Title: Into the Ministry
Author: Cyher
Summary: Harry & Co. have joined the Ministry of Magic, but it's not quite as glamourous as they thought it would be.
Disclaimer: Me? Own Harry Potter? You must be mad! Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers. They make all the money, too.
Chapter 3
"Come on all you scabs, line-up! Single-file! That's right single file means one behind the other! Move it!" Harry glanced from side to side as he stood in line at the Academy. People were everywhere. Cadets were talking. Instructors were screaming, it was one chaotic mess. Harry glanced back to the front gates where the Weasleys had bid him farewell. This time the space was occupied by a kid about Harry's age whose mother clearly wasn't happy about this new arrangement. Harry was turning back around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You!" a voice said as Harry was rather roughly turned around. He found himself staring at the neck of a fairly tall burly looking man with a crew cut. "What's your name Cadet?!"
"Oh, er Harry Potter," Harry said, taken a bit by surprise.
"Harry Potter, SIR!"
"Right, yeah Harry Potter, sir." The man gave him a look that clearly said that wasn't quite how the answer was supposed to go.
"Cadet Potter when you're done with registration report to the Company Barber for a haircut, immediately!"
'Company Barber? Oh no, not another hair cut' Harry thought, remembering back to the time Petunia had tried to cut his hair. "Sir, it always grows like this-"
"Potter I did not ask for your excuses I gave you an ORDER," the man yelled-mere inches from Harry's face. "Are we clear, Cadet?!"
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, his cheeks beginning to flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. The man turned on his heel and walked away. No doubt off to harass some other new cadet.
The line started moving again, and Harry soon reached the first of several booths. At the first one a portly stern looking witch took his name, made sure he had signed all of his paperwork, and proceeded to bombard him with questions. Name? Birthdate? Emergency Contacts? The list went on and on. With each answer, the woman tapped a small metal tag with her wand.
When she was done, she passed the tag to a slight, gray haired wizard at the next booth and motioned for Harry to follow it. This man proceeded to take his medical history, again tapping the tag after each answer. This continued through several booths. Harry was asked questions and weighed, poked and measured, until he finally reached the last booth.
At this booth a petite young witch with hazel eyes, fair skin, and brown hair asked for his name. "Harry Potter…ma'am," he said. The young woman gave a polite smile and ran her finger down a long list of names. "Ah, there you are," she said. "Mr. Potter, it appears that you'll be in the Wolf squadron," before continuing she tapped the metal tag with her twice with her wand and ran a thin chain through a hole in the top. Handing it to Harry she said, "This is your identification tag. You need to wear it around your neck at all times. Any questions?"
"Yeah, uhh…where do I go from here?" Harry asked as he slipped the chain around his neck, and tucked it all under his shirt. "And, somebody said I needed a hair cut…"
"Ah," the witch said with a smile. "I see you've met Lieutenant Strickland." With a wave of her wand she conjured a map for Harry. "The barber is located right here," she said while pointing to a small dot on the map. "You'll also need to stop by the tailor's shop to pick up your uniforms. After that go to the supply center and they'll have a bundle of items for you," she said, pointing out each place he would need to visit. "I suggest you hurry. In two hours you'll meet your squad at the west end of campus in front of Wolf Hall. You don't want to be late."
Harry smiled, thanked the lady, and ran towards the barber.
******
The barber shop was surprisingly empty. There were six chairs, but only one was occupied. "Just have a seat anywhere, and I'll be there a minute," the barber said over his shoulder. Harry took the closest chair and stared at his hands, trying to ignore the zzzzz-yer sound of clippers coming from the seat behind him. When he finally looked into the mirror he realized that his hair had indeed gotten a little out of control. Harry looked down again. So far the Academy wasn't quite what he had expected. Actually, Harry didn't know what he expected, ut he thought it would be a bit more organized, and not quite so loud. Harry couldn't stop thinking about the big oaf who had ordered this haircut. He didn't need to shout like that in front of all the other cadets, Harry thought.
"Oh dear me!" a voice said, snapping Harry out of his reverie. "I bet Lieutenant Stricklan wasn't happy about that…no sir." Harry looked around trying to find the source of the voice. The only other people in the shop were the barber and his other client. Harry soon realized that the speaker, was actually his own mirror. "Are, are you talking to me?" Harry whispered, not wanting to attract any more attention to himself.
"A bit slow, aren't you?" the mirror retorted. "Just look at you. Hair hanging down over your ears and in your eyes. And it's sticking up everywhere! I'm amazed you were even let in the front gate!"
Harry swiveled his chair around, and the mirror stopped talking. The barber had just finished with the other cadet, and the silence was refreshing. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the sight he was about to see. When he looked into the mirror across of the other cadet, he found himself staring into the cold blue eyes of Draco Malfoy.
Author: Cyher
Summary: Harry & Co. have joined the Ministry of Magic, but it's not quite as glamourous as they thought it would be.
Disclaimer: Me? Own Harry Potter? You must be mad! Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, her publishers, and Warner Brothers. They make all the money, too.
Chapter 3
"Come on all you scabs, line-up! Single-file! That's right single file means one behind the other! Move it!" Harry glanced from side to side as he stood in line at the Academy. People were everywhere. Cadets were talking. Instructors were screaming, it was one chaotic mess. Harry glanced back to the front gates where the Weasleys had bid him farewell. This time the space was occupied by a kid about Harry's age whose mother clearly wasn't happy about this new arrangement. Harry was turning back around when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You!" a voice said as Harry was rather roughly turned around. He found himself staring at the neck of a fairly tall burly looking man with a crew cut. "What's your name Cadet?!"
"Oh, er Harry Potter," Harry said, taken a bit by surprise.
"Harry Potter, SIR!"
"Right, yeah Harry Potter, sir." The man gave him a look that clearly said that wasn't quite how the answer was supposed to go.
"Cadet Potter when you're done with registration report to the Company Barber for a haircut, immediately!"
'Company Barber? Oh no, not another hair cut' Harry thought, remembering back to the time Petunia had tried to cut his hair. "Sir, it always grows like this-"
"Potter I did not ask for your excuses I gave you an ORDER," the man yelled-mere inches from Harry's face. "Are we clear, Cadet?!"
"Yes, Sir," Harry said, his cheeks beginning to flush with a mix of anger and embarrassment. The man turned on his heel and walked away. No doubt off to harass some other new cadet.
The line started moving again, and Harry soon reached the first of several booths. At the first one a portly stern looking witch took his name, made sure he had signed all of his paperwork, and proceeded to bombard him with questions. Name? Birthdate? Emergency Contacts? The list went on and on. With each answer, the woman tapped a small metal tag with her wand.
When she was done, she passed the tag to a slight, gray haired wizard at the next booth and motioned for Harry to follow it. This man proceeded to take his medical history, again tapping the tag after each answer. This continued through several booths. Harry was asked questions and weighed, poked and measured, until he finally reached the last booth.
At this booth a petite young witch with hazel eyes, fair skin, and brown hair asked for his name. "Harry Potter…ma'am," he said. The young woman gave a polite smile and ran her finger down a long list of names. "Ah, there you are," she said. "Mr. Potter, it appears that you'll be in the Wolf squadron," before continuing she tapped the metal tag with her twice with her wand and ran a thin chain through a hole in the top. Handing it to Harry she said, "This is your identification tag. You need to wear it around your neck at all times. Any questions?"
"Yeah, uhh…where do I go from here?" Harry asked as he slipped the chain around his neck, and tucked it all under his shirt. "And, somebody said I needed a hair cut…"
"Ah," the witch said with a smile. "I see you've met Lieutenant Strickland." With a wave of her wand she conjured a map for Harry. "The barber is located right here," she said while pointing to a small dot on the map. "You'll also need to stop by the tailor's shop to pick up your uniforms. After that go to the supply center and they'll have a bundle of items for you," she said, pointing out each place he would need to visit. "I suggest you hurry. In two hours you'll meet your squad at the west end of campus in front of Wolf Hall. You don't want to be late."
Harry smiled, thanked the lady, and ran towards the barber.
******
The barber shop was surprisingly empty. There were six chairs, but only one was occupied. "Just have a seat anywhere, and I'll be there a minute," the barber said over his shoulder. Harry took the closest chair and stared at his hands, trying to ignore the zzzzz-yer sound of clippers coming from the seat behind him. When he finally looked into the mirror he realized that his hair had indeed gotten a little out of control. Harry looked down again. So far the Academy wasn't quite what he had expected. Actually, Harry didn't know what he expected, ut he thought it would be a bit more organized, and not quite so loud. Harry couldn't stop thinking about the big oaf who had ordered this haircut. He didn't need to shout like that in front of all the other cadets, Harry thought.
"Oh dear me!" a voice said, snapping Harry out of his reverie. "I bet Lieutenant Stricklan wasn't happy about that…no sir." Harry looked around trying to find the source of the voice. The only other people in the shop were the barber and his other client. Harry soon realized that the speaker, was actually his own mirror. "Are, are you talking to me?" Harry whispered, not wanting to attract any more attention to himself.
"A bit slow, aren't you?" the mirror retorted. "Just look at you. Hair hanging down over your ears and in your eyes. And it's sticking up everywhere! I'm amazed you were even let in the front gate!"
Harry swiveled his chair around, and the mirror stopped talking. The barber had just finished with the other cadet, and the silence was refreshing. Nothing, however, could prepare him for the sight he was about to see. When he looked into the mirror across of the other cadet, he found himself staring into the cold blue eyes of Draco Malfoy.