A very big "Thank you!" goes to fredfred for betaing. His help has improved the story a lot.
Chapter 35: Baptism of Fire
London, Ministry of Magic, September 2nd, 1998
"This concludes the practical part of the exam. Thank you, Mr Nott," Archibald Brocktuckle said with the ease of long practice as he gathered the notes he had taken during the young wizard's test.
"When will we receive our results?"
That, too, was a question almost everyone asked. Archie smiled. "You will be informed within a few days."
Nott nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. Nott was from an Old Family, so he was likely aware that Archie wouldn't be spending most of that time grading the tests of the ten candidates, but rather dealing with all the people who wanted to talk to him about one candidate or another who might have been a little too nervous when taking the test. They were usually important and generous people. And so Archie usually understood quite well that a slightly less than impressive showing at the entrance exam didn't mean that a candidate was actually unfit for the position - after a few years in the Corps, even the somewhat less skilled wizards and witches could do their job well enough.
He looked at the next name on the list and sighed. Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Vanquisher of Voldemort. And the most controversial candidate this year. Madam Umbridge had been quite clear that the boy should receive no favouritism due to his fame or family. Which meant she wanted Archie to fail him.
He snorted. As if he'd sacrifice himself for Umbridge's plots. If he failed Potter, Archie would be wrecking his own career. Umbridge certainly wouldn't lift a finger to help him, and Black would crush him. Maybe literally - Archie shuddered, remembering the rumours about Selwyn's murder.
No, Archie would even be quite understanding if the boy should not live up to his reputation - although, given what Archie had heard about the boy's N.E.W.T.s, that was very unlikely. And he'd keep a copy of his paperwork sealed and filed. Just in case there were discrepancies. After all, Umbridge would be aware that she couldn't actually stop Potter from becoming an Auror - but she could damage the boy's reputation in the process.
He arranged his notes, then stood and went to open the door. "Mr Potter?"
The Boy-Who-Lived stood. "Yes."
"I'm ready for you now."
Archibald Browtuckle stared at the remains of the target dummy, then at Potter. "Why did you break it after hitting it with a Stunner?" He had asked for a non-lethal takedown of a suspect, not a kill.
Potter looked puzzled for a moment. "Well, it didn't have actual limbs to break after stunning it."
"What?"
"Breaking the target's limbs means that even if an ally revives them, they'll still be neutralised as a threat." Potter nodded. "That's standard procedure when dealing with dark wizards."
Archie blinked. That most certainly wasn't the standard procedure!
He was about to tell the boy that when Potter went on. "Well, it's not in the book, but it's what Moody taught me."
"Moody? Mad-Eye Moody?" Archie managed to maintain his composure - with an effort. He had heard that rumour, but had dismissed it. "He taught you?"
Potter nodded. "Me and Ron - Ron Weasley."
The next name on the list. "What exactly did he teach you?"
Potter smiled. "Everything."
Archie felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
An hour later, Archibald Brocktuckle was done with the exams and made his way to the floor's break area. He needed a cuppa. Badly.
"Hey, Archie! Already done with the kids?"
Archie turned his head and suppressed a groan. Dawlish. "Yes," he replied.
"How did it go? Did Potter live up to his reputation?"
Archie snorted. "Whoever gets to show him the ropes is in for a treat," he said.
Dawlish frowned. "Why? Is he as arrogant as some claim?"
Archie shook his head. "No. Quite polite and respectful, actually." He waited a moment, then cut Dawlish off right before the other man could ask another question. "But he was trained in how to be an Auror by Mad-Eye."
Dawlish started to curse quite colourfully. Archie didn't mind - he used the opportunity to get his cuppa. And he was very happy about the fact that as a desk-bound Auror - unlike Dawlish - he wouldn't have to deal with Potter.
London, Greenwich, September 2nd, 1998
"Hello, Mr Fletcher," Hermione Granger said as she entered her tutor's flat.
"Hi, Hermione." Fletcher frowned. "I guess there's no news regarding Selwyn's murder."
Hermione frowned. "Was I that obvious?" She had thought that she had hidden her frustration at the DMLE's lack of progress well.
"No." He grinned. "But I know you - if there had been any progress, you would have already told me everything."
Hermione couldn't dispute that. But she consoled herself with the thought she wasn't a bad actress - her tutor simply knew her too well. She sighed. "No, there isn't any news. The Unspeakables still haven't released any information, and the DMLE hasn't found out anything. We checked multiple sources," she added before he could ask. "Jeanne has asked her mother if there have been similar crimes in France, but she doesn't recall hearing or reading about any."
He nodded. "Unfortunately, I haven't had any luck with my contact in Prussia either." He shrugged. "Of course, he isn't exactly working for the Ministry, so the DMLE's formal enquiry might have more success." He shrugged. "As I told you, Shacklebolt is a good Auror. Pain in the ass, and too smug for his own good, but competent. He might be able to get help from them."
Hermione doubted that, knowing what she did about international politics. But perhaps the Prussians were still ashamed enough of how easily they had fallen to, and then in with, Grindelwald to cooperate when it concerned the Dark Lord. Perhaps. She shrugged. "What about the rest of Germany?" Apart from Magical Prussia, there were a lot of other magical countries in Germany, after all.
He laughed. "Bavaria is the only other country there that has an effective Ministry. The others…" He shook his head. "They're far too small. But their rulers would loathe surrendering their power to the Prussian or Bavarian Governments."
"Typical," Hermione said, shaking her head. Politics were the same everywhere. "So all we can do is hope for the best." She sat down at her usual place at his table and tried not to show how much she hated this. Not that it would fool her tutor.
"Your friends are taking the Auror entrance exams today, right?"
She looked up from her magazine. "Yes." And both of them had been more nervous than they had been willing to admit, in her opinion.
"Black boasted that Potter would blow the testers away."
"Probably literally, if a duel is part of the test," Hermione said. Which, according to all the information she had helped gather, had gone out of style in the last few decades. "He's that good in Defence, and Ron's almost as good." And she wasn't, as much as she hated to admit that - even to herself.
He nodded, slowly. "Good enough to be a problem for you, once you go after Malfoy?"
Hermione shook her head. "No." They were better in a fight, but that wouldn't help them - Hermione wouldn't be seen in the first place. And it was unlikely that they would even be assigned to that case, anyway. "And Harry will be more interested in investigating Malfoy than a thief, anyway."
Mr Fletcher nodded, but Hermione couldn't help noticing that he didn't look like he was entirely confident in her assessment - she knew him well, too, after all.
She'd show him, though. She was a cat - born to prowl in the night. No dog or Auror would ever catch her.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, September 2nd, 1998
"Hi, Harry! Hi, Ron!"
"Hi, Hermione." Harry Potter didn't draw his wand, but he came close as his best female friend suddenly appeared in the hallway.
"Oi! Don't ambush us like that!" Apparently, Ron had almost drawn his wand too.
Hermione dismissed the complaint with a gesture and a grin. "I trust you not to curse me. How did your entrance exams go?"
Ron muttered something about priorities, but Harry nodded and said: "They went very well. I think we impressed the examiner."
Ron chuckled. "You said he paled when you told him about Moody training us."
"He did," Harry confirmed. "I would have expected that to be known, though."
"He might not have taken it seriously," Ron said, shrugging. "Or someone lied to him about it - Percy complains about that a lot. Says people keep trying to sabotage him."
"They'll try that with you as well," Hermione pointed out.
"Trust no one, as Moody said." Harry snorted. "But it'll probably go beyond the usual rookie hazing."
"They'll try," Ron said as he shrugged again.
"Aren't you supposed to trust the other Aurors to have your back?" Hermione asked.
"Moody said that that's a good way to get killed," Harry explained. "Even if someone doesn't plan to curse you in the back, odds are they're incompetent."
"Moody's standards are a little high, though," Ron cut in.
"And he sounds more than a little paranoid," Hermione added with a frown.
"He's still alive after two wars against Voldemort. And he taught us to stay alive," Harry retorted. "Incidentally, we'll need to step up your training, too."
"What?" Hermione stared at him.
"Selwyn's murderer could go after you next. You need to be ready to defend yourself," Harry said.
"I am." Hermione pursed her lips and glared at him. "You trained me, remember?"
"Yes. But I couldn't finish your training, so Sirius took over. I didn't push the matter after Voldemort and most of his followers were dead, but now?" Harry shook his head. "You only received an Acceptable in your Defence N.E.W.T."
"That's unacceptable," Ron added, with a grin.
Harry glared at him. This wasn't a joking matter. He looked at Hermione. "Come on! We can do some training before dinner. You'll need to change into more closely fitting clothes, too. Those robes are far too loose."
At least she had the right attitude, he thought, when he noticed how she clenched her teeth and glared at him.
If she ever got the drop on that murderer, she would kill him herself, Hermione Granger swore as she found herself once again sprawled on the stone floor of Grimmauld Place's duelling chamber - which, she noted, should be renamed the 'torture chamber'. It was all that unknown killer's fault that she was currently being tortured. His, and her well-meaning, but mistaken, best friend's. Who was in danger of losing that title if he continued hitting her with his uncannily accurate Stinging Hexes! She knew that even if she hadn't been sandbagging, she would have been hit far too often for her comfort. Far too often for her pride, too.
"That was better, but not good enough," Harry said. "Let's try that again."
She closed her eyes and groaned. "I'll be too sore to eat dinner." She wasn't whining. She was just expressing her pain and misery. Who would be so callous as to keep torturing her like this?
Harry, apparently. "You'll be fine," he said, and when she raised her head to look at him, he was smiling at her and offering her his hand.
She smiled back and reached up, but then froze before she actually touched him. "This isn't one of those 'never trust your opponent' lessons, is it?" she asked with narrowed eyes. The dog had done that and had said Moody was training Harry like that. If Harry were copying him...
He shook his head. "No, no. Not even Moody went that far. I promise I won't hurt you."
"You already did," she mumbled, but she took his hand and let him help her up.
He had a surprisingly gentle grip, she noticed, for someone who had spent the last ten minutes hexing her in various ways. It seemed not even a paranoid old Auror like Moody could change him too much. The duelling robes he was wearing suited him well, too. Much better than the Auror robes he'd soon be wearing, she was certain.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, his smile slipping a little at her words. "I just want you to be safe."
She felt guilty - he just wanted the best for her. "I know, and I understand," she said, squeezing his hand to reassure him before she released it. "I'm just griping. It's all Sirius's fault anyway."
He tilted his head slightly, looking confused. "What do you mean?"
She tried to sound as honest as she could. "If he had trained me properly, you wouldn't have to do this now."
That would teach the dog to lie to her about Moody's training methods!
"And I'll have words with him about that, trust me," Harry Potter said to his best female friend. "But you aren't blameless, are you?"
"It's the teacher's responsibility to ensure their students learn what they need." She pouted at him, which was a surprisingly cute expression on her.
He was used to that look, though, if not from her. Parvati had pouted too. And Romilda. He forced the memories of his ex-girlfriends away. "So, when you helped us study back in our first year, it was your fault when we didn't do better on the tests?"
Now she was frowning at him, and he chuckled. "Technically, I wasn't your teacher."
"Tutor, teacher…" Harry shrugged. He quickly grew serious again, though. "It doesn't really matter whose fault it was, though. What matters is that we do it properly this time." He wouldn't leave her unable to defend herself with a murderer on the loose.
"We?"
"You and me," he answered. Ron was busy talking to Luna through the mirror Sirius had given them and Harry had a feeling that his friend would be doing that in his spare time quite often. But that was OK - Harry didn't really need help training Hermione anyway.
She nodded. "It's a good thing we're doing this in private," she said. "If people heard that we were spending our evenings together like this, there would be even more rumours about us having an affair." And with a surprisingly saucy grin, she pointed at her clothes, which had been slightly torn up during their last bout, and added: "Especially if you keep wrecking my clothes in training."
Harry managed to swallow the first response that he thought of - if he used one of Sirius's lines on Hermione… Instead, he shook his head. "Technically, you damaged them while you were attempting to dodge my hexes." On a whim, he drew his wand and mended her robes. "But they're fixed now."
He was slightly annoyed to discover that she didn't seem to trust his skill with the Mending Charm and proceeded to pat herself down to check if he had missed a rip or tear. Annoyed, but also distracted - Hermione really looked far more attractive in tighter robes.
London, Ministry of Magic, September 8th, 1998
"...do hereby swear to faithfully serve and defend Wizarding Britain and uphold and maintain the laws of our country as an Auror, with magic as my witness."
Harry Potter lowered his wand from where he had held it in front of him in a salute.
Bones gave him a hard stare as she nodded at him. "Rejoin the formation, Auror Potter!" she ordered, and Harry took a step back into the line formed by the other new Aurors.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Bones called the next - and last - new Auror.
Harry glanced to his right as Ron took a step forward, saluted their new superior with his wand and held his pose.
"Mr Weasley, do you swear to faithfully serve and defend Wizarding Britain and uphold and maintain the laws of our country as an Auror?"
"I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, do hereby swear to faithfully serve and defend Wizarding Britain and uphold and maintain the laws of our country as an Auror, with magic as my witness."
Having heard it nine times now from Bones, and eight times from his fellow Aurors, the oath didn't sound as impressive any more or, at least, Harry thought so. He didn't show even a hint of that, of course. Not when Bones was paying such close attention.
"Rejoin the formation, Auror Weasley!"
Bones let them wait for a few seconds, looking them over, before she spoke. Harry thought that she was probably trying to make them nervous. But she was no Moody.
"You are now Aurors, sworn to uphold and maintain our laws. You will do your duty no matter the cost. Faithfully, diligently and honestly. You will neither favour nor discriminate against anyone, but conduct yourself in the impeccable manner expected from every member of the Auror Corps. As long as you are wearing those red robes, it doesn't matter who your parents are, nor does it matter which house you were in at Hogwarts. You're Aurors first and foremost - and you will not let your comrades-in-arms down. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am!" Harry answered, together with everyone else - not that he was looking at them; he was keeping his attention on Bones.
"Very well." She gave them another brief nod. "Head Auror Scrimgeour will give your first assignments. Dismissed."
As soon as Bones and the Ministry clerks who had served as witnesses had left the room, one of the other new Aurors - Elton Smith, who was not part of the main branch of that family, as far as Harry knew - spoke up. "Wow, talk about a warm welcome. I thought she would curse us all if we didn't agree as loudly as we could."
"She's uptight, but not that bad, or so I heard," Nott said. "Something, or someone, must have provoked her." He made a point of looking at Harry.
Harry smiled at him, showing his teeth. "Unlike some others, she probably hasn't forgotten just how many Death Eaters were found amongst the Ministry's ranks last year."
"I thought she was downright friendly," Ron added with a grin. "Compared to Moody, at least. He would have sent a few curses at us just to test our reflexes."
Nott rolled his eyes in a rather theatrical fashion. "Couldn't go for five minutes without mentioning how you defeated the Dark Lord, could you? Or how you were trained by Mad-Eye Moody himself?" He scoffed.
Harry raised his eyebrows at the former Slytherin. "Really, Nott? You're the one who keeps trying to make this all about me." He shook his head. "This is exactly what Bones was telling us: Stop acting as if we were still at Hogwarts. You're an Auror now, not a Slytherin trying to impress his friends by taunting the Gryffindors."
"And we've got far more important things to worry about than your fragile ego. We're dealing with murderers and dark wizards," Ron chimed in. "You think Bones was angry?" He snorted. "Did Snape coddle you lot that much? We're not at school any more. If you can't deal with Bones not inviting you to tea and pumpkin juice, then you might not be cut out for this job." He scoffed. "And you can bet that she won't tolerate that kind of attitude."
"Bones also won't tolerate you trying to take the law into your own hands," Nott shot back. "Don't think being the Boy-Who-Lived will protect you."
"I'm not going to take the law into my own hands," Harry replied, staring at Nott, "but I'll be doing what we all just swore to do: Enforce the law no matter who is involved."
Nott clenched his teeth - Harry could see his jaw muscles twitch - but he couldn't say anything against that.
Bathilda Meringworth, one of the new Aurors who had been a year above Harry at Hogwarts, cleared her throat. "So, how about we don't keep the Head Auror waiting?"
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Otherwise we risk getting even worse duties than new Aurors usually do."
"Oh?" Nott didn't quite sneer like Malfoy, but he came close. "Afraid that you won't get special treatment?"
"Shouldn't that be your line?" Ron shook his head. "Let's go before Nott makes us all late."
"Yeah." Harry followed his friend while Nott protested that it wasn't his fault but theirs. But Harry didn't think many were listening.
A few minutes later, Bathilda knocked on the door to the Head Auror's office.
"Enter!" Harry heard Scrimgeour briskly call through the door.
Bathilda hesitated for just a moment, then opened the door.
"Ah, there you are!" The Head Auror was smiling at them, but in a polite, not a friendly, way. He stood as they lined up in front of his desk - a little like gathering in the Headmaster's office, Harry thought. Although he'd never been there with so many others. "Welcome to the Corps!" Scrimgeour said and came around his desk to shake their hands. He had a firm grip, but his smile never really grew warm. "I'm glad to see so many promising young wizards and witches joining us."
"We're glad to be here," Harry said.
"I've no doubt about that." Scrimgeour nodded at him, then at Ron. "You two, more than anyone else, are aware of what becoming an Auror ultimately means - the willingness to risk your lives fighting dark wizards." His smile vanished. "We do a lot more than hunting dark wizards. We patrol the streets, we help when disaster strikes, we investigate thefts and other petty crimes and we intervene when things in a pub or at a Quidditch Match get out of hand. But the odds are that all of you will be facing another wizard trying to kill you at some point in your career. As the last conflict proved, you can't even count on being safe inside the Ministry." He nodded again. "That means every Auror is expected to train regularly to keep sharp. I don't care if you end up in supply or the archives - as long as you wear these red robes, you will live up to what they stand for."
"Yes, sir!" Harry and Ron said in unison, followed a fraction of a second later by the slower rookies.
Scrimgeour didn't comment on their ragged performance. "The Corps has regular training sessions you can attend during your working hours. And you'll be regularly evaluated."
"What happens if we fail the evaluation?" Smith asked.
Scrimgeour's smile turned rather sardonic. "Then you'll receive special training until you meet our standards again - in your free time. And it'll affect your promotion prospects."
"Ah." Smith nodded as if that hadn't been obvious.
"Now, before we go over your first assignments, there's something else you'll need to know and take to heart: I'm the Head Auror, which means that you'll be following my orders. Even the Minister and Bones herself have to go through me to order you around. Unless I'm telling you to follow their orders, you don't. We're the Auror Corps, not the Wizengamot's helpers. Understood?" He glared at them.
"Yes, sir!" This time, everyone answered more or less together.
"Good. Now, about your first assignments. You've passed the entrance exam, but you still need to learn how the Corps works. For your first week, you'll follow around an experienced Auror who'll show you the ropes. After that, you'll get your first assignment."
"Knockturn Alley night shift," Harry heard Smith mutter. The man really wasn't the brightest of their group.
Scrimgeour fixed Smith with a glare. "Who told you that?" Before Smith could answer, the Head Auror went on: "It's wrong. Dead wrong. We don't send rookies into Knockturn Alley - that'd be a recipe for disaster." He shook his head. "You'll be assigned posts according to your qualifications. There won't be any special treatment, either - I don't care who your relatives are." With a grin, he added: "But as rookies, you'll get the graveyard shifts - ten in the evening to six in the morning - more often than not."
Harry frowned when he heard several of his colleagues groan at that. What did they expect? That they'd only have to hunt criminals during office hours? He glanced at Ron, who seemed to share his sentiments.
Scrimgeour chuckled. "Every one of us went through this. In a year or two, you'll be smiling at the next bunch of rookies." He tapped a piece of paper on his desk with his wand. It folded itself into a paper aeroplane and flew out of the office. "I've sent a message to Auror Dawlish that he can now take over your introduction to the Corps. He'll also be answering any questions you might have."
Harry wanted to groan. Of all the Aurors available, it had to be Dawlish!
London, Ministry of Magic, September 8th, 1998
"And here's the break room. Regulations state that you can take a break for a quarter of an hour per half-day." Dawlish grinned. "Of course, no one's going to time you, unless you overdo it and start living in the break room."
Harry Potter smiled politely as most of the group laughed at Dawlish's feeble joke. He wasn't feeling too kindly towards the man after Dawlish had started their introduction to the Auror offices by pointing out where the bathrooms were and telling them a story about a rookie Auror who couldn't find them and was consistently given the wrong directions by anyone he asked for help.
"Did anyone actually try that?" Smith asked, triggering another bout of laughter and a derisive sneer from Nott.
To Harry's surprise, Dawlish only chuckled once and then nodded. "Well, back in the war - the first war against the Dark Lord, back in the seventies - so many were murdered in their homes, a number of us started to live in the Ministry." For a moment, he seemed to look at something no one else could see. "Of course, with so many spies inside the Ministry, it wasn't that much safer. But it helped."
No one was smiling any more. Nor saying anything. Dawlish cleared his throat. "Anyway - no one's going to time you, but no one will let you slack off either. As far as the Corps is concerned, you're all fresh meat, and you'll have to earn our respect. Every one of you." He was looking straight at Harry as he said that part.
Harry didn't show any reaction. He had expected that. Especially from people like Dawlish. The Auror might have fought in the last war, and he might not be as much of a moron as Hermione's description had made him out to be, but he hadn't really impressed Harry either.
Nor Ron, if his friend's careful lack of expression was any indication. Nott, on the other hand…
"Of course, sir," Nott said with an - in Harry's opinion - obviously fake smile. "We'd be fools to assume that we'd know better than an experienced Auror."
"Exactly." Dawlish nodded. "It takes more than the ability to fight to be a good Auror."
Once more he looked straight at Harry.
And this time, Harry narrowed his eyes when he stared back.
"Alright, it's time for lunch," Dawlish announced two hours later. "The Ministry has a mess hall and, today, we'll eat there - so you'll understand why we usually eat in Diagon Alley."
Harry Potter snorted. That was actually - if only slightly - funny. Unlike most of Dawlish's jokes.
"If the food is so bad, why does the Ministry keep the mess hall?" Smith asked. "Wouldn't it be better to close it?"
"It's mostly for the Hit-Wizards," Dawlish said. "They can eat there for free."
"And we need to pay?" Nott asked with a frown.
"We get paid more than them," Dawlish said with a grin. "Even as rookie Aurors." He tapped his temple. "Aurors need to be smart. Hit-Wizards just need to fight." He shrugged. "And they pretty much can't do anything but fight, so they're not too useful."
Harry clenched his teeth together. That was another barb aimed at Ron and him. But he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of seeing Harry lose his temper. He had suffered through five years of Snape - and Dawlish wasn't nearly as bad as the Potions Master had been.
And when he saw who was approaching them from behind Dawlish's back, he couldn't help smiling.
"You would think that, Dawlish, wouldn't you?" Moody growled, and Harry had to struggle not to laugh out loud when Dawlish let out a gasp and whirled around, obviously startled. The old Auror scoffed. "When you barely know one end of your wand from the other when it comes to fighting, you shouldn't talk about Hit-Wizards like that."
As Dawlish gasped again - out of anger this time - Moody stepped past him and looked the group over. "You're the new lot, huh." His artificial eye was spinning madly, and his scarred face twisted into a familiar grin. "I'm Mad-Eye Moody. You might've heard of me."
A number of their group had grown pale, Harry noticed with a frown. Moody was impressive, but not that scary. Or, perhaps, he and Ron had just grown used to the man.
"Yes, sir," Bathilda said.
"Potter and Weasley been telling stories?" Moody asked, his good eye glancing at them while the other kept spinning.
"No, sir," Bathilda said.
The old Auror snorted.
"What do you want, Moody?" Dawlish spat.
"Just keeping an eye on the fresh meat," Moody answered. "Constant Vigilance!" he suddenly yelled, causing more gasping among the new Aurors. He scoffed again. "And I'll be borrowing Potter and Weasley for lunch."
"What?" Dawlish said. "You…"
"It's a private matter," Moody cut him off, then turned to Ron and Harry. "Come on, you two."
"Alright!" Harry said with a smile. That kind of special treatment wouldn't do him any good with Dawlish, or with Nott and the others, he knew, but, right then, he didn't care.
London, Soho, September 8th, 1998
"A muggle fish and chips shop?" Harry Potter didn't bother trying to hide his surprise. Of all the possible places Moody could have taken him and Ron for lunch, he had picked this shop in muggle London?
Moody snorted. "Did you expect me to eat in the Leaky Cauldron? Didn't you use your glasses to check the kitchen there? I wouldn't touch anything their cook has gotten their hands on."
Harry grimaced and vowed never to eat there again. And to get back at Tonks for meeting him there.
"Did you randomly pick a muggle fish and chips shop from the phone book?" Ron asked while Harry tried to find his appetite again.
"Good thinking, Weasley!" Moody twisted his scarred face into a smile. "No, I picked it at random from a list of the best fish and chips shops in London. Certainly beats the mess hall in the Ministry."
Harry couldn't tell if the old Auror was serious or not - it sounded a little too predictable to be true. Or it could be misinformation. So he simply nodded as he took a seat. "Thank you. I wasn't looking forward to eating while Dawlish prattled about how experienced Aurors knew best how to use the silverware and how every rookie should pay attention."
Moody guffawed. "Sounds like him."
"But now Nott'll be running his mouth about us getting special treatment on account of Harry's fame," Ron said once they had ordered their meals. "And the other rookies will probably be jealous. That'll make working with them more difficult."
Moody scoffed. "I've kept an eye on that lot. You won't be working with them anyway."
"Bones was quite clear about cooperation," Harry remarked.
"Of course she was. She has to be, or the idiots filling the bottom ranks would make an even greater mess. But at the end of the day, results matter. And you two won't get any results trying to fit in with a bunch of morons who couldn't fight or find their way out of a paper bag."
"They're not all like that," Harry said. Smith, probably. And Nott. Maybe Anderson too. Tuckleton hadn't exactly asked smart questions either.
"Most are. And the rest don't seem smart enough to realise that Dawlish's full of hot air." Moody took a deep gulp from his water. "Mind you, he usually is a good fit for our new recruits - most of them need to be told that there won't be any special treatment for them, no matter whose child they are. But he doesn't understand that there are people who deserve special treatment."
"We'll be stepping on many toes, though," Harry pointed out.
"You'd do that no matter how much you tried to act as if you were 'normal'. You two fought the Dark Lord. Few have done that and lived. Just don't behave arrogantly, don't make enemies out of them - they can do you some harm - but don't try to fit in with them. It won't work. People will be jealous anyway. Malfoy's got his helpers in the Corps, and I just know that the Dark Lord has a few moles left we missed in the purge. They're unlikely to expose themselves, but they'll try to sabotage you and spread rumours about you."
"Great," Harry muttered. "It's like Potions with Snape and the Slytherins again."
"Be glad if it doesn't get worse than that," Moody said. "Anyway, I've already talked to Scrimgeour about your next assignment. Don't worry about getting bored."
Harry wasn't sure if he should be happy or afraid, seeing the man grin. "You didn't drag us out of the Ministry just for that, though," he said.
"No, I didn't." Moody nodded. He looked around, then continued: "I've heard back from some old friends in Prussia. Nothing official, mind you. But generally solid information. They've told me about a few suspicious deaths in Hanover. Rituals, but no blood magic - or so they claim. Failed rituals."
"Failed rituals?" Ron asked.
"The sacrifice was done, but the ritual didn't work - of course, that presumes that whoever's acting as the expert in that country did their work thoroughly and wasn't too inept to spot the traces of a successful ritual."
"The sacrifice?" Ron asked, munching on a chip.
"Human sacrifice." Moody lowered his voice. "And judging by what my friends heard, what the Hanoverians could reconstruct from the sites matches what the Unspeakables think the Dark Lord's first rituals were like. The ones that granted him a body."
"Someone's trying to bring him back?" Harry said.
"It's hard to tell since they tried to erase their tracks. But it seems they tried several times but failed every time. No surprise, of course - the anchors are gone." Moody showed his teeth. "Now, what do you think a Death Eater loyal enough to attempt to resurrect the Dark Lord several times will do once he has to admit that his master's dead?"
That was an easy question. "He's going to avenge him," Harry said.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, September 9th, 1998
"Hermione? Are you decent?"
Hermione Granger rolled her eyes at Sirius's question as she pivoted in her swivel chair to face the door before unlocking it with a wave of her wand. "Come in."
Sirius entered, followed by Jeanne. Hermione checked her watch. Harry wouldn't be back for another two hours. She cast a privacy charm anyway.
"I've just heard from Tonks that Malfoy's asking for a protection detail," Sirius said as soon as the slight humming of the spell filled the air.
Hermione nodded. She had expected that as soon as the information about the rituals and blood magic got out. "You didn't ask for guards as well, did you?" If he had, she'd hex the dog.
"No." He shook his head. "That would interfere with our life and our plans. Although I'd like to improve our security."
"We should hunt the murderer down and kill him," Jeanne said. "That would improve our security considerably."
And it would let the witch avenge her father, Hermione thought. For all her problems with him, Jeanne had taken his loss more seriously than anyone, probably including herself, had expected. "Tempting," Hermione said, "But even if we call up the Order - and I don't know if that would work - what can we do that the DMLE can't? A number of the Order members are Aurors, after all."
"We can break the law to get the murderer," Jeanne said. "We don't have to wait for sufficient suspicion or even proof."
"For that, we'd need to find the murderer first, which is kind of difficult," Hermione retorted. "I think the DMLE has the better chance of succeeding at that than we do."
"And Bones would not be pleased if we acted like vigilantes," Sirius added. "Harry told me she warned him off again yesterday."
"So if we try to hunt the murderer ourselves, we'll probably end up distracting or even hindering the DMLE," Hermione added. And she didn't want Bones to start investigating them. She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment, then decided to make the suggestion - she had been a Gryffindor. "There is one thing we could do that the DMLE can't do, but I would strongly advise against it."
Jeanne's eyes widened for a moment. "You mean using ourselves as bait for a trap?"
Hermione nodded.
"Out of the question," Sirius barked.
"I agree," Hermione said. "We don't know anything about the murderer or what he's capable of. It would be too dangerous."
"But I want to do something!" Jeanne protested, baring her teeth.
"Mr Fletcher's acquaintances are looking into the matter. It's not like we're doing nothing," Hermione pointed out. "On the other hand, Malfoy pushing the DMLE to hunt the murderer down at all costs also creates an opportunity for revenge."
"Malfoy will be protected far better than before," Sirius said. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You've been holed up in your room for the last few days, barely spending time with any of us. What are you planning?"
Hermione felt a stab of guilt for neglecting her friends - and especially Harry, whose first week at work was turning out a little more difficult than he had expected - and brushed back behind her ear a lock that had fallen into her face. "With the DMLE focusing on hunting the murderer and protecting a panicking Malfoy, there is a great opportunity to strike at those targets who aren't going to be protected."
Sirius started to grin. "Umbridge or Skeeter?"
Hermione grinned back. "Neither. Borgin."
That rat would pay for what he had done to her. With interest.
London, No 12 Grimmauld Place, September 11th, 1998
Hermione Granger resisted the urge to summon the newspaper when she heard Sirius curse after picking up the Daily Prophet. Instead, she asked: "What's wrong?"
Sirius held up the front page. Half of it was taken up by a large headline:
IS THE DARK LORD BACK?
"Skeeter couldn't resist, then," she said, pursing her lips.
Sirius shook his head as he skimmed the article. "No, she couldn't. Full of speculation and fear-mongering - she mentions that it could be a Death Eater in hiding, but cites the fact that the Unspeakables haven't found any proof of Voldemort's return as proof that his return can't be disproven and is therefore possible."
"I hope Malfoy buries her for this," Harry said. "Most of his friends will drop him like a cursed wand if they think Voldemort is back and coming for him."
"Oh, yes. Lucius won't be happy at all - Skeeter mentions that 'his insistence on being guarded by Aurors now has an explanation'." Sirius grinned in a rather feral manner, then read on. "Merlin's buttocks! She even speculates that the murderer might be one of the Death Eaters incarcerated in Azkaban who escaped after the Dementors were removed and that the Ministry is keeping it a secret so the people don't lose faith in them!" He snorted. "I don't know if I should be offended that she's trying to undermine my fame as the only one ever to escape Azkaban."
"How exactly did you manage that?" Harry asked. "You never told us how you did it."
"With good reason," Sirius said. "If the secret were out, others could do it as well."
"What if someone did?" Harry asked.
Sirius shook his head. "The new changes after they removed the Dementors would have prevented that. Besides, all of my former fellow inmates are accounted for - trust me, not even the guards there are so inept as to lose a prisoner without noticing, no matter what you've heard about Hit-Wizards from the other Aurors."
"Still, how did you escape?" Harry pressed.
Sirius shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Harry. I'm trying to forget my time there."
Hermione saw Harry's eyes widen at hearing that, and she pressed her lips together so she wouldn't scold the dog for making her friend feel guilty like that. She took a deep breath to calm down. "We should focus on the consequences of this article. This will scare a lot of people. And if they think the Ministry is at fault..."
Harry groaned. "Great. I hope they're too scared to start a riot."
"If they aren't, it's all Skeeter's fault," Ron muttered. "Luna loathes her, you know. And it takes a lot to make her feel that way about anyone."
"If we were in France, we could have duelled her long before this," Jeanne said, frowning. "But you had to go and outlaw them."
"They're illegal in France as well," Hermione pointed out.
"But nobody enforces that," Jeanne replied.
"Well, I'm glad that in Britain, people can't pay a killer to duel a rival," Hermione said. Malfoy would have abused that terribly.
"They can't do that in France either!" Jeanne protested. "That would ruin their reputation."
"Malfoy wouldn't care," Harry said. "Or he'd deny his involvement."
"Of course, he could be duelled as well," Ron said, grinning.
"It's not that easy," Jeanne explained. "There are rules about duels. You can't just insult someone until they challenge you. Although if the British abuse duels like that, no wonder they have been outlawed."
"Oh, yes," Sirius chimed in, "my family removed a number of their rivals through duels. Of course, we usually didn't have to pay anyone to fight for us - if you couldn't fight, you wouldn't last long as a Black anyway."
Harry cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt this fascinating discussion about the merits of duelling, but Ron and I need to go, or we'll be late for our shift."
"I really hope people will be too scared to riot," Ron added as he stood, grabbing another croissant - presumably to eat on the way.
Hermione bit her lower lip, then stood. "Wait!"
Both boys turned. "Yes?" Harry asked.
She didn't say anything, just hugged him. "Stay safe," she whispered into his ear.
"You too," she added, hugging Ron.
If anything happened to them because of that article… She clenched her teeth until they hurt.
London, Ministry of Magic, September 11th, 1998
You could almost feel the fear, Harry Potter thought as he walked through the Atrium to the lifts. Fewer people, and those he saw were all acting as if they expected a Death Eater to attack them at any moment. Even the Hit-Wizard guards were nervous - so nervous that Harry surreptitiously drew his wand, just in case they started casting at shadows and he needed a quick Shield Charm. Fortunately, they reached the lifts without incident.
"Merlin's beard!" Ron cursed. "I think they were less scared when Voldemort had invaded the Ministry."
Harry shrugged. "Well, he died then. This is new."
"Bloody Skeeter," Ron mumbled. "And people call The Quibbler untrustworthy!"
Harry didn't comment on that. "So, we're doing filing and archiving today. Can't wait."
Ron scoffed. "I'd rather do a night patrol through Knockturn Alley than that. Dawlish must have selected it just to torment us."
"I don't think so - for all his needling remarks, he hasn't actually tried to treat us differently," Harry said.
Ron shook his head. "He behaves towards Nott as if he were Snape and Nott Malfoy. I don't trust him."
"Well, according to Moody, we won't have to trust Dawlish," Harry said as they reached their floor.
And were greeted by a yelling Dawlish. "Potter! Weasley! Get over here! Right now!"
The Auror was at the back of the entrance, surrounded by most of the other rookie Aurors. Other Aurors were rushing out, some still adjusting their robes as they passed Harry and Ron on the way to the lifts.
"What's going on?" Harry asked as soon as they reached Dawlish.
"There's a riot in Diagon Alley. And they fear that it'll spill over into Gringotts, or muggle London."
Harry hissed. Either would be a catastrophe.
Dawlish nodded with a grim expression. "Exactly. We're going to stop it."
"Us?" Smith asked, looking both confused and frightened at the same time. The others didn't look any better, Harry noted - even Nott had lost his sneer.
"Not us alone!" Dawlish snapped. "We're going to support the other Aurors. We'll be behind them, dealing with anyone who manages to get past the first line." He took a deep breath. "Keep a Shield Charm up at all times. Don't use any lethal spells - Stunners only. I don't care what you think the rioters are doing, don't kill them. Understood? If you see anyone behind our lines who isn't an Auror, stun them. Otherwise, follow my lead. We're travelling by Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. Follow me!"
A minute later, they were in the Atrium again, rushing towards the Floo connections. Once Dawlish stepped into one and vanished, Ron leaned towards Harry. "Stunners only?" he whispered.
"As long as it works," Harry whispered back. He wasn't about to die because of such orders. "You know what Moody said."
Ron nodded - the Auror had said it often enough: 'Kill them before they kill you, if that's what it takes.'
Then it was their turn.
The Leaky Cauldron was packed with red robes and a few civilians. Scrimgeour was there, directing a mixed group of Aurors and Hit-Wizards. "Go out, get in the air, and reinforce the Aurors holding the line in front of Gringotts. Hold the line no matter the cost! Go!"
As the group rushed out, nearly trampling another civilian who fled inside, Harry heard Nott curse. "Why protect the goblins? They've got guards of their own!"
"Because their guards are just waiting for an excuse to kill wizards!" Dawlish snarled at Nott. "If a rioter tries to break into the bank, they'll consider it an attack and massacre everyone nearby."
Which would lead to war.
"Dawlish!" Scrimgeour had spotted their group. "Take the rookies and form a line outside the Cauldron."
"Yes, sir!" Dawlish bellowed. "Follow me, everyone!"
"Wait!" Scrimgeour held up his hand. "Potter! Weasley! You've got your brooms?"
Harry refrained from yelling that he always had his broom with him. "Yes, sir!"
"Fly to Gringotts and help the Aurors there!"
"Yes, sir!"
He and Ron rushed out of the Cauldron and unshrank their brooms. Moments later, they were in the air.
Diagon Alley looked terrible, Harry thought as he sped towards the bank. Smoke rose from several locations, obscuring the fires beneath and parts of the street. He heard screams and explosions and spells passed him from below as he flew in a weaving pattern.
"What is wrong with those people?" He heard Ron yell as they closed in on Gringotts. "Do they think Voldemort's hiding among the goblins?"
Harry didn't get to answer - the roof below him suddenly blew up, and he saw rocks and splinters hit his Shield Charm. Someone was moving there, too - but they were already past. And they had their orders.
The situation at the bank looked grim, Harry thought as he dived down to minimise his exposure while landing. The goblins were ready - he saw them standing in formation, blades and shields gleaming in the sunlight. Just waiting for an excuse, indeed.
And in front of them, with their backs to the goblins, stood about two dozen Aurors, their shields flaring under the impact of hexes and curses as they tried to keep the mob at bay. A mob that outnumbered them significantly.
There was no time or need to ask for orders. Harry simply touched down and rushed forward, shrinking his broom as he ran towards a gap in the line where an Auror had fallen to the ground. "Check him!" Harry yelled to Ron as he took the man's spot.
The rioters were standing about twenty yards away - far enough that aiming was a challenge for most of them, Harry noted - and had taken cover behind rubble, upturned carts and conjured walls. He was tempted to blow up their cover - but they weren't Death Eaters; he couldn't just kill them.
But he could conjure some cover for himself, as a few other Aurors had already done. Too few, in his opinion.
A few waves of his wand later, he was crouching behind a thick steel wall as spells flew past or hit the wall. He sent a few Stunners of his own back, but with the exception of one wizard who had exposed himself too much, he didn't hit anyone. It would be far easier if he were allowed to kill them, he thought. Or at least risk their deaths.
Ron joined him, wand drawn. "I've stabilised the guy," he yelled. "But he'll need to get to St Mungo's. Soon."
More spells hit the wall, the ground in front and, presumably, Gringotts behind them. Harry glanced over his shoulder. The goblins were still there. They hadn't taken cover. Hadn't even closed the doors. They really were that eager for an excuse to start a war, he realised.
And for a moment, he was tempted to give them their war.
But then the yelling from the rioters grew in volume, and, moments later, he heard screams from the Aurors. "Here they come!"
Once more Harry had to keep himself from using a Blasting Curse to lay waste to the attackers. Instead, he started to cast Stunners as fast as he could. One fell, followed by another. Ron took out a third but missed the fourth when the wizard stumbled over the others and fell to the ground. Harry caught him with another Stunner. And, all along the line, others met with the same fate - dozens of wizards and witches collapsing.
The Aurors didn't escape unscathed, though - he saw one collapse near him, and another rolled on the ground, screaming and burning, until someone doused him with water. And then the remaining mob hit the line at one point, then at another, crashing into the Aurors there.
Harry cursed and conjured walls to block their way to Gringotts while Ron started stunning them as they bunched up. It wasn't that difficult - few of them had cast Shield Charms. And, so far, no one seemed to have thought of reviving the stunned ones.
But the mob changed direction - and rushed straight towards them, rolling up the Auror line between them and Harry and Ron. Harry met them with a Water-Making Spell that swept the first ranks off their feet from the sheer force of the jet of water. Ron used the opportunity to stun the struggling attackers as fast as he could.
A group of them had cast Shield Charms, though - and Harry's spells splashed harmlessly against them. He grit his teeth and hit the first with a Bludgeoning Curse that shattered his shield and bowled him over. Ron took out the next with a quick Piercing Curse and Stunner, but the third jumped over their cover and crashed into Harry.
Both his and the attacker's shield shattered under the impact, and Harry was slammed into the ground, his breath knocked out of him. Reflexes took over, and he hit the man with a Bludgeoning Curse that threw him back a few yards.
Harry rolled over his aching shoulder, suppressing a scream at the pain that caused, and came up in a crouch, wand ready.
But there were no attackers left.
"Are you OK?" Ron asked, breathing heavily.
Harry nodded. "But that other one isn't," he said, pointing at his last attacker.
Ron scoffed, but nodded and went to stabilise the guy. Harry ran his wand over his shoulder until the pain lessened, then looked around. The ground was covered with people, both Aurors and rioters, with the dozen Aurors still standing doing their best to heal the wounded.
And the goblins were sneering at them from the bank's entrance.