A/n: Ok, I got the hint from the reviews that you guys were more than a tad peeved with me for taking so long to update. I'd give you my excuse, but if you're like me, you probably wouldn't care. You'd say "It's inexcusable" and I couldn't fault you for it. So here's another chapter. Bit short, more than a bit uneventful, but I have a week off before classes start again and I figured that if I gave you a chapter now, maybe you won't be screaming for my head if, God forbid, it takes a while to come up with a new one. So here we go. First day of training, a few mild innuendoes, and Harry has a conversation with our favorite Mr. Snape. And please read the song lyrics at the end of the chapter, because it'll help you know what Harry's been thinking about.
A week later, Harry was stretched out on a comfy bit of grass on Hogwarts ground, the rest of the new crop of Aurors peppering the green and chatting nervously. It was the first morning of training, the class was about to begin in a few minutes, and most of these people had only arrived the day before. Harry gingerly pushed himself up with his arms behind his back, briefly tossed a squinted glance at the sky, and then let his eyes roam over the new faces, trying to remember everyone's name and to discern their character by the way they held themselves. After a few pathetic attempts at any deep inquiry, he settled on the names. Cedric Diggory, whom Hermione had said was a Hufflepuff a couple of years ahead of her in school. Aidan Troy, who Ron was practically drooling about as he explained the man's brief career in professional Quidditch before the League had suspended games following a massive slaughter at a World Cup two years ago. Two women, Annelise and Emma. And four miscellaneous guys named Adonais, Trader, Jonah and Alec. If pressed about it, Harry could guess that Jonah was the short one and that Adonais seemed to have a nasty cough, but really, all their faces blended into one background: they were all, the women included, former employees of the Ministry of Magic that had probably been tapped by Dumbledore as the few individuals brave enough and moral enough to be there.
"You still here, Harry?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, sorry, I was just trying to remember everyone's name," Harry answered.
"I could tell you, but you should have to work for it," Hermione grinned.
In the past week, the three of them had become fast friends. Ron had pulled Hermione into an unused classroom one day and, just when Harry was about to give up on waiting for her, she came out, flustered but smiling.
"Quick shag for old times' sake?" Harry leered, holding in his laughter as Ron crept out of the room, face aflame after catching what Harry had said.
"Don't be crude, we just talked about it," Hermione answered. "And Ron should be insulted if you think he'd finish up the job in under five minutes," she grinned.
"Well, you make do with time allotted," Harry answered. The two of them never told him what was said in those five minutes that had changed everything between them, but then he supposed it was private.
"Harry?" Ron's prodding him in the ribs propelled Harry back into the present.
"What?"
"I was asking if you had any idea who was going to be training us, since you seem to be so chummy with the staff," Ron explained, not with a little chagrin. A few days ago, Ron had finally made Harry snap by calling Snape a "greasy little twat that was probably itching to crawl back to his Dark Lord, even if everyone thinks he's a big hero". Harry had been trying to downplay his relationship with the professors at Hogwarts, especially Snape, because he didn't want to feel alienated from Ron and Hermione. The truth was that the three of them were the youngest of the new Aurors and the shared sense of being both unprepared and underestimated was something that had helped make them as close of friends as they could be after a week. Harry didn't want to appear to have a special link with the staff, especially when he was certain that his mere name was enough of a strain on normality. But when Ron said that about Snape, Harry had just about lost it, deriding Ron for his immaturity, for his prejudice and lack of gratitude, for his inability to see that Snape had risked a lot for the cause that Ron was willing to die for and that the Potions master was, next to Dumbledore, probably the most important member of the force against Voldemort. Of course, Ron apologized, spluttering something, probably in shock over someone actually defending Snape, and Harry had felt terrible about it (most likely, he thought to himself, because he sounded a bit too sanctimonious for his liking). Both of them had dropped the issue within minutes, but occasionally Ron would make harmlessly barbed comments about Harry's Great Unrequited Love for Snape, gentle teasing that Harry would probably settle with a sharp pummeling of Ron's arm or any available appendage if it kept up much longer.
"No idea," Harry muttered, twisting his head back towards the castle in an attempt to see if anyone was coming yet. A note had been posted in the Graduate Wing that the trainees were to assemble in back of the greenhouses by eleven o'clock Monday morning. A murmur had gone through the common room and it was agreed that no one knew who was going to be teaching them and what, exactly, there was to learn.
The answer was fast coming, as Albus Dumbledore himself suddenly appeared before the group, smiling as the trainees quickly pulled themselves into respectable sitting positions, Annelise and Emma fussing with their hair for some reason that Harry preferred not to think about. These women, probably in their late thirties, were a bit old for Harry's tastes, but he hoped to Heaven they were too young for Dumbledore's.
"I see everyone has made it safely to Hogwarts. Welcome," Dumbledore greeted, nodding at the people who had only just arrived at the school. "I trust that you all well make yourselves acquainted in your free time. Please see that you do. It is imperative that you know each other, that you trust each other, and it would be an added pleasure if you liked each other as well. I myself know, trust, and like each one of you. That is why you have been chosen for this training program. Under normal circumstances, Aurors are appointed and trained by the Ministry. But I am afraid that the Ministry's ability to meet this responsibility has been compromised by corruption amongst the ranks. If any of you has an overwhelming loyalty to the Ministry and the current administration, I'd ask you to leave now." No one moved an inch.
"Very well!" Dumbledore smiled, lowering himself onto the grass, his need to be intimidating over. "Some of you are probably wondering what on earth you've done to deserve such an…opportunity. It must be obvious to some of you that there is no way that I know each of your characters so well as to warrant blind faith in you. If any of you think your success here depends on an affirmation of my opinions of you, feel free to pull me aside for a private meeting, or I can sing your praises in public if you prefer," Dumbledore added, his blue eyes sparkling and quite infectious as everyone nervously laughed. "But on a more serious note, our fight against Voldemort has nearly been crippled at times by betrayal, and the final stage of this training period involves a painless, but invasive, test to prove your loyalty to the cause. If any of you should fail any of the tasks put before you, including that final test, your memories will be wiped. If any of you have issues with this, you may leave now." No one moved an inch, though Harry could see a few eyes darting about nervously.
"Good! Good! Now, I'll give you a brief overview of the program and we can adjourn until after lunch."
The program which Dumbledore proceeded to describe seemed simple enough. The trainees were to be taught by a series of lecturers, including representatives of the Ministry and the Hogwarts staff, as well as by Dumbledore himself. The program was divided into three stages, though the time given to each stage was subject to change if the war demanded immediacy or if, by some unlikely miracle, the whole bloody thing ended, in which case the entire concept of the program would be revised. The first stage was to last roughly three months and was basically a period composed entirely of lecture and practice on school grounds. The second stage was to last the month of December and was really a working vacation: all of the trainees would be given flats in Muggle cities so they could learn how to move about the non-magical community with ease (a bit redundant for Harry and some of the others, but no one was complaining). The third stage was another three months, this time an apprenticeship tailored to the individual's strengths. The fourth stage was the aforementioned confirmation of loyalty, and then it was out into the real world. Harry found it decidedly depressing that he was the only one shocked to hear that a group of elite Aurors would still be needed seven months from now. His time with Snape in the dungeon obviously hadn't tarnished his optimism, and he's assumed that, with the Elixir of Life out of the picture, the war with Voldemort would come to a head in a month or two and that would be the end of it.
Harry, Ron and Hermione followed the rest of the class back to the castle at a slow pace, a million thoughts running through their heads. Well, a million and one in Ron's case, since he was the only one that was anxious to eat lunch. "I can't believe we have to wait seven months before we actually do anything!" Ron finally blurted out, tired of wondering about what on earth Dumbledore could have possibly seen in him that made it right for him to be there.
"Well, it's better than them sending us off to get killed before we're ready," Hermione answered. "Not that I'll ever be ready to get killed…you know what I mean." Harry figured Hermione must have been very preoccupied with the morning's orientation if she was reduced to talking rubbish.
"I'm trying not to think about it," Harry answered. "It's better to focus on December. A whole month off, put up in a cushy flat in London. If I keep that in mind, hopefully I won't go completely mental being stuck here for three months with just you lot and a bunch of middle-aged professors."
"Don't worry, Harry. We can always go to Hogsmeade if you're desperate," Ron grinned.
"Desperate for what?" Hermione asked, fully aware of the warning glare Harry was shooting in Ron's direction.
"Our ickle Harry here is a bit lonesome for company of the female persuasion," Ron answered.
"Oh, you're feeling a bit randy, are you?" Hermione grinned. "Why would you need to go to Hogsmeade to fix that? And more importantly, why would you, Ron? Crystal balls turning a bit blue?"
"I don't get it, what's the gag?" Harry asked, disconcerted by the evil smirk plastered on Hermione's face as Ron sputtered for words.
"Ronald's fiancée is a quack," Hermione clarified, helping Ron regain his verbal skills.
"Lavender is not a quack! Fortune-telling is a completely viable profession, and what do you know about it?" Ron answered, glaring at Harry, who was nearly doubled over for laughing.
"Absolutely nothing," Harry answered, regaining his breath, "beyond the fact that I was practically mauled by Trelawney my second week here, and if your girlfriend's response to bad news is to predict a highly painful death by castration, I can feel your pain." Very soon all three of them were laughing as they made their way to the Great Hall to eat, deciding that they may as well be sociable, even if they'd rather eat with the House Elves.
@@@
It was a dark and stormy night (and, as hackneyed as that sounds, it was summer in England) about two weeks later, and Harry found himself drinking a rather nice glass of malt whiskey in Severus Snape's rooms.
"I should feel honored, you choosing to drink all of my good liquor instead of crawling off to that hut with your friends," Snape said, hands and eyes roving over the titles on his book shelf, looking for a tome about Bri Leith and its fairy mound that Harry had been interested in reading.
"Yes, you should," Harry answered, trading the book Snape handed him with the first draft of the paper Harry had been writing about concerning transfiguration and what Harry had learned through parseltongue.
"You do understand that you couldn't publish this now, even if you wanted to? No one can know about your abilities until the war is over," Snape commented.
"I don't mind. It's a mute point anyway. It's not good enough to be published," Harry answered. He was proud of himself that he wasn't just fishing for compliments. It really was that awful.
"That's the spirit," Snape smiled (here, Ron would have a brain aneurysm and Hermione would run for Madame Pomfrey, but Harry was used to it by now, even if it was obvious that Snape's cheek muscles weren't exactly thrilled by the activity). "So why aren't you with Lupin and McFayden?"
"Remus isn't feeling very well. Does it always last days past the moon?"
"Usually only a few, but I know he had a cold before the transformation, so that does not help matters. I'm still surprised he told you, so soon." Surprised was an understatement. When Harry had come to Snape one afternoon two months ago and had asked to be involved in the brewing of Lupin's Wolfsbane potion, Snape had nearly tripped over his robes in his shock. As far as he knew, being a werewolf wasn't something Remus Lupin was particularly proud of.
"I think that, because we've gotten to be friends, he didn't want me hearing it from someone else. Like Hermione," Harry answered.
"Miss Granger knows?" Snape asked.
"He says she figured it out his first year teaching here. But she hasn't mentioned it to anyone, including me, as far as I know. She's good at keeping secrets."
"I meant to thank you for brewing the potion this month. I normally don't mind doing it, even if I act like it's the height of inconvenience, but I have a lot of plans for research this summer. Besides, I suppose Lupin appreciated it more, coming from you."
"I actually didn't tell him that I made it," Harry mumbled through his shot glass.
"Fashionably modest?" Snape asked, his eyebrow threatening to attack his hairline.
"No, I wasn't quite certain that it would work. I figured that if it poisoned him, you could bear the criticism," Harry smirked.
"Well, he's alive so you can gloat about it now, give him a new reason to sing your praises. And why would you think it would fail?"
"That's right, I forgot. Couldn't possibly fail with you supervising."
"Quite right," answered Snape, refreshing Harry's drink. "How is the training coming?"
"Somewhere between bloody awful and very shitty thank you," Harry answered, only to be met by a severe roll of the eyes from Snape's chair. "Fine, sometimes it's very interesting and not at all a complete waste of time. When it's Dumbledore or someone from Hogwarts, that's all well and good. But the people from the Ministry…not exactly an inspiring example of human intelligence, if you know what I mean."
"I do, but don't let that stop you from taking the piss."
"We had Arnie Peasegood from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad on Wednesday. His big advice was not to trust anyone wearing black and/or a mask." Snape was caught halfway between a scowl and a laugh, looking down at his own ensemble. "I'm serious though. He talked for half an hour about what the best kind of food to eat on a surveillance is! And don't get me started on what Angus Conners of the Department of Magical Catastrophes had to say."
"What is it that you were expecting to learn?" Snape asked.
"I don't know, but I'm starting to think that there really isn't much anyone can teach us. We all have a solid background in spells, charms. We probably need to be taught some good defensive charms and some immobilizing defense charms, hexes that are highly painful but not lethal. We need to learn wartime strategy, basic surveillance techniques, interrogation methods, crash course in Death Eater psychology. Well, human psychology at any rate, because thinking of them as something other than human will not help anybody. We need to know Voldemort's history like the back of our hand. Don't we?" Harry was aware that it was a lame finish to such a diatribe, but he was honest enough, at least with Snape, to admit that he really didn't know just how ignorant he was. He hoped it wasn't too hopeless.
"It sounds like you have it all figured out," Snape answered after a long silence. "Of course, you've only been at it for a few weeks. Don't you think that Dumbledore has thought of all this?"
"I suppose so, but the problem is that the other students haven't. I don't even know why I have," Harry answered.
"I don't know why either. Perhaps its because you were brought up distanced from all of this. Maybe you'd think that that would put you at a disadvantage, but most of us have tried to protect children and people not directly involved in the war efforts from the war mentality. I've never agreed with that. It makes for an ill-prepared and dangerously naïve generation. But others wanted to preserve some sense of…innocence I suppose. They didn't want people like your friends Weasley and Granger to have to think about what it took to bring down something like Voldemort. But trust me, it's coming. The headmaster has to have some involvement with the Ministry in this program, or he's risking the potential authority you new Aurors will have. If he doesn't comply and have some input from the Ministry, the wizarding government would refuse to recognize you as officers of the law and that would undermine the influence you'd have over the war. You'd just be a bunch of nameless underpaid spies. So suffer people like Peasegood. It's good to know not to drink gallons of tea while on a manhunt. You'll get to the important things soon enough."
"But Severus, do you really think we can be so frivolous with our time? Do you think Voldemort will wait seven months for me to become fully trained before he comes after me?"
"I really don't know," Snape answered, his face blank, the sign that he was fighting defeat. "Where are you going?" he asked, noticing that Harry had stood and was making his way to the door.
"To do something entertaining and immature," Harry grinned.
In the morning, it didn't matter that the students of Hogwarts had already gone home for holiday. It didn't matter that only a handful of staff members and about a dozen of Auror trainees were there to appreciate it. It didn't even matter that Harry would be stuck cleaning it up. What did matter was that, if only for a few moments, Harry, Ron and Hermione could look up at the Great Hall's ceiling, watch the sheep they had conjured graze on the sky, and laugh. Laugh for the memory of sneaking around the castle at midnight, trying to avoid Peeves and the peevish Mr. Filch. Laugh for the sight of one of the sheep relieving itself just above Trelawney's big bug head. Laugh for the sound of Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Wynn, Minerva, and even Snape chuckling through Trelawney's shrieking. Laugh for the feeling that they were children again, for a spot in time. Children who were preparing themselves for war, but children hopeful enough not to mourn for their youth.
The End…of that chapter. Here's the song that the chapter title came from. This song's been going through my head for a week now, and maybe I'll write some angst-ridden fic independent of this thing, but here the song is relevant because Harry does NOT want to become this person. So there.
"Mr. Chainsaw" by Alkaline Trio
When was it that you lost your youth or traded
It for something more for them to use so jaded
Why is it that you never said
I love you more than just a friend
I pray this gridlock never ends
And when we get there just depends
I found out recently that you are leaving
For good I hope I softly tell my ceiling
It's better now to be alive
Sleeping is my 9 to 5
I'm having nightmares all the time
Of running out of words that rhyme
Everything that you could never say
Would never matter anyway
I took a hammer and two nails to my eardrums long ago
Before that steak knife took my eyes
I looked up to the sky
For the last thing I would ever see
For the last time I'd cry
When was it that you sold your life or wasted
Every bite of that small slice you never tasted
I guess I should be one to talk
There's nights that I can't even walk
There's days I couldn't give a fuck
And in between is where I'm stuck
From blocks away I heard somebody screaming
That small child inside of you that you left bleeding
You stabbed him up not once but twice
Cubicles will now suffice
Some say it's the roll of the dice
I think they're wrong I know I'm right
Every breath that I could barely breathe
Could barely make it past my teeth
I took a blowtorch to both of my lungs a long long time ago
Every step that i could take
Every one more difficult to make
Mr. Chainsaw came and took my legs a long, long time ago
In case you're wondering
I'm singing about growing up about giving in
In case you're wondering we're singing about growing up
About giving up and giving in