Chapter 4: Licence to Apparate

Harry soon arrived at the Visitors' Entrance to the Ministry of Magic, where he was taking his test, on his Nimbus. He stepped inside the vandalised telephone box and dialled the number – a soft female voice answered, "Please state your name and business."

"Harry Potter. I'm here for an Apparition test."

"Please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

A badge shot out of the returned coins chute, it read Harry Potter, Apparition Test Candidate. Harry pinned in on to his robes. The female voice continued.

"You are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The telephone box began to sink slowly into the ground. After about a minute it reached to a stop and the voice said, "The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

The door sprang open and Harry stepped into the hall. The Fountain of Magical Brethren, which he, Dumbledore and Voldemort had wrecked in a duel two years earlier, had been repaired, although it was not quite as splendid as before. Harry walked up the hall to a desk under a sign that read 'Security'.

"I'm here for my Apparition test," said Harry to the wizard at the desk.

"Ah, Harry Potter. Pleased to meet you. Step over here." He passed a flexible golden up and down Harry's front and back. "Can I have your wand?" Harry handed to him. The wizard placed it on a brass instrument like a set of scales with one dish. It vibrated and a strip of parchment sped out of the base.

"Eleven inches, phoenix-feather core, been in use eight years?" read the wizard.

"Yes."

"Have it back. Can you just wait over there, please?" He gestured to one corner. Harry walked over and stood there nervously.

"Harry!" He spun around. It was Bill Weasley, Ron's brother, the new Minister for Magic and the youngest for over a century. He held left his previous job at Gringotts Bank two years ago, on Dumbledore's advice, and had risen quickly through the ranks, being elected the month before.

"Hi," said Harry. "I'm here for my Apparition test."

Bill nodded. "Yes, yes, of course. Say hello to Ron for me. Sorry, but I've got to go. I've got a hard job." He smiled, and walked off. A man in his forties passed him, saying "Morning, Minister", then came up to Harry. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to oversee your Apparition test. First you have to prove you know the theory well enough, then we see if you can Apparate. Follow me."

He walked into the lift at the end of the Atrium, Harry close behind. With a clattering noise, they descended two floors to Level Six. "We're going to the Apparition Test Centre," said the man. "This way." He led Harry down a corridor and through a pair of heavy oak doors into a small room with desks and a blackboard like a classroom.

"Sit down," said the wizard. "Now, I want you to answer the questions. You shouldn't find them difficult. Here's your parchment and your quill. You have half an hour – begin."

The wizard was right – the questions weren't hard. Harry completed them with five minutes to spare. "Finished already?" asked the wizard. "OK, give me your answers and come over here. Now, I want you to Apparate to the Museum of Quidditch. You know where I mean? It's near Buckingham Palace. Ready? Go!"

Museum of Quidditch, Museum of Quidditch, thought Harry, trying to picture it in his mind's eye. It was one of the destinations Andy Anzac had like him to go to. Museum of Quidditch, Museum of Quid … CRACK! Harry felt his feet leave the ground. For a millisecond he glimpsed a blur of colour then … bump! He landed softly on his feet outside the handsome marble building, feeling very faintly sick.

"Well done!" praised the examiner, who was standing beside him. "Now, if you'd just like to come back to the Ministry, where our AutoMark quill should have finished checking your answers, we can see if you've passed."

"I did it!" shouted Harry, stepping back into the S.P.E.W. Shop. "I passed!"

"Good one!" praised Ron.

"Well done, Harry," congratulated Hermione.

"Thanks," grinned Harry, and sat down over a poster of an elf doing the washing-up. The moving photo of the elf looked at him in an annoyed manner, and continued with its work. "I'm tired though. Mind if I stop here for the night? I can't be bothered to go back to Saddle Cottage."

"Of course you can stay," said Hermione. "You'll have to sleep in the living room, I'm afraid – we don't have a spare bedroom."

Over the next few days, Harry saw several of his old friends around Diagon Alley. While he was looking for some of the hard-to-find items on his list he heard a yell from behind him.

"Potter!"

He turned to see Draco Malfoy behind him. He was filled automatically with hatred, which he tried to fight back as he remembered that his archenemy was attempting to turn over a new leaf.

Malfoy had been present at the final battle with Voldemort, but realised how terrible really fighting actually was when his father ordered him to kill Ron Weasley. He chickened out, and had spent most of the last few weeks of term in hospital after Lucius had cursed him.

The striking thing about Malfoy was how shabby he was – he had paid damages to the families of those his father had killed, thinking it the best way to make up.

"Er – have you got a job yet?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"Of course, Potter," Malfoy drawled, and Harry fought back a desire to punch him. "I'm working at the apothecary; I've been promoted twice already. And you? I suppose you're just –" He broke off, battling the urge to insult Harry.

"I'm becoming an Auror," said Harry shortly.

"Oh," replied Malfoy. "Well, goodbye."

"Bye," said Harry.

"Oh, and Potter –" said Malfoy, after walking a few steps up the road. "Get a new look. Round glasses aren't exactly the height of fashion."

The next day, Harry bumped into Neville Longbottom. "Hi, Harry," he said. "I've got a job now, have you?"

Harry nodded. "I'm becoming an Auror, Neville!"

"Wow!" Neville breathed. "That's great! Did you get an 'O' in DADA? I did, just, and one in Herbology: I'm going to become a fulltime herbologist. And I've got a place with the reserves on the local Quidditch side: the Barton Buzzards. Heard of them?"

Harry shook his head. "Sorry. Maybe I'll join, when I've finished the Auror course."

Neville smiled widely. "You can't exactly be an Auror and a professional player, can you? Not that you're not good enough."

It was a very eventful time of Harry's life.