"BING BANG BING BONG! BONG BING BANG BONG!" Harry fell out of his bed as the immensely loud doorbell rang. He glanced at his bedside clock. He had slept in.

It was 12:45. Harry got up off of the cold floor and walked downstairs, still in his pajamas.

"I'm coming!" Harry yelled as the person outside rang the bell again. He pulled open the door and saw Ron standing outside.

"Well, well, well," Ron said, eyeing Harry's bed-hair and his stubble covered chin and jaw. "I'm sure that Rita Skeeter would love to get a picture of this."

"Shut up," Harry yawned. Harry invited Ron inside and asked him if he wanted anything to eat. Plinky, their house elf, came running up to Ron and took his cloak.

Ron followed Harry into the kitchen. A note was pinned to the door, saying that James had to run to work early and wouldn't be back until later that night.

"So," Ron said, sitting down on one of the stools and starting to munch on the chocolate chip pancakes that Plinky had placed in front of them. "How's bachelor life?"

Harry gave a dry laugh. "You heard?"

"Yeah, front page on the Daily Prophet 'Harry Potter-bachelor'. I'm surprised that you don't have girls banging down the door," Ron joked. "But seriously, Ginny broke up with you?"

"I guess," Harry said slowly. "The whole incident is sort of blurry right now. She said that she was going to write me while she's away."

"Oh, well… maybe it was for the best," Ron said lamely. "I mean, it would be hard t-"

"-To keep up a relationship while she's at school, I know," Harry said. Ron looked at Harry and said. "Want to go to the Grind? You look like you could use some coffee right now."

"Nah," Harry replied. "I've got to get ready for a meeting I have to go to."

"Really? Where?" Ron asked.

"The Department of Mysteries."

Ron raised his eyebrows.

"Really? The Department of Mysteries?" Ron choked out. "Jesus Christ, it usually takes the most skilled wizards years to get into the D. M. Are they offering you a job?"

"I think so," Harry said, with pancake in his mouth. "Well, they also want to talk about the Deathday Curse and all that stuff."

"Wow," Ron said. All of a sudden, Hermione appeared out of nowhere.

"Harry!" She squealed. "Are you all right? Ginny owled me last night, saying that you two had broken up."

"I'm fine Herm," Harry said. "Really." Hermione looked at him with a disbelieving look on her face. Then she noticed Ron.

"Oh, Ron," She said. "I need to talk to you."

"'Bout what?" Ron asked.

"Well, I've got a business meeting to go to in France and-"

"Don't tell me you're breaking up with me too!" Ron said, suddenly sounding panicked. "Herm, I don't know what I'll do without you!" Hermione blushed.

"Well, actually, Ron I was wondering if you'd like to come with me," Hermione blushed even more.

"Me?" Ron said hoarsely. "Go with you? I…er-"

"Of course, you'd be bored a lot of the time, when I'm at a meeting, but I'm sure you can go watch Quidditch or something," Hermione said. "But I would really like the company, I mean, the only other person that I'll be going with is a 87 year old witch who is constantly talking about her grandchildren."

"Sure," Ron said. "When?"
"In two weeks," Hermione said. "So you can come?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Ron said, still sounding a little dazed.

"Great," Hermione smiled and looked back at Harry.

"There's a rumor going around at the Ministry that the Department of Mysteries is offering you a job," Hermione said. "Is it true?"
"Yep," Harry said. "Of course, I've also been asked to tryout for the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, I'm not sure of which one I'll choose."

Ron spit out the juice that he had been drinking.
"You've been offered to join Puddlemere United?" He choked. "Harry, you have to choose that job."

"No way, being an Unspeakable is a much more rewarding job than being a Quidditch Player," Hermione said.

"Herm, do you understand what team we're talking about?" Ron asked. "Puddlemere United. One of the best Quidditch teams in the world! When Harry gets into that-"

"If, Ron, not when, IF! It's not sure that Harry will be asked to play," Hermione reminded.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said. "Hermione, you've seen Harry fly! There is no way that they can turn him down."

"You don't-"

"Hey, guys," Harry interrupted, looking at the clock that now read one thirty. "I have to go in 1 and a half hours, and I have to shower, make my hair at least semi-descant (and you know how long that takes), and get dressed. Then I actually have to find the Department of Mysteries. So, if you don't mind…"

"Of course we'll leave Harry," Hermione said. "I'll see you Ron." Ron kissed her on the mouth and then they both Disapparated.

"Accidental Magic Reversal Squad," Harry read off of the doors. "Goblin Liaison Office, Department of Muggle Artifacts, ah, here it is, Department of Mysteries." Harry looked at the shabby door that looked as though he might pull it off of its hinges if he attempted to open it. He reached out and turned the handle. The door squeaked as though it hadn't been opened in ages. Harry walked into a dark room that was lit only with a single candle. There were a couple of spindly chairs in the corner, by a table with a few dusty magazines. The door shut behind him and he sat down in one of the chairs.

"Mr. Potter?" A voice made him jump slightly. He looked up and waiting right in front of him was Croaker. He had seen Croaker before, once in his fourth year when he, the Weasleys, and Hermione had gone to the Quidditch World Cup.

"Welcome, Mr. Potter," Said Croaker, staring at him, and Harry felt his face go red as Croaker's eyes dart up to Harry's scar. "Follow me."

"All right," Harry said. He followed behind Croaker, down a dark hallway and too a door. Croaker pushed open the door and Harry saw what must have been a hundred wizards all rushing around in a brightly lit room, consulting pieces of parchment and other magical objects.

"Welcome, to the Department of Mysteries," said Croaker, smiling slightly at the look of awe on Harry's face. "Just to tell you, if you decide not to join us, we will have to wipe your memory. Nothing you learn today will go beyond these walls if you decide not to join us."

"Well, I have a bit of a problem," Harry admitted. "You see, I also have a chance to join a Quidditch team and-"

"We are aware of your invitation to tryout for the Puddlemere United Quidditch Team, Mr. Potter," said Croaker. "And for special cases, such as yours, we are able to make different arrangements. Such as, you might work for us at night."

"But then, when will I sleep?"
"We have a special pill that enables you to take a nap for eight minutes, and it feels like eight hours," Croaker explained. "Or we could set you up with a Time-Turner-"

"Please, not a Time-Turner," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Of course, we also have a field worker," Croaker said. "If you do indeed become a Quidditch player, than you will obviously travel. You could work on your case while you are there. We always need field workers."

"That would probably be the best one for me," Harry said. "If I get the Quidditch job."

"Over here," said Croaker. He was motioning to a door on the side of the room. Harry followed him into a room that looked like it was used for questioning criminals.

"Sit down," Croaker said, motioning to a chair under a bright light. Harry took a seat and looked at Croaker.

"Now, about the Deathday Curse," Croaker said, pulling out a piece of parchment for taking notes with. "How is it cast?"

"The incantation is Avada Decorpus Kadavra," Harry said. Croaker looked up in surprise.

"But that's like the Killing Curse-"

"I know," Harry said. "The Killing Curse is only part of the Deathday Curse."

"I see," Said Croaker, scribbling notes. "And Mr. Potter, do you by any chance know where the book is located."

"The last time I saw it was in the chamber with Voldemort."

"Well, we searched everywhere in that chamber when we removed his body. There wasn't a book anywhere."

"It is a very powerfully magical book," Harry said. "Maybe it went back to its original chamber."

"Hmmm…" Croaker said, writing another note. "I'll have someone look into that."

Croaker jotted down a few more notes and stood up.
"You have been of great assistance, Mr. Potter," said Croaker. "I'm going to have someone show you around the office now. That is, if you accept the job."

"I accept," Harry said, after a moment of thinking.

"Very Good, Mr. Potter," said Croaker, smiling and shaking his hand. "And now, I'll have Mr. Bode show you around." In an instant, another man appeared in the room.

"Follow me, Mr. Potter," Bode said.

Bode showed Harry all of the offices, introduced him to almost everyone, and said that they were having a training session for new employees the following weekend.

"Can't wait to see you there, Mr. Potter," Bode said, shaking his hand and disappearing. A few minutes later, Croaker was showing Harry to the door.

"Remember Mr. Potter," Croaker said. "Saturday, 1 o'clock."

"All right, see you," Harry said, opening the door and stepping outside.

"Goodbye Mr. Potter." Harry turned around to look at Croaker one more time, but all that was left in the room was the chairs, the table, and the flickering candle.

"I can't believe that you took the job at the D.M. instead of Quidditch," Ron said later that evening.

"Ron, I told you," Harry said. "They said I could be a field worker, depending on where the Quidditch team is traveling. And I can always Apparate anywhere if I need to."

"Yeah, I know…" Ron trailed off. "When are the tryouts?"

"On Friday," Harry said. "And then I have training for the D.M. on Saturday."

"What time does training end?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," Harry said. "Why?"

"I er… need you to help metopickoutapresentforHermione." Ron said hurriedly.

"What?"

"I. Need. You. To. Help. Me. Pick. Out. A. Present. For. Hermione." Ron said through gritted teeth. "Don't make me say it again."

"Why don't you just pick it out yourself, after all, she's your girlfriend."
"At least I still have one." Harry punched Ron in the shoulder.

"ALL RIGHT!" Yelled Wallus Verant, the captain of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team. "EVERYONE LINE UP!" Harry got in line next to a boy who looked as though he would break a broomstick just by sitting on it and a girl with auburn hair and large, ocean blue eyes.

"When I read off your last name, say what position you wish to play," said Wallus, picking up a clipboard.

"BURLINGTON!" He bellowed.
"Beater." Said a scrawny boy who looked terrified.

"HORATIO!"

"Seeker," said the boy standing next to Harry.

"KINGSTALL!"

"Beater."

"Why is it that pro-Quidditch captains always make you feel as though you're in the army," said the girl standing next to Harry quietly so Wallus wouldn't hear.

"Dunno," Harry whispered back. "Maybe it's in their job description to make this as much like Boot camp as possible." The girl chuckled.

"MATTEN!" Yelled Wallus.

"SIR, YES, SIR!" Yelled the girl next to Harry. "SIR! I PLAY BEATER SIR!" She lifted up her right hand and saluted him. Harry was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Thank you Matten," Wallus said sarcastically. "But if you keep that up I'm going to make you drop and give me 50."

"SIR! YES SIR!" Wallus rolled his eyes.

"POTTER!"
"Seeker," Harry said, shaking with laughter. After Wallus had finished reading off names, and then split them into groups, depending on what position they played.

The three other people who were trying out for Seeker kept staring avidly at Harry's scar. He was glad when they started the actual tryouts. He kept his mind on the game instead of the people staring at his forehead. Well, after five minutes, one of the Seekers opposing Harry had fallen off of his broom and the other one had been hit in the head with a stray Bludger, and gotten a concussion. It was only Harry and one other Seeker left. And, to put it mildly, the other Seeker was good.

Harry was trying to remember everything that he had learned from Oliver Wood and Sean. The other Seeker's Wronski Feint was perfect, and he looked as though he was one with the broomstick. Harry went into a sharp dive, pointing the tip of his broom straight down. The other Seeker followed suit. They both pulled out of the dive, only a few inches off of the ground. Harry hoped that the judges didn't notice his toes skim the ground, he wasn't supposed to touch it.

All of a sudden, out of no where, a Bludger came flying over to their side of the pitch. It went flying straight at the other Seeker, causing him to roll over in mid air to avoid it.

"WATCH IT!" Bellowed the opposing Seeker to someone on the ground.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" Shouted back the girl that Harry had been talking to earlier.

"WELL WATCH IT ANYWAY!" The Seeker flew away, cursing under his breath.

"That's good enough," said Wallus, with a magically modified voice. "Remember, don't owl us, we'll owl you."

Harry was walking out of the Quidditch pitch when he heard a voice calling to him.

"Hey! Potter!" It was the Matten girl. "Wait up!"

Harry stopped. She ran up to him and started to walk along side him.

"You were great," she said.

"So were you," Harry said. "Well, the bit of your playing that I saw anyway."

"Thanks. My favorite part was trying to knock the other Seekers off of their brooms."

"So you did mean to do that."

"Of course," said the Matten Girl.

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"Jersina," said the girl. "But all of my friends call me Jersey. And you, of course, are the famous Harry Potter."

"Of course," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "So, Jersey. Do you think that you'll make the team?"

"Well, personally, I believe that I kicked ass," Jersey said. "What do you think?"
"I think you kicked ass too," Harry said, glancing over at Jersey. He saw that she was smiling, and he smiled back.

"Have you ever been to the Grind?" Harry asked. "It's a coffee shop in Diagon-"

"Diagon Alley, it's one of my favorite places," Jersey said. "Why?"
"Well, I was wondering if…"

"Is the famous Harry Potter asking me out for coffee?" Jersey said, pretending to be shocked.

"Well, actually… yeah. I am." Jersey's smile broadened.
"I'd be happy to go with you."

"Okay… I'll meet you there on… Monday?"
"Monday's good."

"Seven?"

"Sure." Jersey smiled. "It's a date."