The Ministry of Magic

John woke with a start early in the morning, waking Sherlock with him. Mrs Weasley had hung some clean clothes on the back of the door for him, a nice comfortable jumper and jeans.

Sherlock wordlessly rubbed his back.

'Breakfast?' John whispered.

Sherlock shook his head. 'Not hungry.'

'Coming down with me?'

'Later.'

John leaned over to kiss Sherlock's cheek, and climbed out of bed, taking his time to get dressed. He quietly made his way to the kitchen, where he found Mr and Mrs Weasley, Sirius, Lupin and Tonks already sitting around the table.

'Morning,' Mrs Weasley said brightly.

'Morning,' John replied.

Mr Weasley smiled at him. 'Ready for today?' he asked.

John nodded. 'Yeah, I think it'll be all right. How are we getting there?'

'You and Harry are coming in with me,' said Mr Weasley. 'You're waiting in my office until it's time for your hearings. We'll get the tube!'

John chuckled at his enthusiasm. 'Yeah, it'll be fun.'

Just then, Harry came into the room looking pale and nervous, in his best t-shirt and jeans.

Mrs Weasley waved her wand over the stove as he closed the kitchen door. 'What would you like for breakfast? Porridge? Muffins? Bacon and eggs? Toast?'

'Er, just toast,' Harry mumbled.

'Porridge, if you don't mind,' said John, running a hand through his hair.

Tonks yawned widely. 'Been up all night,' she said at John's curious look.

'What were you saying about Scrimgeour?' Lupin asked Tonks.

'Oh… yeah… well, we need to be a bit more careful, he's been asking Kingsley and me funny questions…'

Mrs Weasley placed a bowl of porridge in front of John, and a couple of slices of toast down for Harry.

'...and I'll have to tell Dumbledore I can't do night duty tomorrow, I'm just t-t-too tired,' Tonks finished, giving another huge yawn.

'I'll cover for you,' said Mr Weasley. 'I'm okay, I've got a report to finish anyway.'

John glanced up from his bowl of porridge, but dropped his spoon with a clatter at the sudden pain in his ribs. 'Ow!' he yelped, pressing a hand to his chest.

'Are you all right?' Mrs Weasley said in alarm.

John pulled his hand away, half expecting to see blood, but there was nothing there. 'Yeah, I just-' He cut himself off, hissing through his teeth. 'It hurts- ow!' He doubled over, a burning sensation spreading across all if his ribs and up to his shoulders. His vision shifted and it was suddenly dark. He was in a long corridor, and there was a loud hissing noise, but he couldn't tell where it was coming from.

Mrs Weasley was wiping the blood from his nose with a cloth when he came around.

'Sorry,' he said thickly, rubbing his head.

'Don't be silly,' said Mrs Weasley. 'There you are, nice and clean.'

John pushed his bowl of porridge away, no longer hungry, and rested his eyes until he felt Sherlock sit beside him. 'I don't know where I was,' he mumbled.

'All right.' Sherlock was still in his pajamas.

'Not the best start to the day,' John said. 'I didn't want to be all dizzy for the hearing.'

'It's likely you would have been anyway,' said Sherlock. 'You've never been to the Ministry. I imagine something will crop up when you see it.'

'What am I supposed to do about that?' John said, alarmed.

'Don't worry, I'll help you focus for the hearing.'

'From here?'

'From anywhere,' Sherlock said confidently, looking John right in the eyes. 'Don't be afraid.'

'You'll only be speaking with Amelia Bones,' Mr Weasley said to him and Harry encouragingly. 'She's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

'Amelia Bones is okay!' Tonks said earnestly. 'She's fair, she'll hear you out.'

'The law's on your side,' Lupin said quietly. 'Even underage wizards are allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.'

'I think we'll go now,' said Mr Weasley, checking his watch. 'We're a bit early, but we'll be better off at the Ministry than hanging around here.'

'Okay,' Harry said, dropping his toast. He and John got to their feet.

'Good luck,' said Lupin.

'I'm sure it'll be fine,' Tonks smiled.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand and brushed it with a kiss, before he followed Harry and Mr Weasley up to the front door.

Mrs Black snorted in her sleep behind her curtain, making John jump.

Mr Weasley unbolted the front door, and they stepped out into the cold, grey dawn.

John took a deep breath of the clear air, the heaviness in the house finally lifting from him, and he smiled, slightly giddy.

Mr Weasley and Harry set off at a brisk pace, and John took a moment to catch up, stumbling slightly behind them.

He was free and light under the grey clouds, and was tempted to try his power, maybe look at Castiel, but a nudge in his mind from Sherlock reminded him to focus, and that he would need his strength when they arrived at the Ministry.

Mr Weasley excitedly watched the cars pass as they walked, unable to contain his enthusiasm, and beamed at the ticket machine when they arrived at the little underground station.

'Simply fabulous,' he whispered. 'Wonderfully ingenious.'

'They're out of order,' Harry said sullenly

'Yes, but even so…' Mr Weasley said fondly.

John bought them all tickets from a sleepy-looking guard, and they were soon on the tube, rattling towards central London. John sighed. The familiarity, and strangely normal feeling of sitting on the train soothed him. It had been a while since he'd gone on the underground, the last time had been just before third year, when he'd gone to King's Cross by himself to catch the Hogwarts Express.

They finally arrived at their stop, and hurried out, almost getting swept away by the tide of morning commuters carrying briefcases.

John automatically picked up the pace, leading Harry and Mr Weasley out of the station, and matching step with the commuters around him. He was vaguely amused that they were now the ones struggling to keep up, neither of them having spent a lot of time in London. Mr Weasley told him which way to go, but John led the way until they were in a less crowded part of the city, then let Mr Weasley take over.

They continued walking, the buildings getting smaller and less imposing the further out they went. They passed a library, some pubs, and an overflowing skip, then Mr Weasley stopped them in front of a red telephone box.

'Here we are!' said Mr Weasley, opening the door. 'Might be a bit of a squeeze. After you.'

John and Harry went inside, and Mr Weasley reached over their heads to dial a number. 'Let's see… six… two… four… and another four… and another two…'

The dial whirred smoothly and a cool, female voice sounded inside the box.

'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.'

John tugged on the neck of his jumper, feeling very closed in.

'Er… Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter and John Watson, who have both been asked to attend a disciplinary hearing…'

'Thank you,' said the voice. 'Visitors, please take a badge and attach it to the front of your robes.'

There was a click and a rattled, and a couple of square metal badges slid out into the coin return tray. John pinned his one to his jumper, where everyone could see that it said John Watson, Disciplinary Hearing.

'Visitors to the Ministry are expected to submit to a search and present their wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.'

The floor of the telephone box shuddered and slowly sunk into the ground. Darkness closed over their heads, and they could see nothing at all; they could only hear a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth. After about a minute, a chink of golden illuminated their feet, rising up until it hit them in the face.

'The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,' said the woman's voice.

The door to the telephone box sprang open and the three of them stepped out of it.

They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly-polished, dark wood floor. The peacock-blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing. John thought that Sherlock would know what they meant.

The walls on each side were panelled with shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces, and on the right-hand side, short queues were forming, waiting to depart. John couldn't help but be impressed, and he felt Sherlock's amusement.

It was going well so far, John thought. He felt the magic around him, buzzing at his fingertips, but it was nothing like the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place. Instead of pressing down on him, it flowed past him, like the currents in a river. If he concentrated, he thought he might be able to trace each of them to one person. Sherlock nudged him onwards again.

Half way down the corridor was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointed straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of their wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblin's hat and each of the house-elf's ears.

'Now, that's a bit much,' John snorted, bending to look at the smudged sign next to the fountain.

ALL PROCEEDS FROM THE FOUNTAIN OF MAGICAL BRETHREN WILL BE GIVEN TO ST MUNGO'S HOSPITAL FOR MAGICAL MALADIES AND INJURIES

'At least it's for a good cause,' John smiled.

He straightened up again, but when he blinked, everything fell silent. 'What-?' He looked around, everyone around him ignoring him with their heads down. Where the magical energy had been buzzing before, it was now more reminiscent of Grimmauld Place. The corridor was darker, gloomier. John bit his lip. He had slipped into a vision, that he knew, but of what and when? He looked back up at the fountain, but the golden statues were gone. In its place was now a gigantic statue of polished black stone. It depicted a witch and wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers toppling out of the fireplaces. Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words: MAGIC IS MIGHT. John swallowed, shaking his head. 'I don't like this,' he whispered. He leaned closer to the statue, and was horrified to find that what he first thought were just intricate thrones, were actually carvings of people. Hundreds of twisted, horrible, naked people, pressed together to hold up the weight of the handsomely robed witch and the wizard. As John stared at them, he realised they were meant to be Muggles.

'Muggles in their proper place,' he heard someone say, in just as much disgust as he felt. It sounded like Hermione, but when he turned around, it was someone he didn't recognise at all.

His stomach turned. 'I don't like this,' he said again. He couldn't feel Sherlock at all, but forced back his panic, squeezing the pressure point on his palm, until he had fallen to his knees with his eyes shut. He squeezed and squeezed, then finally the noise returned, and Mr Weasley's hand was on his shoulder.

'I'm all right,' he said shakily, as much to Sherlock as Mr Weasley, and got to his feet, still holding the pressure point. 'Let's just go.' He threw one more fearful look back at the statue, but it was gold again, so he forced himself to calm down.

'Over here,' Mr Weasley said gently, guiding them out of the steady stream of Ministry wizards and over to a desk situated below a sign saying Security. A wizard in peacock blue robes looked up as they approached and put down his Daily Prophet.

'I'm escorting some visitors,' said Mr Weasley, gesturing at John and Harry.

'Step over there,' said the wizard in a bored voice.

Harry and John moved closer to him, and he waved a long, thin golden rod over them, passing it up and down.

'Wand,' grunted the security wizard.

John passed his over first and the wizard dropped it on a strange brass instrument that was almost like a set of scales, only it had one dish instead of two. A narrow slip of parchment came out of a slot at the base of the instrument.

'Eleven inches, unicorn-hair core, been in use four years. Is that correct?'

'Er, yeah.'

'I keep this,' said the wizard, impaling the slip on a small brass spike. 'You get this back,' he added, shoving the wand back at John.

He then did the same with Harry's wand.

'Hang on…' the wizard said slowly, eyes darting from the silver badge on Harry's chest up to his scar.

'Thank you, Eric,' Mr Weasley said firmly, steering them both away from the desk, and into a smaller hall that had at least twenty lifts behind wrought golden grilles.

They joined the crowd around one of them, and Mr Weasley spotted someone he knew.

'What have you got there, Bob?' asked Mr Weasley, looking at the large cardboard box the wizard was holding.

'Not sure,' said the wizard. 'We thought it was a normal chicken until it started breathing fire. Looks like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me.'

One of the lifts arrived and the three of them were jammed inside, along with several other Ministry workers. John tried his hardest to keep his hands to himself. He could feel the others' lives pulling at him, calling out, inviting him to look. He started to feel dizzy. 'In and out,' John whispered, reminding himself to breathe.

I wish you'd come with me, John called to Sherlock, struggling to ground himself.

I wasn't allowed.

John could feel his regret and sympathy.

The lift ascended and John frowned. 'Are we going the right way?' he asked Mr Weasley.

'Of course we are,' he smiled.

'It feels like we should be going somewhere else…'

'Like where?' Mr Weasley asked curiously.

'I don't know…' John shuddered and pushed the feeling away.

They kept going up and up, until the voice announced, 'Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration services.'

'This is us,' said Mr Weasley. 'My office is on the other side of the floor.'

Harry and John followed him down a corridor and around the corner, and through a pair of heavy oak doors. They emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles, which was buzzing with talk and laughter.

John pressed a hand to his temple, a high-pitched whine coming from one corner, making his eyes water.

A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read: Auror Headquarters.

The continued through the cubicles and bumped into Kingsley Shacklebolt.

'Morning, Weasley,' Kingsley said carelessly. 'I've been wanting a word with you, have you got a second?'

'Yes, if it really is a second, I'm in rather a hurry.'

Kingsley led them along the row, and into the cubicle at the very end, where many pictures of Sirius stared down at them.

'Here,' said Kingsley, handing Mr Weasley a sheaf of parchment. 'I need as much information as possible on flying Muggle vehicles sighted in the last twelve months. We've received information that Black might still be using his old motorcycle.' Kingsley gave them an indulgent wink and added, in a whisper, 'Give him the magazine, he might find it interesting.' Then he said in normal tones, 'And don't take too long, Weasley, the delay on the firelegs report held our investigation up for a month.'

'If you had read my report you would know that the term is firearms. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for information on motorcycles; we're extremely busy at the moment.' Mr Weasley dropped his voice. 'If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs.'

Mr Weasley beckoned to Harry and John to follow him out of the cubicle, but John wavered a moment.

'Is - is your Patronus a lynx?' he blurted out to Kingsley.

They all gave John a confused look.

'Never mind. It's not relevant.' John rubbed his eyes and followed Mr Weasley out.

They went through another set of oak doors, through some winding corridors, right to a dead end with a tiny off, with Misuse of Muggle Artefacts on the door.

Two desks had been crammed inside, and there was hardly any room for them to move past the overflowing filing cabinets.

'You can sit there, I don't think Perkins is here yet,' said Mr Weasley, picking up a toaster from his desk that appeared to be hiccoughing.

Harry took the seat, and John perched on the edge of the desk, looking around at all the papers and files, and a purple paper plane circling over their head that said Memo on the side.

Mr Weasley grabbed it, unfolded it and read it aloud.

"'Third regurgitating public toilet reported in Bethnal Green, kindly investigate immediately." This is getting ridiculous…'

'A regurgitating toilet?' said Harry.

'Anti-Muggle pranksters,' said Mr Weasley, frowning. 'We had two last week, one in Wimbledon, one in Elephant and Castle. Muggles are pulling the flush and instead of everything disappearing - well, you can imagine. The poor things keep calling those - pumbles, I think they're called - you know, the ones who mend pipes and things.'

'Plumbers?'

'Exactly, yes, but of course they're flummoxed. I hope we can catch whoever's doing it.'

'Oh no, this is too trivial for Aurors, it'll be the ordinary Magical Law Enforcement Patrol - ah, this is Perkins.'

A stooped, timid-looking wizard with fluffy white hair entered the room, panting.

'Oh, Arthur!' he said desperately. 'Thank goodness, I didn't know what to do for the best, whether to wait for you here or not. I've just sent an owl to your home, but you've obviously missed it - an urgent message came ten minutes ago-'

'I know about the regurgitating toilet,' said Mr Weasley.

'No, no, it's not about the toilet, they've changed the time and the venue of the hearings today - the Potter boy's one starts at eight o'clock now and it's down in old Courtroom Ten-'

'Down in old - but they told me - Merlin's beard!' Mr Weasley checked his watch, let out a yelp, and leapt from his seat. 'Quick! We should have been their five minutes ago!'

They sprinted back through the Auror Office and back to the lifts, where one was waiting to take them down. Mr Weasley hurried them in and furiously punched the button for the ninth floor. 'Come on,' he said impatiently, as the lift rattled downwards. 'Those courtrooms haven't been used in years. I can't think why they're doing it down there - unless - but no -'

'The Atrium,' the voice said in the lift, and a sallow-skinned wiard got in.

'Morning, Arthur,' he said as the lift continued its descent. 'Don't often see you down here.'

'Urgent business, Bode,' said Mr Weasley.

'Ah, yes,' said Bode, surveying them. 'Of course.'

John caught his eye and suddenly couldn't breathe, as though something was squeezing his neck. He grabbed at it, rasping, desperate for air.

Mr Weasley grabbed him by the shoulders. 'Snap out of it, John,' he said, shaking him slightly.

The voice said 'Department of Mysteries', and whatever had hold of John let go, leaving spluttering and gasping, but there was no time to catch his breath.

Mr Weasley hurried them out of the lift and they ran through a dark corridor, then down a staircase until they came to a corridor that resembled Snape's dungeons at Hogwarts.

They passed several heavy doors, all with iron locks, and all with numbers on.

'Courtroom… Ten… yes, here we are,' Mr Weasley puffed, clutching a stitch in his chest. 'Go in then, get in there,' he said to Harry.

'Aren't you coming with-'

'Oh no, I'm not allowed. Good luck!' He and John both slumped against the wall, watching Harry turn the iron handle, and step inside the courtroom.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to ConstantineHolmes for the review! See you again next time!