The Aurors' Meeting

Harry Potter checked his battered, slightly grimy watch (he'd wash it with a wipe once he got home) once he had stepped into the gilded lift. There were three or four other people there: two arguing workers from Magical Maintenance and a young woman wearing the dark robes of an Unspeakable. The lift operator glanced at the maintenance workers, who were on the verge of yelling at each other, and sighed wearily. He pulled a lever and the Atrium soon disappeared from view.

The stars that were used as arrows were indicating that it was currently two-thirty, which meant that he had approximately half an hour to prepare himself for the meeting. This meeting wasn't an ordinary routine one; the Minister for Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was going to attend. Harry hoped that his second-in-command, Calliope Thames, would be there; he needed to exchange a word or two with her and Ron.

He only began staring at the young woman in boredom; he found it quite odd that she would get into a lift going down when she could just take one going up, as the Department of Mysteries was, after all, on the floor over the Atrium. When the recorded voice of the witch announced Level Five, he turned to her.

"Excuse me for asking," Harry said, "but aren't you headed for the Department of Mysteries?"

Cold grey eyes stared back at him, and he suddenly realised why he had thought that she looked familiar, earlier on. "So," the witch said in a tone that was half-taunting, half-amused, "You can recognize the color of the robes that Unspeakables wear. Congratulations, Potter."

The two men from Magical Maintenance stopped rowing for a moment to stare at her. One of them, the burly, badly shaven one, said, "'Ey! Aren' you the little scum tha' the Departmen' of Mysteries took by pity!" to his companion, who jeered.

"The Ministry of Magic is supposed to be indiscriminating," she said coolly, sneering, "so I'm not entirely sure that your theory is rightly formulated, sir."

She clenched her jaw and turned back to Harry, who had been just about to defend her. He had known her, before; even if he hated her family, he wasn't about to let her be pushed round. However, it seemed that his services weren't quite required.

"Megara Malfoy?" Harry blurted out before she could say anything. "You graduated?"

She snickered. "Don't look so surprised, Potter," Megara inclined her head. "Last year, actually. I think you are a tiny bit behind the times."

Harry scowled. He had, actually, heard of her graduation, from Andromeda "You know Narcissa's granddaughter?" "Yeah?" "Well, she graduated in June. Teddy and I went to her graduation ceremony, actually." In his defence, though, he wasn't exactly thinking about the Malfoys' lives twenty-four-seven.

"Maybe I am," he shrugged. "I thought you had to train for three years to be an Unspeakable?"

"You've confused my field with yours," she remarked, shaking her head. "Only three summer-long internships."

"But still-"

Megara smirked. "You can't know everything, Potter, even if you did defeat the Dark Lord."

"I wasn't exactly asking for your political views," he snapped.

She appraised him, nose raised and head tilted.

"I told you my political views, back in the first year," Megara said softly, sneering. "Not really the place to discuss them, though, don't you think? Anyway. I digress. Headed for an important meeting, Potter?"

"Now," said Harry, frowning at her, "I really want to know how you know this. It's confidential."

"Lupin's still a close mate of mine." She gave a sly smile. "And I have my ways of knowing."

"That's not really encouraged," he muttered. "I'm going to ask Teddy about this..."

"Oh, of course you will. But he's allowed to have friends you hadn't specifically approved of, you know. We all are, actually."

The witch's falsely cheery voice announced, "Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services."

Harry stepped out of lift, more than glad to do so.

There was no time to vent over Megara Malfoy – he would leave that to later – once Harry arrived to the Auror Headquarters. Each Auror had their own cubicle; Harry's was between Jacob MacDonald's and Calliope Thames's. He put the rest of his lunch on his messy desk and kicked open the security door.

He couldn't help but see blood, at first, when the thin corridor, its sides surrounded by grey cubicles, came into sight. Then, he frowned and reminded himself that the year was not 2006; that escaped convicts were not here, laughing at the mauling of their previous comrade; that he was safe now.

He reminded himself that she was gone.

The conference room was at the end of the corridor. From the outside, he could hear voices that he recognized – the Minister's, Ron's, Calliope's, MacDonald's – he turned the knob. The Minister for Magic wasn't seated, and nor were the others; they stood around the large, gleaming clean table with twelve chairs (for the highest-ranking Aurors, and one for the acting Minister), speaking, joking, laughing.

"Harry!" Ron was the first to spot him. "You're finally here! Where'd you go to lunch, this time?"

Harry tried to conserve his dignity. "Leaky Cauldron," he said defensively. "Hannah gave me today's soup and some spaghetti. Played Catch-the-Snitch with Kellan for a while."

"Well," Calliope Thames narrowed her eyes at the two of them. "Important thing is that you're not late, Potter."

Jacob MacDonald snorted.

"Well said, Mrs Thames," Shacklebolt said in his deep, calming voice. "Harry, you're right on time. We'll have to discuss some things before we begin." He paused, frowning, and then his mouth curled into a small smile. "How about we all sit down? It'll be more comfortable."

"Yes, Minister," came the replies of the four Aurors. The sound of chairs being pulled out could be heard as they sat down.

"So," Shacklebolt looked at them carefully, especially Harry, "I would like to know why, exactly, you requested a meeting, Harry."

"You didn't hear?" When the Minister shook his head, Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Well. Neville sent me a letter, a while ago. Do you remember Horace Slughorn's recent death?"

"Yeah," Ron said, "what about it?"

Harry dipped his head. "He died of Protego Reverso. Neville suspects that it's her work."

Each and every of the Aurors knew who she was; Calliope gasped; Ron's eyes widened; MacDonald didn't look bored, for a change. Shacklebolt stayed calm, his face betraying nothing, although he did shift uncomfortably. "Are you sure, Harry?" the Minister for Magic inquired.

"Very," Harry said, sounding confident. "I'll state the evidence once everyone's here."

Shacklebolt got up. "I'll be out for a while, but I'll be back on time," he said, nodding to them, and he closed the door behind them.

The other Aurors, once they arrived, had questions for Harry, of course. Harry waved them off, saying that the meeting would answer all of them, and that they were welcome to take a seat if they wanted to. Neville was the last to arrive; he still wore his dragon hide gloves for Herbology when he came through the door.

Too soon, it seemed, the clock struck three, and the meeting could officially begin.

"... Potter, you must be kidding. Lestrange is not back."

The statement hung through the air, as the tension did, thick enough to be cut with a butter knife. Some Aurors, like Fudge had done, downright refused to believe that she was back. She, the Dark witch unlike any other who had threatened the Ministry years ago, during the 2006 rebellion.

"You don't want to believe that, Brenn," Harry said pleasantly to the thin-faced man, "because that will mean that you will have to live in fear once more."

"Exactly, Potter," MacDonald growled in support. "Some of us, contrarily to you, are not exactly brave."

Shacklebolt intervened before any of them could get into further argument. "That is true, Jacob," he intoned in a don't-you-contest-me tone. "But we shall all try. What Harry says is, I believe, quite true. Protego Reverso is known to be her signature spell, remember?"

"What's more," said a cynical voice that wasn't any of the Aurors', "is that her brand was hovering over Slughorn, like a Dark Mark in the sky, when his body was moved back to his quarters, several hours after his death. That closes all discussion on the matter, I must say."

Heads turned. The voice came from one of the many portraits in the conference room – in this case, the portrait of Professor Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, former Potions Master, and former Defence Against the Dark Arts instructor. Snape sat in his hard wooden chair, looking at them impassively with his cold black eyes. His hair was as greasy as ever; there was a hint of a bored drawl in his cynical tone.

"Where did you hear that, Professor?" Harry asked, twisting in his seat to face him.

Snape shrugged. "I'm a portrait, Potter; I hear many things you living people do not."

"You're lying," Ron shot; his face was paler than usual. His freckles stood out, golden-brown against his momentary milk-coloured complexion. His hands were forming fists as he glared at his former Professor. Unlike Harry, who had just about gotten over his dislike of Snape, Ron's hate of the man had never really left him in the nineteen years since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. "Snape, you're bloody lying."

"Don't be the fool you already are, Weasley," Snape crossed his arms and sneered. He couldn't help but snicker. "I know more about her than you, I'm afraid."

"Let Severus speak," Shacklebolt ordered. "Severus, have you seen the brand for yourself?"

"On Slughorn?" Snape slowly nodded, his expression emotionless. "Yes. You see, he has a portrait of himself, in his quarters – it came to find me as soon as his death was confirmed." He shut his eyes, as if he were reliving some past painful experience – a shocking event, when it came to the impassiveness of Severus Snape, to be displaying emotions so openly. And again, Harry thought, he was a portrait of a dead man, and he probably didn't really care. "You've seen it before, haven't you, Kingsley?"

"Once," Shacklebolt answered quietly, "once, over the body of Mrs Lee. Quite a loss."

Harry bowed his head at the mention of his colleague, deceased in the midst of the gory battle that had raged in December 2006, marking the end of the rebellion. The atmosphere was more subdued around him, as well. He cleared his throat and looked at Neville. "Neville," he said, "have you told McGonagall of Filch, yet?"

Neville nodded, drumming his fingers nervously against the wood of the table. He was painfully aware of the Aurors' and the Minister's stares. "Yes. We're planning to run a Legilimency examination over him after this meeting. He's a Squib; it'll be easy enough, I think. Then, we'll get someone to arrest him, and he'll be shipped to Azkaban to await his trial."

"What good will that do?" MacDonald asked scornfully. "You know that her followers can just escape. She has a talent for helping them at that."

"Oh, you and your bloody negative comments," Ron said sarcastically, scowling. "You're a real help, MacDonald."

"We're not going to fight," said Harry firmly. "We're going to-"

"... Unite and blah blah blah," MacDonald muttered. "Don't care."

Harry sometimes thought that the only reason he bothered keeping MacDonald as an employee was that he was an efficient, clever, quick-witted Auror, however surly and sarcastic he was. It was unfair to be fired because of your attitude, Harry mused.

"Jacob," Shacklebolt said in warning. He gathered his papers. "OK. So Harry, you're going to send a band of Aurors to Hogwarts as soon of possible."

Harry nodded. "Yes, Kingsley."

The Minister for Magic turned to Neville. "And you, Neville," he intoned. "You will be assigned the watch of not only Albus Potter at Hogwarts, but of also the rest of the Weasleys and the Potters in Gryffindor House. I want you to ask Julia and Selene to do the same, as well as with Drago. Everyone who has associations with the heroes of our side is at risk."

He stood up, satisfied, and nodded respectively to each of them before exiting.

"You thinking, Harry?" Ron said, trying to be cheery but failing drastically.

The three of them sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron with glasses of Butterbeers in front of them. For the past hour, they had quickly finished their dinner and promptly moved on to more important things – notably, the afternoon's meeting. Harry had drifted off mid-sentence, and was now staring off into space.

"Yeah, Ron," he said absentmindedly. "I'm a bit-"

"Worried?" Neville offered with a grim smile.

Harry nodded. "Haven't felt this anxious since the rebellion," he muttered.

"This isn't that much different from when we were fighting Voldemort," Ron pointed out. He was awarded with frowns – perhaps he hadn't been exactly sensitive, Ron thought, scratching his head. Some of this sensitivity versus bluntness etiquette still confused him vehemently, sometimes.

"Actually," Harry said, "it's very different. We didn't have kids then, mate. Before, I only worried about my friends and family – a bit about myself, too – but I didn't exactly have children running round. The thought of your children being caught up in this war business – it's a different kind of hurt."

Neville nodded, fiddling with his napkin.

"Agreed, mate," Ron at least had the decency to look remotely ashamed at his bluntness.

"I have a bad feeling about this," his friend continued. "Like..." He waved his hands idly. "Like, it's not our adventures anymore. It's theirs... And we can't really do much about that. As if we're 'too not' caught up with this stuff to help."

Ron snorted. "Are you aware of how cheesy that sounded?"

Harry smiled wryly. "It does sound rather silly, doesn't it?"

Neville shrugged at them and sipped his Butterbeer thoughtfully.

"Only time can tell," he said quietly. "Only time can tell, mates. We'll have to take this day by day..."

Kinda crappy, I know *sigh* But I do like the first and last parts.

First of all: thank you for all of the reviews, once again :)

To The QAS: Thanks, especially, for the super-long review! I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE them! About Draco: yes, he may seem a bit harsh, but I promise that you'll see his side of the story at Christmas. As for the next gen kids, thank you :) It's good to know. I do agree with you on Rose - I think that she would have at least a little of Ron in her. Can't wait to see your Rose!

To Anonymous Reviewer: Yes, Percy will appear, and PJO too, but later on.

To alikat99 and GillRocks: Thank you!

To Hellfire44: Patience, it'll be included very soon.

Now, about the later chapters. I have them all planned out - I did write year 1 before. Next up is when someone disappears, and then Rose decides that it's time to take action. We'll find out more about Scorpius and his relationship with his family in the later chapters, along with more about an incident in Rose's childhood in particular.

About the updating: Now that the summer is over, I'm busier, but I'll try to update as soon as possible. The next chapters - my previous part 2 - are the hardest to write, I think, so don't expect anything too soon.

That's all :) Sorry for the super-long AN.