Chapter Nine.

May ended. June passed, and then July. Hagrid came for Harry's birthday, but there wasn't a word from Ron or Hermione. August started, and on August the 18th, Harry found himself bent over his tenth letter to Hermione. She hadn't responded to any of them so far.

A drop of ink from Harry's quill fell onto the parchment. 'Home' became 'ome'.

Harry put down his quill with a soft sigh.

His only companion, Merel, sat in the window, staring longingly outside. The tawny owl hooted once, looked at Harry with its big, yellow eyes, and blinked, as if to ask: Ready?

Harry studied his ruined letter, looked at his owl, and shrugged slowly. 'Not today.'

Harry felt defeated. He hadn't just sent Hermione letters. He'd contacted Ron, too. He'd even gone to The Burrow twice, but Ron was never home. Harry didn't believe it, of course, and he was somewhat surprised to find how long Ron could stay angry at him. Their fights had always lasted a week or two at most.

It saddened him, too. Harry longed to speak to his friend, especially now that he was about to start Auror Training, which would be the first step of fulfilling a dream they both shared.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had offered Harry a position in return for the successful completion of a month of 'intense physical and mental training'. Auror Training would normally take three full years, but Shacklebolt had promised to make an exception for any applicants that had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.

'I expect you to pass with flying colours, of course', he had said to Harry. 'It's just a formality.'

So, Harry was beginning a new life, doing something he had always dreamed of doing, and his best friends weren't here to share it with.

Harry looked at his letter again and sat in silence for a few seconds, considering what he would do. Then, in a fluent motion, he picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote:

'Hermione,

I'll come to Hogwarts, soon. I want to see you.

Love,
Harry.'

Harry took the letter, shoved it in a leather scroll, and handed it to Merel. The owl hooted happily as Harry unlocked and opened the window.

'Safe flight, girl.'

The owl spread her wings wide, allowing her feathers to rustle in the wind, hooted once more, and took flight. Harry watched her disappear in the orange glow of the setting sun.

No response came, and when Harry finally visited Hogwarts on September 1st, Hermione was nowhere to be found. McGonagall confirmed to Harry that she had enrolled for her final year, and that she'd been excited to return, but that she hadn't seen Hermione since late July. At that point, Harry began to feel uncomfortable. He realised that he had hurt Hermione tremendously, of course; he'd rejected her when she was at her most vulnerable. Still, it was unlike Hermione to stay quiet for so long, and even more unlike Hermione to not be at Hogwarts for the first day of the school year.

Harry wrote to Luna that night, asking her if she had heard from Hermione. Luna's letter came in the early morning of September 6th. Merel dropped it into Harry's breakfast tea, and Harry burned his fingers trying to rescue it.

Luna wrote that she had spoken to Hermione only three days prior at breakfast. Apparently, Hermione had managed to find her parents all the way in Australia, and had succeeded in restoring their memories. She had spent the final days of summer settling them back into their home, and had arrived at Hogwarts two days late.

Harry was relieved to find out that she was safe and back at Hogwarts, but couldn't help but feel hurt at the thought that she had purposely ignored his letters.

Luna sent all her love, and said she hoped to see him soon.

Harry planned to. Really, he had every intention of going to Hogwarts that very week - but then he found himself caught up in training. Every morning, he presented himself at the Auror's office at eight, and he'd be there until eight, training as hard as he ever had. Despite Shacklebolt's earlier comments, which had been intended to put Harry at ease, Harry's future colleagues hadn't made it easy for him. He regularly came home with a blackened eye, burn, or a limp, and one evening, he hadn't been able to stop blinking for six hours after arrival.

During Duelling in the Dark, they threw curses at him, one after the other. Sometimes it'd just be one Auror, but more often than not, Harry fought three or four at the same time. He'd win, usually, but he never came out unscathed. These were professionals, and they wanted Harry to prove himself almost as desperately as they wanted to prove themselves to Harry.

When Harry took Concealment and Disguise, his body was finally given a rest, and he passed the course without any problems. Stealth and Tracking was equally as easy to Harry, and when he came home and sat down at his desk, he wished he could write to Tonks. She would have been proud, and jealous.

Method in the Mad-Eye exhausted Harry completely. He'd fight in an hour long duel, never being able to rest while his opponents took turns every ten minutes. When he'd finally beat the last one, he'd chased a well-rested opponent through a stone maze, while other Aurors sent curses and hexes at him from above. Then, when Harry finally caught the runaway, he was panting and dripping with sweat, but he stood tall and firm every time, and his colleagues always looked disgruntled to see that their efforts hadn't worked.

Despite the exhaustion, bruises, concussions, and sprains, however, Harry was doing well, and though Schacklebolt was pleased, he had also warned Harry, one evening before sending him home: 'Tomorrow is when the real trouble begins.'

'Tomorrow', October 1st, marked the beginning of Harry's mental training. In these last few days, the Office would test Harry's mental strength and endurance. Exactly what to expect, Harry did not know, but he had heard from other Aurors that this was the part of training where most applicants gave up. Some, they said, had even lost their minds. Harry knew, therefore, that it wouldn't be pretty, but despite what he thought to be his rigorous mental preparation, he couldn't have possibly readied himself well.

After his first day, Harry came home and felt, for the first time during his training so far, full of doubt.

An experienced Auror with a damningly serious face had put Harry under the Crucio curse, that day. The goal, Shacklebolt had said, was to see how soon Harry would give up vital information in case of torture. Captured Aurors almost never came out alive and sane, he'd explained, because they had been trained to keep quiet, because they had endured the worst pain imaginable and conquered it, but the ones that did break posed a serious threat to the Ministry, and the Wizarding World. As such, they were trained to endure.

Harry had been in absolute agony, in mind-numbing pain, for three minutes and thirty-three seconds before Shacklebolt stopped the test. 'Most', Shacklebolt had said afterwards, with a wide smile on his face, 'last two minutes, the first time.' He had looked at Harry reassuringly and said: 'I'm impressed.'

Harry, however, wasn't so sure that he would be able to endure thirty more days of this torture. More things were coming, he knew. Tricks of the mind, illusions, and other challenges, designed to hurt him as much as possible. Harry also knew that when it came to hurting him, there'd be a lot for the Aurors to work with.

Harry sat in front of the fire, that October night, with Merel perched upon his knee, and wished, more than anything, that his friends would respond to his letters.