Author's note:
My apologies for taking so long with this one. I've had a busy few weeks and repeated loss of computer privileges, as well as a bad case of writer's block. And I recently had an AP Calculus exam that completely drained all my mental resources. Anyway, enjoy...and read the other story I'm working on alongside this one (When in Rome), although that's a very rough draft and the writing isn't all that great yet--I'll revise it sometime. Maybe I should get a beta reader--any suggestions? Read. Review? Please?
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter Five: An Arrival at the Ministry
Remus pounded once again on the door, then backed up slightly to frown at the brass nameplate that hung near the road, gleaming dully in the fading light despite the raindrops trickling steadily across its face. He waited a moment before extending his hand to knock yet again, but the knob turned and the door swung slowly open.
"Ah, it is you. I apologize for keeping you waiting."
"That's perfectly all right, Professor."
"Come in, Lupin." Professor Vincent Gregoram stood back from his front door, holding it wide open for Remus to follow him inside. He did so, and the Professor let the door swing back again with a snap.
"I'm telling you, nobody manages it that smoothly on his first try," a gravelly voice was echoing down the hall. "Like I said before, Albus, the Potter boy was the only one to manage it half as well, and he lost control after a few seconds. That's a difficult spell, and there's no way he could have done it cold and make it look so simple."
Before he or Gregoram could say anything, Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody turned into the entry hall. Dumbledore's face had the familiar countenance of quiet calm, but there was a distant look in his eye. Moody stopped suddenly as he noticed Remus.
"Lupin? That's right...I had forgotten." He seemed startled and as close to embarrassed as the grizzled Auror was likely to get. Remus had a strong feeling that he hadn't been meant to overhear the conversation, although it wasn't hard to guess what he had been talking about.
Dumbledore's vacant look vanished immediately, and he gave Remus a smile. "Good to see you here, Remus. Alastor and I were just going."
Remus nodded, and Dumbledore turned with a sigh back to Moody. "I will consider what you said, Alastor." Moody's lips tightened slightly, but he nodded with an almost grateful look as he bent down to pull on one of the galoshes lying on a mat in the hall.
"Thank you for coming," Gregoram was saying. "If there's anything I can do, Alastor...."
Moody grunted, slipping the boot on the rest of the way and reaching for a second, which he heaved unceremoniously onto his other foot. "Keep your eyes open. That's all I'm asking, though you won't have as much of a chance as I will."
With a final nod, Dumbledore and Moody turned away to walk back out into the steady drizzle.
"If you would come with me, Lupin?"
Remus turned to see Gregoram heading off down the hallway. He quickly removed his own boots and hurried along the corridor, taking a moment to examine his surroundings.
Gregoram's home was neat, with a minimum of furniture and decorations, but pleasant enough to be livable. The floor he was walking on had no carpeting, but the wood was polished to perfection. The corridor was lined with a few portraits--most of them, Remus assumed, of family and close friends--and little else. They reached an open doorway leading down a flight of stairs, and they walked downward, the steps creaking slightly under their feet. They emerged into what appeared to be Gregoram's study. It was a spacious room full of tables and shelves, mostly cluttered with books Remus would have liked to get a closer look at. He reached backward to pull the door shut behind him. A mere fraction of a second later, he snatched his hand back with a pained gasp.
"Is something the matter?" Gregoram was looking back at him, a puzzled frown on his face.
Remus shook his head, biting his lip as he stared down at his palm, which was suddenly raw and smarting. Gregoram's eyes widened slightly in comprehension as he looked beyond him at the doorknob.
"Silver, of course. My apologies. Is there anything I can get you to help?"
"No, it'll be fine. I've gotten worse from my parents' silverware."
The professor nodded to himself, then took a seat, inviting Remus to do the same.
"What have you been learning in those training sessions?"
"Nothing too difficult, except for the Patronus Charm, but--we started the Unforgivable Curses today."
Gregoram's eyes clouded over slightly. "I had heard about that. Mr. Crouch has been wanting to begin such a program for quite some time." He paused momentarily. "What do you think of it?"
Remus hesitated. "I can see why it's important to know about them, and to learn what it's like, but I don't like being encouraged to use them."
Something of his other thoughts must have shown on his face, because Gregoram raised his eyebrows slightly. "You know how the Unforgivable Curses--at least, Avada Kedavra--originated?"
He winced slightly despite himself. "I know. That doesn't help, but at least that hasn't been mentioned yet, and I don't think anyone else in the class knows."
"It's not common knowledge, Lupin. But I'm getting away from the point. Have you actually started learning how to apply the spells you've learned?"
"Not really. We haven't discussed the actual situations yet."
"Then that's where we'll start."
Remus found the next two hours incredibly fascinating. They discussed applications of curses and defenses, and Gregoram explained exactly what an Auror's job was. They hadn't discussed most of it in class, such as gathering information and how to act on it. Soon after the clock struck eight, the fireplace suddenly burst into bright orange flames, interrupting Gregoram's explanation of the advisability of using tracking charms.
"Ah!" the professor exclaimed. "Right on time, as usual. Just a moment, Lupin." He stood up and moved over to kneel by the fireplace. "Jonas?"
A man's head had appeared in the flames. Remus recognized it as belonging to Jonas McCaffrey, James' mentor who worked for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Are you ready, Vincent?"
"Both of us are. I'll be there in five minutes."
"Right."
The flames died down abruptly and the head disappeared.
"Where are we going, Professor?"
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You can Apparate, correct?"
"I can."
"Come along, then, Lupin." Gregoram disapparated on the spot, and Remus picked up his wand. "Apparo!"
The room blurred and disappeared as an unseen force plucked him from it. In its place was a swirling mist of shapes, distorted and barely visible beyond the white screen surrounding him. The sting of the silver on his palm disappeared, and his body was no longer visible. Thoughts drifted randomly through his head, reflected vaguely in the shapes beyond the screen, and he brought them to rest on the Ministry Offices, focusing them carefully. The shapes became more solid and slowed their spinning, coming to a complete halt within seconds as the screen disappeared. Merely visualizing the offices to begin with would have worked as well, but he found this more reliable. Small visualization errors had been known to cause misdirection and, on occasion, splinching.
"There you are, Lupin."
Gregoram was already there, along with James, who was looking extremely excited about something, and Jonas McCaffrey.
"So where are we going?" he asked.
"Remus Lupin, right?" McCaffrey responded. "We're giving you two your first trial run."
"At what?"
"At an encounter with Death Eaters."
Remus stared. "Already? We've barely started training--"
Gregoram nodded patiently. "You have, and that is why we are coming with you. The situation should not be extraordinarily challenging, and I have confidence in both of you to handle it well. We are, however, taking certain precautions. For instance, we are fixing an apparation point--here. This is important in every such situation, even for experienced Aurors. Should one of us give the command to Apparate, do so immediately, first fixing the office in your mind. Visualization is too inexact if you are in a hurry, as you will be, and if you wait to focus your thoughts and are injured, you may not be able to do so between disapparating and apparating. Understood?"
Remus and James both nodded.
"All right," said McCaffrey, glancing at his watch. "We've got time until we need to be there, so I can fill you in. The Ministry has been watching this particular group of Death Eaters for some time. Their comings and goings are pretty regular, even if they are concealed. There won't be more than two or three tonight, if everything works out the way we've predicted it, and we've got surprise on our side. The hideout is located in thick woods, so you should have very little trouble remaining hidden. Still, nobody take any chances. Either Vincent or I will tell you exactly when to strike. Use disarming and stunning spells only, unless it gets nasty. We want the Death Eaters unharmed--and we want you back unharmed as well. Think you can handle it? Good. We'll go now, and no talking. If you have to say something, whisper. Now, Apparate to 'Adam's Apple'. We give each location names to use. See you there."
In seconds, he was gone. Remus fixed his thoughts on Adam's Apple, whatever that meant, and whispered, "Apparo!" once again.
This time, he had no sooner seen the swirling white mist than a large apple tree materialized in front of him, along with Gregoram, James, and McCaffrey. Looking around, he saw that they were in a small clearing in a dense wood. It was quite dark by now, but he could still make out the shapes of other trees.
"Quietly now, and stay close," McCaffrey said in a low voice. He moved slowly away from the apple tree and towards a point in the forest that was slightly trampled down, leading them all into the woods.
James slipped in after him, followed by Remus, and then Gregoram too entered. "It's not far from here," the professor whispered.
Sure enough, they had hardly been walking for five minutes before McCaffrey stopped and motioned for them to get close. He pointed through the trees to a mound of rocks and dirt in another clearing. "Keep an eye over there," he said, "and alert us if there's any motion, there or in the surrounding area. Stay close enough to the ground that you won't be seen."
They spread out slightly to cover more ground. James grinned nervously at Remus, barely visible now that the half-moon was hidden in the trees. Remus returned the smile and turned back to the clearing, now down on his knees in the underbrush.
Well over a half an hour later, his legs had begun to cramp horribly, and there had been no sign of the Death Eaters, although several false alarms had been caused by various animals moving around. Remus had begun to wonder whether McCaffrey's predictions had been correct for that night when he saw James waving his hand, carefully concealed.
Gregoram, on Remus' other side, nodded back at James, indicating to Remus the large black shapes moving about on the edge of the clearing. Moments later, four people in black cloaks had emerged, heading for the rocks, wands aglow. They certainly were making very little effort to avoid being seen. He assumed they regarded this particular place as a safe haven, completely unknown to the Ministry's Aurors.
"A moment more," came McCaffrey's hushed voice.
"Now!"
This last was louder, enough so that the Death Eaters turned quickly toward the sound, whipping their wands out, but Remus and his companions had already moved.
"Expelliarmus!"
"Stupefy!"
"Fascilius!"
A jet of orange light shot out of Remus' wand, hitting the nearest Death Eater straight on. He just had time to see the man freeze as though caught in the grip of some unseen, enormous hand, letting his wand fall to the ground, before Remus had to duck to avoid the curse sent by one of the other Death Eaters. When he looked up, the smoke had cleared, and Gregoram was moving into the clearing, lowering his wand.
The whole thing had been perfectly timed. The Death Eaters hadn't had a chance. Two of them were lying on the ground, moaning dazedly, and one looked as though he had been stunned. McCaffrey bound those three and then followed Gregoram and James to the Death Eater Remus had disarmed. This one was writhing frantically, trying to escape the invisible bonds, but he stopped when McCaffrey pointed his wand threateningly at the Death Eater's throat.
"Morgan," he said in a tone of deepest satisfaction, throwing back the hood to reveal the petrified features of a handsome blond man. "You'll be interested to know that we've suspected you for some time. Are the four of you alone?"
Morgan nodded quickly, as though desperate to please. "I won't tolerate any lies, Morgan. Are you alone?" The man nodded again reassuringly.
"There's nobody else with us--we were going to meet the others in the hideaway--" His voice was shaking with suppressed anger and fear.
"How many of them are down there?" This was Gregoram, who had moved around to stand by McCaffrey.
"Only three--I think--"
"How do you enter the hideaway?"
"The password is Andromeda. There's a tunnel that opens and leads down--down--"
"Stop shaking and tell us, Morgan," McCaffrey snapped.
"Down to a door," Morgan gasped out, steadying his voice as best as he could. "You just open it and you can get into the only room."
"That's all?"
"That's all. What are you going to do with me?"
"Take you back to the Ministry, of course. Right after we pick up whoever's in there." McCaffrey turned to the others. "You want to go, Vincent? I'll stand guard while you take the trainees down."
"We will be back shortly."
As they moved to the rock entrance, Remus heard McCaffrey stun Morgan, who slumped unceremoniously to the ground.
"Quietly, now. Andromeda."
There was a crunching sound, and the ground seemed to melt away, revealing a tunnel leading down into the earth. At the end of it, Remus could make out a door in the light of Gregoram's wand.
"Strike immediately. We don't want them to have a chance to strike back."
He reached for the door and turned the handle.
"About time," came a voice from inside, "we--" Gregoram threw the door open.
"Stupefy!" Within seconds, smoke was curling up and down the tunnel to the loud bangs of six wands. Gradually, the sounds drew to a halt, and, coughing, the three of them emerged into the lower room.
There was one long table, strewn with papers and odd-looking objects, and several chairs. A lamp stood in the corner, lighting up the faces of the other three Death Eaters, every one out cold.
"Excellent," Gregoram said, smiling slightly. "Excellent work, both of you. Now, we need to get these three and the rest back to the Ministry. I have a feeling the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is going to be quite pleased with this." He waved a hand in the general direction of the Death Eaters and the paper-strewn table.
"Quite pleased indeed."
********
"Look at this!" Arthur Weasley was saying, brandishing a sheaf of parchment at Peter and glaring at his desk, which was covered in more papers and notes. "We finally get our own records in order, and they assign us to filing for the Law Enforcement Department."
Peter didn't reply, although he certainly sympathized. He'd been listening to the man's ranting for the past two hours, and they didn't seem to diminish the overflowing stacks any more than Peter's efforts had. Instead, he picked up his latest completed work and blew on it to dry the ink. He really hadn't thought the man could get so worked up about anything, but at the moment, his face was quite red enough with fury to rival his flaming hair.
Fortunately, before Arthur's tirade could take a turn for the worse, there was a knock on the door. Weasley took a moment to compose himself before opening it. Standing outside was Mundungus Fletcher, who was brought up short completely by Weasley's face. Peter remembered what Fletcher had said about being brought in to the Muggle Artifacts office on charges, and assumed that was why Arthur Weasley was frowning suspiciously at the other man as though he, too, was about to bring more work for him. It turned out to be quite the opposite.
Fletcher cleared his throat and apparently decided to ignore the less-than-warm reception. "Arthur, I'm here to take some of that parchment those Aurors brought in off your hands for filing. If you would be so kind as to--"
He had no chance to get any farther. Arthur Weasley had already scooped up half of the stacks on the table and was pressing them into Fletcher's arms, although numerous sheets managed to escape along the way. "Take them! Take them all!"
Fletcher turned to stare, bewildered, at Peter, who shrugged. "I--err--I think that's quite enough for the time being, Arthur...thank you...." And, staggering slightly, he backed out of the room and closed the door behind him, losing more parchment as he did so.
Peter watched Weasley as he collapsed, gritting his teeth, into a chair. "Sir, have you--err--been getting enough sleep lately?"
The other man stared at him for a moment, then began to laugh weakly. The red had begun to fade from his face, although his ears were still a deep burgundy. "You know, I haven't. The boys have the flu, and Molly's been exhausted, and...." He trailed off. "Pettigrew, would you mind checking to see if there's any coffee to be had in the building? I could use some."
"I'll be right back," Peter replied, exiting with some measure of relief. As it turned out, there was some coffee to be found, and he was just returning with a mug of it when he passed a wizard in the halls who was looking extremely lost. Upon noticing Peter, he turned to him, relief evident on his face.
"Excuse me...do you happen to know your way about the building?" he asked, in a voice that would have sounded much grander if it hadn't trailed out in a confusion at the end. The first thing Peter noticed about this man--who looked to be about his own age--was that he had extremely white (and extraordinarily large) teeth which were all bared at him in a semblance of a hopeful smile. By the time his eyes had adjusted to the brilliant reflected light, he was able to see that the robes the stranger was wearing were a particularly vivid shade of orange that clashed horribly with a peachy pink hat, perched precariously atop a head of nearly white hair that looked to have the effects of a bleaching spell gone slightly wrong.
Choosing not to comment upon that or the man's dress style, Peter nodded cautiously. "I work here, actually. Where do you need--"
"Oh, wonderful!" the man cried, grabbing Peter's hand eagerly and pumping it enthusiastically. "Absolutely marvelous! I can't tell you how much trouble I've gone through...."
"Yes," Peter said doubtfully, looking regretfully down to the coffee stains spreading through his own robes. The stranger didn't seem to notice. Unfortunately, with one hand holding the remainder of the coffee and the other seized in an all-too-firm grip, he was unable to use his wand to remove them. "Where was it you said you needed to go?"
"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the other said, having recovered his grandeur now that help was assured. "Immediately--it is, I assure you, extremely urgent."
"Right. If you'll follow me...." He began to lead the way down the hall. "Are you looking for a job with the ministry?" Peter asked, trying to make pleasant conversation.
"Oh, of course," the wizard said, as though it should have been obvious. "I will become an Auror."
"Have you been through the training program, then?"
The flamboyant stranger stared at him incredulously. "Training program? What need have I for a training program?"
"Well," Peter replied slowly, rather caught off guard by this reply, "you need to pass the ministry's training program first, you know."
The other man looked positively affronted, and waved a dismissive arm in the air. "I intend to pass no such program! I'll have you know that I have considerable experience in fighting the Dark Arts."
"Do you?"
"Indeed!" His gesture had changed now to expressive, and he began walking quickly again. "I am no stranger to the forces of evil." He waved a floridly-draped arm in front of Peter's nose. "I am--"
What exactly he was, Peter never found out. As they rounded a corner, the stranger's arm-waving distracted him enough to trip over his own orange robes, and he crashed heavily into Peter. The coffee grounds found themselves flung into the face of a startled Jonathan Prewett.
"Minister!" Peter gasped, completely mortified. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--"
"Pettigrew!" the Minister of Magic replied, equally surprised. "That's all right, of course, but--who on earth is this?"
He was staring down at Peter's new acquaintance with a dubious look. The man was sprawled over the floor, pink hat sliding off and bleached hair standing out in all directions. He sprang quickly to his feet, grinding the coffee grounds into the carpet.
"Minister!" he cried exultantly, pumping Prewett's arm as enthusiastically as he had earlier shaken Peter's. "Delighted to meet you, sir, I assure you--absolutely delighted!"
"The pleasure is all mine," Prewett said generously, although with a slightly disbelieving look directed at Peter. "Can I help you in some way?"
"Actually, Minister, I was hoping someone could. You see, I would like to become an Auror."
"I see," the Minister replied. "You are finished at Hogwarts, then?"
"No, sir," the man said, "but I received a diploma from Beauxbatons Academy."
"Aahh--you aren't French, are you?"
"No, sir, I was a transfer student after two years of Hogwarts. I do speak the language fluently, however." He embarked on a long monologue that sounded like an odd combination of mangled French and something suspiciously like Pig Latin.
"Hmm...have you spoken with Barty Crouch?"
"I have not."
"Then if you would come with me, I can see if you can get enrolled in his training program. I need to talk with Barty anyway."
The stranger coughed loudly. "Minister, I am afraid that you misunderstand me. I do not intend to enroll in a training program."
The Minister stared at him, a twinkle of amusement in his eye. "Well, you see, you do need to complete the program before being hired."
"Is that so? Perhaps if I spoke with this Mr. Crooch--"
"It's Crouch, actually. Oh, Barty, there you are! We were just speaking of you."
The thin man approaching was, indeed, Bartemius Crouch. He gave each of them a long glance, taking in the would-be Auror's mismatched clothing and the coffee grounds on Prewett's face.
"Is that so, Jonathan?"
"It is, in fact," the Minister said, the amusement plain in his voice now. "This young man says he wants to become in an Auror, and we were discussing your training program."
The gaudy young wizard sighed dramatically. "There has been a slight misunderstanding, Mr. Crooch. I have no need of a training program."
"Where did you graduate from?"
"Beauxbatons Academy."
"Did you take any training courses after that?"
"No, but I have considerable experience--"
Crouch drew himself up intimidatingly, obviously displeased. "If you wish to become an Auror, you will first take the Ministry's prognostic tests. If you pass those, you will enroll in and complete my program before being hired. That is the usual procedure, and we make no exceptions."
The stranger looked about to argue, but Prewett coughed gently to prevent any argument. "That is quite correct, actually. I'm sure you will find the program exceedingly helpful--what did you say your name was?"
The young man drew himself up again, flourishing his pink hat and giving them all his widest smile. "Why, Minister, I don't believe I did. Allow me to introduce myself--I am Gilderoy Lockhart."
AN: Any guesses as to how Avada Kedavra originated? And did anyone catch the "mistake" I dropped in? Hint: It's something that doesn't agree with the HP books. Yet. It'll be important later on.
