of the chains lowering the heavy box down the shaft added another bout of nerves to James' already twisting innards, and he let out a hiss of air through his nostrils.

The lift shuddered yet again and chains creaked as it came to a stop. An uptight woman's voice echoed round the small space.

"Level three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee."

There was a moment of chaos as people dashed to escape the claustrophobic conditions, while at the same time several chestnut owls swooped into the lift and took perch wherever they could. One took a seat on James' shoulder, and he couldn't help but glance nervously at it. It looked back through golden orbs and James looked quickly away, pretending to be fascinated by the door. It was a mark of how nervous he was feeling that he could be intimidated by an owl.

The lift restarted with a jolt and a crunch, but was soon stopping again. James' heart hit his throat as the voice informed him he had arrived at Level Two.

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services."

By the time the announcement had been made, James was already striding purposefully down the corridor, which was lined with doors and windows. He approached a set of heavy oak doors and stepped through them, emerging in a large hall-like room which was alive with chatter and laughter.

James set off through the rows of cubicles, peering curiously into each one. They were all different, he noticed. Some had family photos showing smiling children and spouses, while others had newspaper clippings promoting personal achievements and successes. Some were organised right down to the quills in their inkwells, while others were a literal jumble sale of random objects. The only thing that seemed constant was the tired but tough and resolute faces of the Auror's themselves.

A young man smiled at him from a middle cubicle. He was tall and dark skinned, and must have only been a couple of years older than James himself. The small golden name plaque read 'Kingsley Shacklebolt'. The man's head was shaven bald, and he looked out at James through deep brown eyes. "Can I help you?" he asked in a deep tenor of a voice.

James smiled back, "Yeah – I'm here for the Auror tests?"

The man nodded, "Ah yes. Just take the door at the end," he stood and pointed over his cubicle wall at yet another set of double doors, "and then it's the seventh door on the left."

"Thanks." James grinned lopsidedly at the man, who nodded, and moved away towards the large doors. Pushing one open, he found himself in a long corridor lit by hundreds of torches mounted in golden holders. A deep red carpet lay on the floor and every few feet rested a portrait depicting famous Auror's past, each framed in an intricate golden web and clearly labelled.

James followed the corridor down the flickering hall, counting the doors and trying not to look at the portraits hanging from the walls. He could hear them muttering as he passed them, and his stomach turned over uncomfortably. Finally he reached the seventh door and stood in front of it for a moment, breathing deeply. If he could just convince himself he was going in for another detention with McGonagall, then he should be alright… He sucked in another warm, musty lungful of air and pushed open the door.

James found himself in a tiny room, barely bigger than three of the cubicles he'd left behind. He suddenly longed for that well-lit room, bustling with activity. Here the walls were panelled with dark wood, and with even less light than the corridor. In the middle of the room there was a desk, where a middle-aged woman sat on a hard backed chair. Her desk was scattered with pieces of paper, and a candlestick lit them with a dull orange light while dripping its pale wax onto the wood. Behind her, a dark door loomed ominously.

James approached the desk, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. "Hi," he said nervously, hands twisting behind his back, "I'm here for the Auror tests?"

The witch looked sternly up at him. Her pupils were uncommonly large, and James got the impression they could see right into his head. He shifted underneath the probing gaze and eventually tore his eyes away, staring over her head at the dark wooden door. The woman gave a snort and began to shuffle her notes around. "What time was your appointment?" she barked.

"Quarter to one."

The woman nodded and a piece of parchment seemed to fly into her hand. She scanned it for a moment, before her head snapped back up. "James Potter?"

He nodded.

"Take a seat," she gestured behind James, who turned. A stiff wooden bench was backed against the wall. "Professor Slumpolt will be out in a moment."

As he lowered himself onto the seat, a small explosion took place in the pit of James' stomach. He couldn't trick himself any longer. This wasn't detention, or some stupid exam done in school. This was so much more important. This is what would decide whether or not he would become an Auror, the profession he'd dreamt for ever since he was six years old...

"Now James," his father said, smiling down at his son, "This is Jacob Salter."

James looked up into the man's face. He was remarkably square, and he seemed so… old. Like the teddy bear tucked beneath his duvet, which had been hugged too many times and was missing half its fur. The man squatted down and smiled at James. "Well hello young man."

James tucked himself his father's leg, with only his bright brown eyes and mop of dark hair visible around the black material. The man's smile grew behind his bushy beard and he leaned closer to the boy. "Hey James – do you like stories?"

James' head bobbed in the affirmative, and he emerged from behind his father's leg, though his hand still clutched tightly to the fabric. He smiled nervously at the man, and his eyes crinkled. "Well James – I have a few stories for you."

James had spent the entire evening sitting on the rug in the drawing room, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. His parents had sat on the sofa behind him while Jacob Salter had taken the winged armchair, entertaining them with stories of his team's heroics. He had spoken well into the night, and from then on James' favourite game had been re-enacting the tales throughout the many halls and rooms of his family home.

As he'd grown, he'd given up on the re-enactments, but they had always stayed in the back of his mind. James had been genuinely upset when Salter had passed away in his forth year, but his resolve had nothing but strengthened. He would become an Auror, no matter what.

So it was with a new strength that James looked up as a noise sounded before him. A man had just entered the room through the back door, and was taking a piece of parchment from the severe woman at the desk. He moved towards James and took a seat next to him on the bench. As the man examined the sheet, James took the opportunity to scan the man who would presumably be deciding whether or not to allow him into the training scheme.

It was not hard to believe that Slumpolt worked where he did. He was pressing seven foot in height, and had the broadest shoulders James had ever seen. He felt suddenly very self-conscious of his own slim frame. He was built like a chaser, while this man was quite clearly a beater. James liked to think of things in term of Quidditch – it was much simpler.

The man looked up from the parchment and obviously scanned James, who did the same. Slumpolt's features seemed too small for his face, with his nose, mouth and eyes squashed closely together. A long scar ran from the left tip of his mouth to his earlobe.

"Well… James!" he looked down at the paper once again, "I must say your results are very impressive."

"Erm… thanks?"

"Hmm." Slumpolt flicked over the parchment to read what was scrawled on the back, and James craned his neck in an attempt to see himself. The teacher however, tilted the paper so it was in shadow and impossible to read. Was it James' imagination, or did he smile to himself as he did so?

"Right..." he folded the paper neatly and set it next to him, before looking at James with his curiously pale blue eyes. "I suppose I better tell you what's going to happen today." He paused, considering his words before continuing, "I'm here to access how suitable you would be for a career in the Auror profession. As you can imagine, it's a very competitive area of work, and we only pick the best. People who achieve great exam results often find that, although the theory comes easily, they cannot stand the pressure of the actual job."

James nodded, swallowing hard, and Slumpolt's eyes narrowed. "In order to pick out the people who would be most valuable to the department, the senior officials have created a series of tests. Not written exams, you must understand, but three practical assessments, each lasting half an hour." Slumpolt cleared his throat, "I will, of course, be watching you throughout, and be giving you marks out of 60 for each activity. At the end, any mark higher than 170 will get you into the programme. Any questions?"

James shook his head. Even if he had, he didn't think he'd have been able to voice them. His heart was pounding in his throat and stopping any words coming out of his mouth. Slumpolt nodded.

"Wilma? The form please?" The witch at the desk waved her hand, and another piece of parchment flew across the room into Slumpolt's outstretched hand. "Just a formality, you see James. If you could just read this here and sign at the bottom…"

James scanned the parchment pushed at him, though only certain words registered in his foggy mind.

'Does not accept responsibility… grievous bodily harm…. death… mental or physical… risk…'

James accepted the quill from Slumpolt and scribbled his name at the bottom. He would just have to survive the test…

"Right!" Slumpolt was suddenly on his feet and beaming. "I suppose we should get started then! Is the first hall free Wilma?"

James glanced across at Wilma, who was scrambling in her desk drawer. She pulled out a piece of parchment and pressed her wand tip to it. James saw the ink glow blue and the letters squirm around slightly while the receptionist looked blankly down. "Yes," she finally said, "The last candidate just left."

"Excellent!" boomed Slumpolt, practically bouncing towards the door at the back. James followed at a much slower pace, his hand clenched around his wand in his pocket. He stopped for a moment to put his signed form on the desk, and Wilma looked up at him. For a moment a reassuring smile hovered on her thin lips, but then she dove back into her paperwork with as much ferocity as ever. James glanced over his shoulder one last time, and followed Slumpolt through the back door.

"Right James," grinned the man as he strode down the empty corridor. "This first test is designed to test your determination and, more specifically, your focus. It will also test your practical defence skills, but don't worry about that too much. We can teach you spells – we can't teach you determination." Slumpolt smiled down at him, and once again clapped his large hands together. James noticed a golden wedding band twinkling on his finger.

They quickly arrived in front of a small, innocent looking black door with an intricate silver handle. James looked at the delicate engraving, feeling his heart pound in his ears. Slumpolt's voice seemed to come from a long way away.

"So, if you'd like to pass me your cloak and anything else you have... You'll only need your wand here."

James pulled off his cloak, which he'd only really worn to look the part, to reveal his everyday jeans and T-Shirt. He took his wand and gripped it hard in his right hand, feeling the familiar warmth spreading through his palm. Slumpolt tucked the cloak over his arm and took hold of the handle on the black door. He looked straight at James, his eyes boring down on him, and was suddenly serious again. "You have half an hour James. You need to tail the man in the black robes. Understand? Ignore all distractions. Just follow the man in the black."

James nodded, his eyes wide, and the door opened with an ominous creak, revealing a threatening black space beyond. James closed his eyes, took a breath and held it as he stepped over the threshold.

The door slammed shut behind him, but James didn't flinch. It was the same when he had been executing a prank back at school; once he had a target in mind, nothing could derail him. And he had a target; Follow the man in black.

James moved cautiously into the room, eyes flicking from one shadowy corner to another. It was completely black, he could see nothing. He could feel hard, cold stone underneath his feet, and hear his own ragged breathing around him, but he was completely blind.

There was a flurry of movement in the corner of his vision and James spun on his heel, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and the shadow, a series of doors and corridors became known to him. He was in a labyrinth of passageways, with no idea where he was supposed to be going and no contact with anyone… except…

There! In the closest doorway to him! There was no mistaking the whisper of a robe as it brushed against the floor, or the silhouette of a man as he rushed past. James powered after him, his feet falling heavy on the stone as he entered a new area, just as dark and foreboding as the first.

With no warning a light flashed across his vision, bright red and hot, and James fell back with a quickly stifled yell. Spells were darting across the space, close enough for James to feel the heat of their magical energy. These would hurt him if they hit their mark, but James couldn't worry too much about it. He took a breath and ran, dodging the flying sparks with the reflexes gained from years of Quidditch. One brushed his wrist and he gasped at the horrible burning sensation that ran up his arm. It was as if his whole arm was on fire…

But he could see the robed figure, illuminated by the flashing spells. He wasn't black anymore, but red, green and gold, and he was winding in and out of the sparks as if they were nothing more than raindrops. James wouldn't let himself loose him. He scrambled after him; ignoring the pain in his arm and the blisters he could already feel forming. He almost threw himself down the narrow passage the man disappeared through, and was soon back out in the open space of a dark corridor.

There was something in this room. James could hear it whimpering, like the scared cries of a small child. There was no whistle of spells here, no flashing light. Just complete darkness and small, terrified sobs. James automatically scanned the room for the source of the noise, but saw nothing.

'Ignore all distractions.'

But still, the sobbing continued from the bowels of the room. The kind of sobs which broke your heart and ripped your soul. James ached to find whoever was crying and silence them somehow; to make it all okay again. If only to relieve his own aching heart. There was a moment when he believed that just thinking it had done some good, as the sobs stilled for a moment. But a second later they resumed at full force. A child crying in the dark.

James made to move towards the sound, but pulled himself back with effort. No! He couldn't! He had to stay focused on the task he was given. Where had the figure gone?

James scanned the room and then, with a jerk, saw him. He was standing quite calmly just feet from James, watching him battle against himself to keep from running towards the source of that horrible, horrible noise which still echoed off the stone walls.

The man gave him one long look from underneath the shadow of his hood, and James hesitated a moment before raising his wand. But by the time he was ready the man had vanished round yet another corner. He groaned and broke into a sprint, his legs pounding against the stone floor as he whipped round the corner and froze.

James felt his stomach hit the floor and his throat clench against a wave of vomit. A body lay on the floor, limbs bent at odd angles and a menacing dark puddle spreading from underneath its head. James gave a choked cry as he recognised the face turned towards the floor, half covered by rich red locks.

"Lils?" he hissed, stumbling towards her. But as he got closer more bodies started to loom out of the darkness. The lay sprawled on the floor, their familiar faces pale and lifeless. His Mother, his Father, Remus, Peter… James stumbled backwards with a stifled sob, only to feel his foot nudge something behind him.

James turned slowly, his whole body tingling with dread.

Sirius' empty grey eyes looked up at him. His handsome features showed nothing but horrible, heart-wrenching accusation as he stared blankly up into James' face. James almost vomited right then and there; he could feel its acidity crawling up his throat. He reached one trembling hand towards the crumpled body before him…

A movement caused his head to snap up suddenly, and a spasm of pain went through his neck. A black hem was whipping round the corner. James took one last frantic look at the bodies surrounding him before throwing himself after the man. Dead faces swum in front of his eyes as he ran, but he refused to think of them. 'They're not real,' he reminded himself, 'they're not real.'

Suddenly he rounded a corner, and found himself in yet another black room. And there was his quarry, standing boldly in the middle of the space. James skidded to a halt and raised his wand, backing the shadowy figure into a corner.

What now?

Just as he was about to stun the man, there was a sudden rushing noise, like all the air was being sucked out of the room, and James' eyes flickered around the darkness for the source. His wand, however, stayed steadily pointed at the figures head. Then, without any warning, the lights flashed back on, and Professor Slumpolt was revealed to be standing in a far corner.

"Well done James! Jolly good job you did there!" shouted Slumpolt. His deep rumble of a voice seemed unnatural, out-of-place, in this darkly painted room, especially after the hushed silence of the last few minutes.

James' wand fell to his side, and he squinted in the bright light. He saw Slumpolt gesture to the robed figure, who nodded first at the teacher then at James, who inclined his head awkwardly in reply. As the man swept back through the door James had just entered, he turned back to Slumpolt. The older man was scribbling a few last sentences on parchment held in an elegant black leather folder.

"I saw you hesitated in that last room – the one with the Boggart's?" He looked up at James' dismayed face and chuckled fondly, "Don't worry about that too much young man – you coped much better than most. One young woman had to be rescued from there by her own target!"

James gave a wobbly smile. Now that the lights were back on it seemed ridiculous to have been so shaken by a few Boggart's – he'd dealt with them in third year for god's sake! But never had they seemed so… real...

"Well!" Slumpolt nodded with satisfaction and snapped closed the folder, "Not a bad score. Not bad at all in fact. Now… if you would like to follow me James, I'll take you through to the next hall..."

The next hour passed in a blur for James. Nothing seemed difficult after that first test, nothing hurt after seeing what he had seen. Next he was made to duel with Slumpolt himself, and had been surprised by the man's obvious power and speed. James had somehow managed to keep the duel going for a full fifteen minutes, though was eventually struck down by a well timed stunner. When he'd been brought round he'd been covered in sweat and every muscle in his body screamed with pain, but Slumpolt's impressed mutterings had made it all worthwhile.

For the final assessment he was shown into a white room, where he'd met up with a group of five other hopefuls. The room had been empty except for a few buckets, pieces of pipe, instructions and a tray full of food and drink. This was problem solving combined with teamwork. But before they could get started, James practically threw himself on the food, not realising until this exact moment how hungry he was. He wolfed down the sandwiches as he examined the other people in the room, who were eyeing each other curiously.

To his surprise, James recognised a few of the people as students from his own school, his own year. He'd greeted them warmly and suddenly, without any thought, he was back at school. He was back at a prefect meeting, trying to stop the Griffindors and Slytherins killing each other while at the same time organising a new rota for the Saturday night shift. Or he was back at the dormitory, laughing with Sirius and visualising the latest prank, complete with any pitfalls they could meet along the way.

Before he knew it, the whole group was talking and laughing together, tossing the instructions and ideas around while the buckets filled and emptied. And James was once again in charge. This was the position he naturally filled, and he felt genuinely calmer than he had since arriving at the ministry two hours before.

So Three O Clock found James still in the clean white room, feet up on the table and nursing a bottle of butterbeer.

"And then, if you believe it, the old bat went pottering off to find the other Niffler!"

He was just accounting another daring tale of the Marauder's stay at Hogwarts with help from his old schoolfellows when Slumpolt appeared at the door. His large, square shoulders seemed to take up all the space in the frame and James instantly regretted eating so much when he caught his eyes and beckoned for him to follow.

An eerie hush fell over the previously merry room as one by one the applicants all remembered why they were here. James got to his feet and made his way across the space, wondering when his legs had become so heavy. The two men made their way down yet another winding corridor until they came to a small room, which James was ushered into.

"Well James. I won't keep you in the dark any longer," smiled Slumpolt, settling himself behind a desk and gesturing for James to do the same. "I can tell you that you achieved a score of 172."

James stared at him, before collapsing gratefully into the offered seat. "Are you serious?"

"Yes Mr Potter, I assure you I am. You missed five points on the first task, and three on the second. Full marks on the third you'll be pleased to hear." Slumpolt chuckled at James' deliriously happy expression, "As I'm sure you've guessed, this is more than enough to accept you into our course. That is, if you're still interested?"

James nodded madly, a stupid grin now plastered onto his face, and Slughorn gave a boom of laughter. A splatter of spit landed on James' cheek, but he didn't care.

"So that's that then! If you'd like to make your way back to where we first met, Wilma will provide you with all the information you need." He stood, and James followed his lead. The two shook hands, and Slumpolt looked down at him with a strange look in his eye. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing great things from you James," he said, "And, what is more, I believe we will be starting tomorrow. I greatly look forward to teaching you."

"Thanks so much Sir!" gabbled James, wringing the man's broad hand and grinning madly up at him. "Erm… I guess I'll see you tomorrow then!"

"I suppose so. See you later then James."

"Bye sir!" James closed the door softly behind him and rested back against it for a moment, breathing hard. He then forced himself to walk calmly down the corridor until he was quite sure he was out of earshot. Then he broke into a run. James tore down the corridors and towards the lifts, allowing himself a whoop of laughter as he twisted round a corner and out of sight.