Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. All rights go to JK Rowling/Warner Bros. I do not profit in any way.

Chapter 14

He and Ron sat side-by-side at the kitchen table.

Anxiety was tearing at Harry's gut. From Ron's expression – and green tinged complexion – he was experiencing something of the sort.

He looked down at his watch. It was almost time to leave.

Thinking that he couldn't spend any more time in the silent kitchen, he turned to his best friend.

"Time to go, do you think?"

"Uh," Ron mumbled, "yeah, I guess."

"Let's go, then."

There was no need to say goodbye to anyone – Mr Weasley was at work, and Mrs Weasley had had the foresight to take the girls out shopping. She must have known that the relentless teasing from their girlfriends would do nothing to calm the boys' nerves.

Ron stepped into the fireplace.

"See'ya in a bit, mate," he said nervously.

Harry nodded.

"Ministry of Magic, 4872263!"

The fire flashed bright, and Ron disappeared. Harry gulped, and took a handful of floo powder from the pot on the side, running through the security number in his brain. The Ministry had introduced this new system since Voldemort died. You couldn't floo into the Ministry unless you had the number, and it changed every day. Only employees were given the security number for the next day – usually just before they finished work.

Ron and Harry had received their security numbers by post that morning.

Harry threw the Floo Powder into the hearth, and took great care to pronounce every word correctly, remembering the incident at the beginning of his second year with a half smile.

Another flash of the flame, and Harry was gone.

"Good job mate!" Ron said, as Harry stepped out of one of the many fires in the Atrium. "You didn't get lost this time!"

Harry replied to Ron in such a way that on hindsight, he was glad Hermione wasn't with them.

"You all know why you are here," Kingsley boomed, looking around the room at the new Auror Trainees, winking at Ron and Harry. "Being an Auror is certainly not an easy career option. It is physically challenging, mentally exhausting and dangerous."

"Good old Kingsley's really selling it, isn't he," Ron muttered to Harry.

"But," he said, "Going through all of the training is rewarding. If you want a profession in which you can help to ensure the safety of people; wizards and muggles alike, you're in the right place. During the war, we lost a lot of our best Aurors. Our defences are weak at the moment. And although the imminent threat is gone, we cannot afford to be weak. The whole of the wizarding community relies on us for their safety. As a consequence, training is going to be slightly different this year. As opposed to the old system of years of training, you will be taking your written examinations in six months time. In nine months, you will have the opportunity to take your practical examination, and thus become qualified Aurors."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances. Evidently, the training was going to be challenging.

"Are... they... having... a... laugh!" Ron panted.

Harry would have chucked at his friend's dismay, but the stitch in his side prevented it.

They and the other trainees had been taken to the Auror's Academy of Defence, and shown around. It was an impressive building - that was for sure. It was all built out of glass and pale wood, but from the outside, you couldn't see in – for security reasons, Kingsley had explained.

After the gym (Harry was surprised that wizards used muggle gyms), the pool and the duelling platform, the last place that they and been shown was the main hall, in which they were working now.

"Come on you lot," Kingsley boomed, "Fifty more star jumps."

Yes, this was the physically exhausting training that the trainees were forced to endure.

Star jumps.

It wasn't often Harry was forced to do anaerobic exercise. In fact, the last time was in his old primary school, where the girls had giggled at his scrawny legs, and the boys took every opportunity to trip him over - thanks to Dudley's efforts at turning the whole of the male population against him.

At least this was more civilised, Harry thought, looking round to see how the rest of the trainees were doing. Ron was still puffing, his face gradually becoming as red as his hair.

There were four men in the corner – they all looked older than Harry – maybe early twenties. He didn't recognise them; obviously they weren't Gryffindors at Hogwarts. It didn't look like they were taking the training very seriously – all but one of them were mucking about, and staring at the three girls at the front.

Those three were obviously very athletic – they were chatting in French accents whilst doing their star jumps with ease – Harry wondered how that was even possible.

"And stop!" Kingsley said.

Harry and Ron sighed simultaneous sighs of relief, and happily sat down on the chairs that Kingsley conjured.

"That's all the training that we're going to do today, but before you go, there are a few more things to talk to you about.

"Now, I know that this isn't what you were expecting today, judging from the looks on your faces," Kingsley said, his eyes twinkling at Ron, "but you all have to be in top physical condition to be an Auror. Believe me; you'll be grateful when your practical exam comes around!"

"But will we be doing star jumps all the time, sir? I thought we were getting training with spells and stuff?" said the quieter boy of the four.

"Right you are, Quentin. This is just a start up session. You will be doing exercise, of course, but there will be intensive training on defensive and offensive spells and physical fighting."

Quentin nodded, satisfied. Kingsley smiled and continued:

"Unfortunately, with my new responsibilities, I will no longer be a full-time trainer. I will pop in for a session here and there, but not very often, I'm afraid. So this is a good time to introduce your full-time trainer, Asima Thomas!"

A pretty woman walked into the room. She had long dark hair, pale skin and kind brown eyes. She was in her late twenties, and wore a long black robe with an old broach of a badger pinned to her chest. She grinned at Kingsley, before turning to the trainees.

"Hi there," she said, smiling, "I'm Asima, and I'm going to be your coach, as the Minister has told you.

"We will be meeting three days a week, on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and you will have the opportunity to use the facilities here if you wish to practise outside of your designated training hours. You cannot bring friends here, or even tell anyone where the centre is. That is of the upmost importance. Do you understand?"

Upon their agreement, Asima smiled and carried on speaking in her lilted voice – Harry was almost certain that she was from one of the Scandinavian countries. "You will be expected to wear these uniforms..." she pointed to the box at her feet, "At all times when entering this building. Lastly, your individual security numbers to get into the building are in the pockets of these uniforms. Kindly memorize them, and burn the paper. When you approach the building, hold the number in your mind, and the doors will open for you."

They nodded again, and Asima asked whether anyone had any questions.

Harry shook his head, as did all the others.

"Great," she grinned, levitating the uniforms to their respective trainees "I will see you all on Monday morning – 9'o'clock sharp!"