Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own any of the characters. You can sue me if you want, but I'm currently in debt to my little sister 20$, so it would be pretty pointless.

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Harry Potter, Order of Merlin First Class, The Boy Who Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, Destroyer of the Major Death Eater Society, and Third Auror of the Order of the Phoenix, was bored. He was sitting in the Ministry of Magic, attempting for the fifth time this week to get an assignment. Over the last four years, the four years since Harry had left Hogwarts, the amount of work for Aurors had shrunk into so little that they had given him a vacation. Voldemort had been killed by Harry on his 19th birthday, Lucius Malfoy had been captured and killed two years before, the majority of the Death Eaters were currently in Azkaban. This left Harry with a vacation.

The problem was he didn't want a vacation. He wanted to be chasing down Lestrange. Yes, that was what he wanted, he pondered. To chase down the woman who had murdered Sirius, the woman who had murdered Peter, the same woman who had murdered Lupin. Damn, wasn't it twisted, that she had murdered three of The Marauders. His father's three best friends, who in the end, had all shown Gryffindor loyalty and courage; even Wormtail had, in that final battle.

Remus toppled to the ground shot down by a stunning spell. Lestrange smirked, pearly teeth gleaming through the haze of magic that rolled endlessly over Godric's Hollow. She laughed, a high, merciless laugh, nearly as cold and cruel as her master's. Stepping forward, her ebony robes billowing in the warm July wind, she directed her wand directly at Lupin's heart.

"Crucio."

The pain was overwhelming. Its force was amazing; God she must have hated him to put so much force into the curse. Why not kill him off, please kill him off. Anything was better than this torture. Anything… He was struggling, struggling to keep from echoing the screams of other around him. He would be brave, he would not cry out. He was a Gryffindor. He…would not…cry out…Moony's lips parted to scream, the pain was too awful.

There was a bellow from above; he knew that voice, didn't he…? "Finite Incantatem!" The pain halted, and Remus drew himself up, to look into the worried gaze of… Peter Pettigrew.

Another cry, a burst of light, and Peter fell, fell not only physically but emotionally. He tumbled headlong in to a pit of golden glow, he had redeemed himself. He was a true Gryffindor. He was a true Marauder. And thus were Peter Pettigrew's final thoughts.

Harry jerked upright, having failed to notice that his head had fallen into his hands. This was why he didn't want time off; every time he took the shortest break he relived the deaths of those most loyal to him. Running a hand anxiously through his mess of raven locks, he frowned at the man strolling amiably down the hallway, like it was a good day. Bastard.

Thus was Harry's surprise when the man stopped before him, smiling and jubilant. "Mr. Potter, sir?" He asked. Why had he ever bothered to ask, Harry wondered. Who else had a lightning bolt scar on their forehead? Seriously, if these Ministry officials got any stupider they'd all end up in St. Mungo's.

Harry stood, nodding to the man, plastering a small smile over his own face. He knew it was convincing, for all it was forced. Anyone not incredibly close to he would ever see through the mask he had built up after that fateful summer. Besides, it was useful when he had to go undercover and didn't want people knowing what he was really thinking. "Yes, that's me; do you need me for something?" He tried to force the hope out of his voice, deflated as his expectations were, and was quite surprised when the man gave a blooming nod. Harry dropped all pretense of calm and eagerly grabbed the man's shoulder. Which was quite difficult, as he had to be seven feet, while Harry had never gone an inch over 5'11". "Where? What? When?"

The secretary's bright smile of joy seemed to reflect his attitude to being touched by the famous Harry Potter. "Right this way, Mr. Potter sir, right this way." Harry was faintly amused at the man's half-skipping step, but followed along as he led him through the maze of corridors in the new Ministry. The old one had been destroyed by Voldemort, to be replaced by an even more amazing work or architecture and interior design. They were currently strolling down a hall made completely of polished white marble, with gold inlays along the walls. This being hallway dedicated to the prevention of the Dark Arts, the pictures formed by golden spirals were those of historical scenes in which dark wizards had been defeated. The final one of the hallway always made Harry wince, as it depicted him defeating Voldemort. Watching the golden display of the battle over and over again only brought back the terrible memories. So, tearing his eyes away from the wall, Harry instead looked up, through the glass ceiling. The entire building has a glass ceiling, reinforced with so many charms and hexes that it was impossible to penetrate. (Glass was a very good conductor for chains of spells.) However, it was not the glass but the view that was amazing. Currently, an enormous white cloud was floating only inches above the roof. Harry was still unsure of whether he liked the Ministry better underground or suspended several hundred feet in the air.

So enraptured was he in studying the ceiling, that he ran right into his guide. Murmuring an apology, he leapt hastily back, though judging from the look on the man's face his dinner discussion that night would be something akin to, "And then the famous Harry Potter, you know, Conqueror of Voldemort and all that? Well, he ran into me. Isn't that amazing, Harry Potter running into me!"

Still grinning wildly, the man opened the door politely, looking unsure of whether or not he should bow or ask for an autograph. Harry made the decision for him. "Thank you," he said, before entering the room and quickly shutting the door.

"Not fond of your fans, Harry?" Mad-Eye Moody asked, grinning slyly.

Harry scowled, tucking his hands into the pockets of his midnight robes. "He said you needed me for something."

Made-Eye smirked, nodding towards the seat before him. "I tried to give you a vacation. For heaven's sake boy, any other Auror would be more than delighted to take it. Instead I have you hammering down my door for a new assignment. What kind of attitude is that?"

Potter slipped into the chair indicated, returning the smirk. "Why, the same one you have, sir."

Moody laughed a harsh, guttural laugh that was somehow grating and friendly at the same time. "Very well, Mr. Potter, you've got me there." Harry only smiled in reply, raising curious eyebrows, wanting to know exactly what this next task would be. Moody beckoned someone from the shadows of the room, and Harry's eyes widened.

He leapt hastily from the chair, enveloping his best friend in a tight hug. "Merlin, Hermione, I haven't seen you in ages." She returned his hug warmly, and Harry was shocked to find that once they drew back she had silvery tears coursing down her cheeks. His grin was immediately replaced by a concerned frown, and he reached a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong, 'Mione?"

She shook her head, slipping out of his arm to sit in the second chair facing Moody's desk. "It's nothing, Harry. I'm just so glad to see you again. It brings back… memories."

He winced, needles viciously stabbing his heart. "Yeah… Yeah, I know. But we have to make the best of it." She nodded, slipping a tissue from her small black purse to wipe away the tears. Harry lowered himself back into his own chair, casting a curious glance at them both. "So… What exactly is this about?"

Moody spoke, giving Hermione a reassuring smile before turning to Harry. "Miss Granger and I have discussing current places and people that still defense. We were hoping you would…"

He was cut off by Harry's abrupt comment. "I don't want to baby-sit, Mad-Eye, I want to hunt for Lestrange." He felt, rather than saw, Hermione flinch.

Moody's eye roved towards the ceiling, as if asking for help from higher forces, while his regular eye remained trained on Harry. "Let me finish, boy. Like I said, we were hoping you'd undertake a position as a sort of bodyguard. We have a young woman in need of protection," he silenced Harry's open mouth with a quick spell. "Don't speak. Don't even try. Now, as I was saying, we need you to act as a sort of bodyguard for her, inconspicuously of course. This will not be a Hogwarts picnic, Harry. It's very likely that Lestrange's followers will attack her. It's also likely that she will not appreciate our thrusting an Auror on her in the least. That's why we can't have some older chap trailing her; he'd have no reason to. We would use Mr. Longbottom, but I don't think he could handle this assignment himself. Ms. Lovegood was also a possibility, but she has informed that she is already friends with the woman, and that she knows that Ms. Lovegood has no intention of giving up on being an Auror. You will be pretending that you've given up this life, because you're tired of being only noted to your talents in the Dark Arts field or something equally reasonable, and that you've decided to make a new beginning. Don't glare at me, Harry; I'm sure the profession I'm having you undertake will be one you enjoy. You see, Potter, Britain's quidditch team recently lost its seeker."

"Alright, I understand all that; and I don't mind playing seeker for a bit again. But who is this girl." Harry spoke, his smile rather coy.

Moody's lips twitched, clearly hiding a smile. "I forgot you could do wandless magic, foolish of me."

"Yes, it was." Harry commented dryly, before returning to the subject. "The girl, Mad-Eye."

"Ginny Weasley."

Harry gripped the desk suddenly, knuckles white as his face grew several shades paler. "Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, I can't do that, Moody."

"You have to, Harry." That was Hermione. Harry turned towards her, looking pleadingly at the determined expression on her face. He shook his head, unable to form the words. Hermione took no notice, her soft voice etched with barely controlled pain. "Mr. Weasley's Minister now and that sets his children up as prime targets. Charlie can look out for himself, Percy almost never leaves the ministry, Fred and George have so many 'funny' booby traps on they're home that they'll be just fine, but Ginny's a whole different story. She's only been out of Hogwarts for three years, Neville only took three minutes to break into her apartment, and she's so empathetic that if Bellatrix walked up to her and confessed to wanting to change, Ginny would believe her."

"Hermione I can't do that. You don't understand. I swore off ever glimpsing her again after seventh year. You want me to trail her, and watch her day and night? I can't do that."

"Potter." Harry turned towards his superior, still an ashy grey. "I don't think you understand exactly what we want, Potter. We don't need to only see her, we need to speak with her, befriend her; the whole deal."

"That won't work, Moody."

"If it doesn't, then you're off Lestrange." Harry went from ashy to ghost white, though Mad-Eye could tell the threat was one he would remember. Hermione made a small, inquiring noise, and his head gave the tiniest of shakes. He was not going to tell Potter everything, some information could be held back until the boy could handle it.

"Fine. I'll do it." Harry said soft resolve in his voice.

"Good, you start today. Get out and find her, she's living in Erised Alley."

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Notes: Um, well, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. I don't know that I really like it, but it's okay for the first real chapter of my first Harry Potter fanfic. Opinions, everyone? Questions? Ask or comment by clicking the little "Go" button in the bottom of your screen.