Harry Potter belongs to JKR.

Beta by FedererRex

Chapter 4

Harry stared into emerald eyes that matched his own, and they locked onto his and stared right back. A small gurgling sound was the only warning he received before tiny Teddy Lupin ejected the contents of his recently downed meal all over Harry's face and shirt. Luckily, his glasses protected his eyes somewhat, for whatever consolation that was worth. Blindly, he groped for his wand.

"Evanesco, Evanesco… Evanesco," Harry said wearily, vanishing the mess. He could still smell it but there was no point in trying to get rid of that until he could get the baby to actually keep a meal down. Two and a half hours, one enjoyable peek-a-boo session, one exhausting and very messy nappy change with extensive clean-up and sterilisation, and three failed attempts at feeding had left him thoroughly convinced he was passable at babysitting, but completely unfit to be a parent.

"Are you just, not hungry perhaps?" Harry asked, holding Teddy up to eye level.

Teddy cooed unhelpfully. It was unlikely; Andromeda had been clear on Teddy's feeding time, which by now had passed nearly half an hour ago.

"Alright, let's try it again," Harry said. He held Teddy in one arm while he prepared another bottle of milk. Zippy's Instant Infant Milk Preparer, a product he had been completely unfamiliar with until a few weeks ago, made it simple. Just add powder and water, and the magical jar took care of the rest. When it was ready, Teddy sucked it down greedily, making slurping noises every now and then. Harry watched as the little boy's hair turned messy and black as he stared at Harry while drinking. Three minutes later and the bottle was empty. Harry held Teddy as the boy twisted his face and whined uncomfortably. Harry could practically sense another imminent round of forceful regurgitation approaching. Just then he heard a pop from outside the front door. Andromeda Tonks walked in and let the screen door bang shut behind her. Just past forty-five years of age, she still possessed an aristocratic beauty, with soft brown curls falling to just below her shoulders. Harry resisted the urge to sigh in relief as she closed and bolted the front door behind her.

"Hello Harry, how's he doing?" Andromeda asked.

"We were having fun earlier but now he doesn't seem to be able to keep anything down," Harry replied.

"Have you tried burping him?" she asked.

"Have I… No, no I haven't," Harry replied. He turned Teddy around, sat him on his lap and started patting him on the back.

"How was it?" Harry asked.

"Excellent," Andromeda replied, as she hung up her grey cloak on a hook near the front door, "thank you for coming over and watching Teddy, having even just a few hours to catch up with old friends makes a world of difference."

"Honestly, I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing," Harry said.

"That's normal," Andromeda said.

Their conversation was interrupted by a massive belch from the infant, who then burbled happily, as if proud of his accomplishment.

"Whoa, big one," Andromeda said, bending over to lift Teddy up and place him on a colourful playmat on the floor. She wound up a toy stuffed dragon and set it off flying about Teddy's supine form. The little green critter swept down towards the infant and then flapped its wings as it flew away, daring Teddy to try and catch it. It let out a roar that sounded more like a cat's meow as it turned and dove again. Teddy squealed with delight and flailed his arms about, trying to catch it, or at least knock it off course.

"Don't worry about it. Like anything else, it comes with practice," Andromeda said, sitting down in a rocking chair and crossing her legs.

A pang of guilt shot through Harry.

"Sorry I haven't been able to come by more often," Harry said, "every time I see Teddy, I feel like he's grown another inch or two."

"It's alright Harry. You do make time to visit, and that's enough," Andromeda said, "especially considering all you've got on your plate..."

"I feel like it isn't though," Harry said, "it feels like, I'm expected to be everywhere at once, when all I really want to do is be here for you and Teddy."

"And Ginny," he thought.

"And that's how I know you'll be a good godfather," Andromeda said, "once things have settled down a little bit."

"Hopefully it won't be too long," he said.

The entire summer seemed to be an endless parade of funerals, memorials, interviews, witness testimony, and summonses by the Ministry or the Unspeakables. That didn't count all of the social calls from people he barely knew, requests for endorsement from aspiring politicians, pleas for donations or fundraising appearances for various charities or rebuilding efforts, demands for restitution from the goblins, even an awards ceremony with the ICW. Individually, each one wasn't that much of a drain on his time, but taken all together he'd been all but overwhelmed by the sheer volume of correspondence and scheduling required.

Unbidden, the illustration from Tales of the Beetle Bard, Ignotus Peverell hiding from Death came to mind, and his thoughts turned to the invisibility cloak currently folded up in his pocket. Sometimes, he just wanted to disappear, but he had responsibilities now, and he would do everything in his power to make sure Teddy didn't suffer the same uncertainties about his family as he had. Teddy would know his godfather growing up, and he would make sure Teddy knew Remus and Tonks through him.

"I'll always make time for you and Teddy, Mrs. Tonks," he added.

Andromeda rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Harry, call me Andromeda," she said.

"Sorry, still feels a bit weird," he replied.

They watched the baby play with the toy dragon for a few minutes. Harry looked up at Andromeda to see an expression of love, but also bitterness and steely resolve as she watched her grandson occupy himself. Harry remembered the first time he saw her, confusing her for Bellatrix. It was amazing how two people who looked so much alike could be so different. They had the same dark curls, the same aristocratic nose and high cheekbones, but Andromeda's features were softer. It probably helped she wasn't stark raving mad with whatever sanity and goodness she might have once possessed destroyed by the dementors of Azkaban.

He moved from the couch to kneel next to Teddy and smoothed the boy's now unruly hair.

"Teddy, I've got to go, I'm starting Auror training tomorrow, so I can help catch the bad people," he said, "don't worry though, I'll be back to visit when I can."

Teddy burbled incoherently but smiled up at Harry, reaching out towards his face.

"He likes you," Andromeda said.

"Good, I like him too," Harry said as he vainly attempted to smooth Teddy's hair, then stood up again.

"Are you sure I can't convince you to stay for tea?" Andromeda asked.

"Sorry," Harry replied, "I'm due to meet up with Ron; we're moving our things to London today."

Andromeda nodded. Harry suspected she hadn't really expected him to stay.

"Perhaps next time," he said as he donned a light green jacket and stepped to the front door.

"Take care of yourself, Harry," Andromeda said.

"I will," Harry said, "you too, Andromeda, bye Teddy!"

He made sure the door closed quietly then twisted in place on the porch and apparated to Ottery St. Catchpole.

The Burrow looked much the same as it always had from the outside as Harry walked up the garden path, all odd angles and haphazard additions. Fortunately, it was sunny today, but Harry quickly realized that also meant the gnomes were out in force. He kicked at one that tried to bite his ankle, but the little creature hopped away and shook its fist at him, shouting something in a language Harry didn't comprehend in the slightest but was almost certain was some kind of obscenity. Apparently, the gnomes hadn't been cleared in far too long. Harry beat a hasty retreat and stepped up to the front door, raising a hand to knock. He hadn't even gotten to the second rap of knuckles before the door was thrown open by Molly Weasley.

"Harry dear, so good to see you," she said, gathering him into a quick crushing embrace, "come in, come in, Ron's just in the kitchen at the moment."

"Good afternoon Mrs. Weasley," Harry said once he'd recovered his breath, stepping across the threshold.

The inside of the Burrow was much as he remembered and yet completely different. The room itself was the same, but the chaos of a house full of redheads was absent and the sitting room was noticeably silent. The Weasleys had been forced to go into hiding during the war, but it had been months since they'd returned. A broom and dustpan absently swept the floor, and other pieces of furniture moved themselves out of the way as the charmed sweepers made their way about. Atop the mantle in a glass display case stood Ron's sparkling Order of Merlin, First Class, given a place of honour at the front and centre. The clock with a hand for each family member hung on the wall in the same spot, the hand labelled 'George' pointed firmly at 'Home', along with Ron's and Molly's. Everyone else was either at school or work. Harry noted with a pang of sadness the absence of Fred's hand.

"How is he today?" Harry asked quietly.

"George is… coping, as best he can," Mrs. Weasley said, a half-smile, half-grimace on her face, "as are we all."

Harry nodded.

"If there's anything I can do to help…" Harry said.

"We'll manage," Mrs. Weasley said with a warm smile, "would you like some tea?"

Ron chose that moment to emerge from the pantry, munching on an apple.

"Hiya mate," he said, mouth only partially full.

He stepped close and gave Harry a long sniff.

"You don't smell like poo this time, I think you might be getting better at this whole godfather thing," Ron said with a smirk, taking another bite.

"Ronald, are you packed yet?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Mostly," Ron replied.

"Harry can help me," he added quickly upon seeing the Weasley matriarch's hands starting to move to her hips, "come on Harry."

"Maybe next time Mrs. Weasley," Harry said.

The two of them thumped up the rickety steps, Ron taking them two at a time until he stopped short so suddenly Harry ran into the back of him. Harry looked up to see George Weasley on the landing. He'd lost significant weight; his clothes, a simple faded green t-shirt and beige joggers with a large brown stain on the front of one leg, hung off his frame. He was barefoot, and dark shadows coloured the skin under his eyes.

"Heya George, Harry's here," Ron said.

"Could you perhaps not sound like a herd of elephants going up the steps?" George said, "some of us would like a bit of peace and quiet for a change."

"Sorry George," Ron said as his older brother shouldered past the two of them.

They made their way up to Ron's room more slowly after that. 'Almost' packed was apparently code for most of his clothes, his school stationary, his broomstick repair kit, a small wizard's chess set strewn across every available surface, including most of the floor. The deluminator he'd inherited from Dumbledore sat on the foot of the bed next to his trunk.

"He still blames me?" Harry asked, once they were safely inside with the door closed.

Ron shook his head.

"No. I mean… you know he never really did, right?" Ron replied, "It's just… it's just hard for him."

Harry nodded, frowning.

"He seemed almost back to normal at the shop when I was helping him in the run up to the start of the school year," Ron said, "But now it's quieted down a bit and he's taken some time off…"

Ron trailed off.

"Not much to occupy him," Harry said.

Ron nodded.

"With Ginny back at school now, I feel a bit bad leaving him with just mum and dad, honestly," Ron said, "I mean, I'm not having second thoughts at all.., it's just difficult."

Harry shoved some clothes to one side of the bed and sat down.

"I feel about the same leaving Teddy with Andromeda," Harry said, "but we have at least Sundays off, right? How about we make sure we come back to visit on Sundays. At least until George is a bit better."

"Yeah, good idea Harry," Ron said.

The two packed Ron's trunk in silence for a few minutes, when there was a knock on the door.

"I've made you boys a snack," Mrs. Weasley said, opening the door and leading with two plates of quartered white sandwiches.

"Thanks mum," Ron said, quickly grabbing one and devouring half of it in one bite.

"Here's a casserole for you, in case you get hungry," she said, floating a large covered glass bowl into the room, "and a tomato soup, and I made roast turkey as well, also some shepherd's pie, some corned beef, sausages, and peach cobbler, and apple pie, and chocolate pudding."

As she listed off each item they floated into the room and neatly stacked themselves next to Ron's trunk until the stack threatened to fall over.

"Honestly mum, I'm going to be back on Sunday," Ron said.

"Oh, just eat what you like then," Molly said, "come give your mother a hug."

She held her arms open.

"Mum!" Ron said, but there was no escape as he was enveloped.

"I can't believe my little Ronnie-kins is all grown up," Molly said as she pulled Ron's taller frame down to her, "seems like just yesterday I was changing your nappies."

Ron gave Harry a pleading look but Harry just gave a tiny shake of his head, declining to offer any assistance.

"Mum, I'll be back in a few days, honest," Ron said, patting her on the back and trying to extricate himself, to no avail.

"And now look at you, Order of Merlin, First Class, off to join the Aurors. Just be careful when you're hunting down dark wizards," Mrs. Weasley said, holding tighter, "please, be careful, Ronald Weasley. Make sure you come home. I need you to come home."

There was a brief pause, and Harry palpably felt the mood shift.

"Alright mum," Ron said quietly, now holding his mother gently, "I'll come home."

"And you too Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing for him to join the hug, which he did, "you two take care of each other."

"We will Mrs. Weasley. We're only going to be training at first," Harry said.

Molly Weasley nodded as she released the two young men.

"And even when we're done, we'll have the whole Auror Corps on our side," Harry continued.

"I know, it's…," she said, sighing.

"I love you mum," Ron said, taking the initiative this time and pulling her into a hug one more time.

"I love you too Ron," Mrs. Weasley said, only accepting the hug briefly before pulling back.

"Now that's settled," she said, wiping an eye with a handkerchief, "let's get the rest of these things packed."

With Mrs. Weasley's help, they had everything remaining shrunk and secured neatly in Ron's trunk in under a minute, and then it was only another minute before they stood by the fireplace, floo powder in hand.

"Grimmauld Place," Harry said, tossing the powder at the grate. The flames roared and turned green.

"So that's it then, no goodbye?" George asked from the doorway to the kitchen.

"George," Ron said, turning in surprise as his eyebrows shot up.

George just shook his head and ignored them as he walked to the staircase, then stomped his way up to the second-floor landing. The sound of a slamming door echoed down the steps, followed by a long pause.

"You boys better get going," Mrs. Weasley said, breaking the silence, "you have a big day tomorrow and you'll need your rest. Let us worry about George."

"Thanks mum," Ron said, "we'll come visit soon."

Harry, figuring there wasn't much he could say at the moment, nodded and stepped through the flames.

He spun and twisted through the floo network, losing all orientation and sense of balance so when the fireplace at Grimmauld spit him out, he banged his knee on the stone floor, narrowly missing the carpet.

"Of course," he thought.

Grimacing, he got out of the way just in time as Ron came through, hefting his trunk in both hands.

"Lights," Harry said, and small globes of luminescence set near the ceiling brightened up the room. Gone were the mounted elf heads, the troll leg umbrella stand, the tapestries, and pretty much everything else that might hint that this was once the home of an ancient wizarding family with a well-deserved reputation for frequent dabbling in the Dark Arts. The worn carpeting had been replaced by faux Persian rugs, the wood flooring had been sanded and polished, and much of the furniture was new as well, giving the old house a cosy, welcoming atmosphere.

"Certainly looks a bit different than the last time I was here," Ron said, looking around.

"I can't really take credit, this is mostly Kreacher following Ginny's direction, whenever he wasn't off Merlin knows where," Harry said, "and IKEA catalogues."

Ron looked confused for a moment and looked like he was about to ask a question when the Kreacher appeared with a soft pop.

"Master Harry has returned," Kreacher said.

"Hello Kreacher," Harry said, "bring Ron's trunk to the kitchen, please. We need to offload a few things."

Kreacher bowed deferentially and levitated the trunk in question to the kitchen without a word.

Ron walked over to one of the couches, forest green with several pillows of various colours spread out at even intervals and a yellow blanket draped across the back, and sat down.

"Firm, but I reckon it'll be quite comfortable once it's broken in," Ron said.

"The cushions chafe a bit," Harry mumbled.

"Sorry?" Ron asked.

"The cushions don't perfectly fit," Harry replied without missing a beat, "it's cheap junk really but it's better than what was here before."

Ron slouched down, spread his arms out across the sofa back, stretched his legs out, looked up at the ceiling, and puffed out his cheeks as he let out a long breath.

"Seems fine to me," Ron said, "don't get me wrong mate, I love my family, but it must be nice to have your own place."

"For all I get to see it," Harry said, "honestly I think I may have spent less than twenty waking hours here all summer. But yeah, it is nice. Truthfully, it's good you're here, place would be a bit lonely with just me and Kreacher."

Ron's stomach chose that moment to give a growl.

"Speaking of Kreacher, think we can get him to put out some of that food my mum packed?" Ron asked.

Harry chuckled and nodded as they both made their way to the kitchen. A few minutes later and they were both enjoying a bit of Molly's turkey roast off fine china and the Black family silverware.

"Wish we could have done this with Hermione and Ginny," Harry said.

"Don't worry mate," Ron said, "we'll have a proper housewarming…. house-remodelling… party over Christmas."

Harry grinned at that and nodded. They fell into eating their dinner in silence.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Harry asked.

Ron nodded.

"After last year, how hard could it be?" Ron asked.

They both turned in not long after eating and awoke early the next morning, well before the sun rose. After checking to make sure Ron was awake, Harry took a cold shower to try and shock himself into alertness, with only marginal success. He dressed in simple black wizard's robes and muggle trainers and levitated his trunk down to the fireplace to join Ron, who was already waiting for him.

"Hopefully it'll be empty at this hour," Harry said, grabbing a handful of floo powder.

Ron nodded with a stifled yawn.

"Ministry of Magic," Harry said, tossing the powder in.

Fortunately, this time he managed to keep from completely losing his balance as he entered the nearly deserted Ministry floo foyer. The lone ministry worker he saw, a young man in his early thirties perhaps, probably heading into work early, either didn't recognize him or didn't care who he was, a welcome change of pace. The fireplace behind him flared again as Ron stepped through and the pair of them walked the long hallway to the Atrium towards Ministry reception beyond the memorial. Harry had been through here numerous times in the past few months but never when it was so empty. The background noise of the fountain trickling water drowned out the sound of their footsteps and gave the entire Atrium a sense of peace and tranquillity. They walked straight up to the reception desk, skirting around the reflecting pool and the knuts and the occasional sickle shining up from the bottom. The night receptionist, a short, portly wizard, looked up from his magazine with a dull stare, the light reflecting off his bald pate. The man's beady eyes made the familiar flick to Harry's scar and back to his face; his eyes widened and he sat up straight, tossing his magazine aside.

"Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, here for Auror training," Harry said. He could practically hear Ron grinning over his shoulder.

"Certainly, Harry Potter, err, Mr. Potter," the receptionist said, "um, I'll need your wands please."

Harry produced his holly and phoenix feather wand and turned it over, with Ron following suit. Much as he knew he was supposed to be safe inside the Ministry, he always felt a bit naked without his wand. Especially considering what had happened here. His eyes flicked around the Atrium.

"Dumbledore duelled Voldemort right there," he thought, "and blocked a killing curse there, and another one there. And right there is where I hit Lestrange…."

…"You need to mean them, Potter!"

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement is on level 2," the little man said, snapping Harry out of his reverie, "sorry, I'm sure you knew that. They're expecting you."

The receptionist handed them both visitor badges which affixed themselves neatly on the left side of their chests.

"Good luck Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," the receptionist said.

"Thanks," Ron replied before levitating their trunks over to the lifts.

The doors opened and they stepped in.

"Think we might have just made that bloke's day," Ron said with a grin.

"Yeh," Harry replied, no smile on his face.

They exited the lift as the chipper voice declared 'Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement'. The Auror headquarters were around the corner and down the hall from the lift, and both Harry and Ron knew the way well enough by now. The heavy oak double doors leading to the Auror headquarters were open, the sign above them barely visible in the gloom. They hadn't encountered anyone yet, so Harry pressed on through the short hallway and came to a room filled with cubicles on one side and dark offices on the other. There must have been over a hundred cubicles and several of them had magical orbs glowing above, indicating at least some of the Aurors had come in early, or perhaps worked the night shift.

"Hello?" Ron said.

A head out of the top of the bullpen.

"Potter? Weasley?" the Auror asked, "Dawlish wants you in his office, end of the hall, that way."

Harry and Ron made their way past the cubicles, past the receptionist's desk and to the one office with light streaming out of the open door onto the stained carpet. The sign proclaimed 'John Dawlish, Head Auror', and the man himself was seated at his large wooden desk reading over a document. Every square inch of desk space overflowed with parchment and pictures, some of which had spilled onto the floor. A large bulletin board sat on one wall with small photographs pinned to it, and on the opposite wall was a map of Great Britain with coloured thumbtacks identifying various locations. Dawlish looked up at the newcomers, his piercing blue eyes seeming to see right through them. He was a solidly built, if middle-aged man, his once brown hair now streaked with grey, and crow's feet growing around his eyes.

"Potter, Weasley, is it six am already?" he asked.

"Not quite sir," Harry replied, "it's about five to."

Dawlish sighed and ran a hand through his hair, then stood up.

"Come in, have a seat," he said, then looked to the chairs, which were also covered in papers.

Quickly he conjured another, smaller desk and levitated the papers off the chairs and onto the conjured furniture. Another page fluttered to the floor but he didn't bother to retrieve it. Harry and Ron deposited their trunks inside the door and entered the office, shaking Dawlish's hand before they sat down. The man had heavy bags under his eyes, and his robes were open near the top. Add to that the entire empty pot of coffee which sat on his desk, and it was a good bet he'd worked through the night.

"I wanted to welcome you personally to the Auror training program," Dawlish said, "I know we've had our differences in the past but I'm hoping we can put all that behind us. If you have got anything you want to say to me, now's the time."

Harry looked over at Ron to find him staring right back at him.

"If you're referring to the bit where you were Head Auror during Voldemort's rule, I'm pretty sure that's water under the bridge," Harry said.

"Yeah," Ron added, "what was it, seven muggleborn Aurors you helped escape the purges?"

"Seven, yes," Dawlish said, "not a day went by I didn't think about resigning, but no doubt it would have been worse with someone else in charge. Now that that mess is over, there's a whole other doxy swarm to deal with."

He gestured around the cluttered office.

"In case you hadn't noticed, we're critically understaffed," Dawlish said, "I know both of you have plenty of employment options outside of law enforcement, so you have my gratitude for deciding to join us."

Ron and Harry shared another glance.

"Sir, Harry and I are targets whether we like it or not. We figure helping hunt down the rest of Riddle's followers before they can come after us, or Hermione, or anyone close to us is where we're needed the most," Ron said.

Dawlish exhaled and Harry got the impression he was relieved but trying not to show it.

"We could definitely use it, the less Death Eaters running around the better, but so long as you're under my command, you follow orders," Dawlish said, "running off half-cocked will only get good people killed, and you don't want that on your conscience."

"Yes sir, we understand," Harry said, "and thank you for letting us waive our NEWT requirements. I'm not sure going back to Hogwarts for another year would have been the best thing for anyone."

Dawlish nodded in acknowledgement.

"The sooner we can get you into the field, the better," Dawlish said, "though, there are some aspects of training you'll just be liabilities without. For example, when you're legally allowed to use force, and how much."

Ron shifted in his seat and Harry sat up straighter, his interest sharpening.

"Arresting someone and bringing them in only to have them go free on a technicality doesn't do anyone any good," Dawlish said, "the normal Auror training program is three years, but given you two evaded practically the entire country for the better part of a year, and fought against marked Death Eaters, I'm putting you on a trial accelerated program, joining a group of trainees already most of the way through the standard program."

He tapped his wand on his desk.

"Mackenzie, come into my office please," he said.

Dawlish looked back to Ron and Harry.

"Lieutenant Aaron Mackenzie will be your trainer, he'll put you through your paces and have ultimate discretion as to whether you're field ready," Dawlish said, "are there any questions?"

"How long is the accelerated program?" Ron asked.

"That depends on you," Dawlish said, "Lieutenant Mackenzie will determine your readiness, here he is now."

Harry and Ron stood up to face the door. Aaron Mackenzie stood in the doorway, dressed in Auror style robes, dark green to designate his role as a trainer. He was tall and fit, if a bit on the slim side, and looked to be in his late 30's or so, with dark brown hair curling about the collar of his shirt. A narrow hawk-nose dominated his features as he briefly looked down at Harry and Ron then past them to Dawlish.

"Good morning sir," Mackenzie said.

"Mackenzie, these are your new trainees, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Dawlish said, "Potter, Weasley, Lieutenant Aaron Mackenzie."

"Good morning sir," Harry said, echoing Mackenzie and stepping forward to offer his hand.

Mackenzie's handshake was firm, and his fingers were long; they almost wrapped completely around Harry's hand. The trainer was nearly a foot taller than Harry as well, so much so that Harry had to almost crane his neck to make eye contact. Mackenzie shook Harry's hand first, then Ron's, holding each of their gazes slightly longer than usual and assessing them in turn.

"Mackenzie, they're all yours," Dawlish said, "weekly progress reports, please."

"Yes sir," Mackenzie said.

"Dismissed," Dawlish said, "good luck."

Mackenzie nodded.

"Follow me," Mackenzie said, turning and exiting towards the main lifts.

Ron and Harry hurried to levitate their trunks again and had to trot to keep up with Mackenzie, who was already waiting for them inside the lift by the time they got there. He led them back through the no longer deserted but still sparsely populated Atrium to Reception, where they retrieved their wands. The receptionist gave them a thumbs-up as they departed. From there, Mackenzie led them to the fireplaces.

"Auror training ground C," Mackenzie said, tossing in a handful of floo powder.

Ron and Harry followed close behind. They exited the fireplace (Harry managed to keep his balance this time; wonders never ceased) into a small, bare wooden hut whose only purpose seemed to be to house the floo fireplace. Mackenzie opened the door into the grey early morning light, and the two trainees followed him silently; Harry tugged at the collar of his robe to try and straighten it before they arrived at their destination. In front of them stood a running track complete with grassy field in the centre of it, and what looked like floating quidditch training obstacle rings and barriers above. To the left of the track stood several squat single-story buildings of varying sizes, all wooden and built in a similar fashion as the hut they'd just left. Fitted stone paths led to the doorways of the buildings, and manicured dew-covered grass covered the rest of the grounds. To the right of the track, large trees of old growth forest stretched up towards the sky, a few leaves just barely showing the first hint of yellow. Beyond the track lay what looked like an obstacle course of some kind; it was difficult to make out details due to the light fog covering the grounds. Mackenzie led the way directly to the running track.

"Leave your trunks there," Mackenzie said, motioning to the side of the track, "have you had breakfast this morning?"

"Not really," Ron replied, letting his trunk down gently.

"Bad luck," Mackenzie said, "let's get started with a 5k run."

"What, right now?" Ron asked.

Mackenzie drew his wand from an arm holster and cast a wordless spell which created a glowing set of numbers in mid-air. Seconds started ticking up from zero.

Harry began stripping off his outer robes.

"Leave them on," Mackenzie said, "Aurors wear robes."

"Yes sir," Harry said, pulling them back on.

"Couldn't we just-OW!" Ron said as Mackenzie fired a mild stinging hex at his backside.

Harry immediately started running, looking over his shoulder to make sure no hexes were coming his way.

"Guess we know who the smart one is," Mackenzie said with a smirk as he fired another stinging hex at Ron, who twisted out of the way.

"Faster, Weasley, Potter's getting a lead on you," Mackenzie said, firing off three more stinging hexes at Ron's feet, "wands out! Run!"

Ron danced away and all but sprinted to catch up to Harry, one hand rubbing his bum and the other pulling out his wand. After the 5k, it was push-ups, followed by a series of wind sprints, followed by squats, followed by another 2k run. The sun burned away what remained of the fog as Mackenzie drove them farther and faster. By midmorning, Harry and Ron both dripped sweat, their robes and clothing near soaked. His wand was slippery in his hand, and Harry's arms and legs burned from both the heat of the day and the exertions his body wasn't used to. He bent over, panting, struggling to regain his breath after yet another set of wind sprints.

"Wands up," Mackenzie called.

Harry looked up to see a pair of yellow targets hovering at chest height about fifty feet away.

"Stinging hex, hit the targets," Mackenzie called, "three…two…one."

Harry's arm shook as he fired off a hex at the left target, while Ron took the right. Both of the targets turned red as the hexes sailed wide.

"Congratulations, you just killed two hostages," Mackenzie said.

Harry's shoulders slumped as he panted, bent over again, hands on knees. He couldn't even summon up the energy to be annoyed.

"Twenty more push-ups, and then a five-minute break," Mackenzie said.

Harry finished the push-ups far slower than the first set he'd done earlier in the day, then flopped onto his back in the grass, eyes closed and mouth open, arms spread out to each side, just revelling in the sensation of the warm sun on his face and of not moving for a moment. He willed his breaths to deepen and slow, and he could hear Ron gasping to his right, probably in a similar position. Harry's brain swam around a bit looking a quip or remark to make but it just wasn't really cooperating. His stomach protested at him and he deeply regretted leaving the house without eating anything.

"Are we sure Mackenzie isn't a Death Eater in disguise, trying to kill us via physical exhaustion?" Ron asked.

Ah, there was the quip.

"No," Harry replied, "no I couldn't confirm that for you right now Ron."

Harry propped himself up into a reclined sitting position, only to see a large bald man, perhaps in his late 40's, wearing blue Auror robes, walking up to Mackenzie at the side of the track.

"Morning Aaron," the large man said.

"Lester," the trainer said stiffly.

"That's Captain Robards to you, now, Mackenzie," Robards said.

"Sorry, good morning Captain, what can I do for you?" Mackenzie asked.

"Here to see the new trainees," Robards replied, looking their way, "they look like shit."

"It's their first day," Mackenzie replied.

"That's not an excuse," Robards said, "Potter, on your feet, Weasley, over here."

Robards strode across the track and onto field as Harry dragged himself to his feet. Ron looked like he would have preferred to crawl over or perhaps roll over to Mackenzie but pulled himself up instead and managed to only stumble once on the way to the edge of the track. Harry watched as Robards approached him, and something about the deliberateness of the way the Auror was walking tipped him off. Robards drew his wand in a flash and fired off a wordless cutting curse at Harry but he was ready, deflecting it skyward with a wordless protego.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted as he dodged to the side, pushing against the protests of his muscles, firing off a red beam towards Robards.

"Really Potter?" Robards said as he didn't even need to sidestep.

Behind him Harry could see Ron aiming at Robards' back but Mackenzie grabbed the trainee's arm and whispered into his ear. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and Harry tried to shake off the exhaustion of their recent exertions as he dodged or blocked a seemingly endless stream of wordless hexes and curses spewing from the tip of Robards' wand. The grass of the field was torn up and chunks of dirt went flying, kicked up by the curses which missed or were deflected by Harry, but as exhausted as he was, there was no opening for Harry to counter attack, and no cover in the field to hide behind. Eventually he was reduced to holding a shield spell up against the barrage, but that only lasted for a few seconds.

"Bombarda," Robards said, blasting a small crater to Harry's left. The debris from the explosion forced Harry to drop his shield and duck to one side.

"Incarcerous," Robards said, and thin cords sprung out of his wand to bind Harry's arms and legs, "Petrificus Totalus. Levicorpus."

Harry, completely unable to move, was flung into the air by his ankle, his robes falling partially over his face. Blood rushed to his head as he spun lazily in the air. His mind raced for a way out; there was no way he could finite these spells wordlessly.

"How in the world did someone like you ever defeat You-Know-Who?" Robards asked, rotating Harry around to face him.

"That's enough, Lester," Mackenzie called.

"Why don't you go fetch Weasley's robes or something and let the real Auror finish his evaluation," Robards replied over his shoulder.

The Auror Captain turned back to look Harry in the eye, a mistake, because Harry still held his wand. He couldn't move, and it was at an awkward angle, but it was close enough.

"Legilimens!" Harry thought with all his might as he pushed his consciousness into Robards'. It was a wordless use of the ability and Harry wasn't very accomplished, but he got flashes of images and feelings, Robards threatening or berating Mackenzie in one of the Auror offices, a strong sense of frustration, guilt, anger, disdain, an urge to take the celebrated Boy-Who-Lived down a notch, to prove he was a fraud. It couldn't have been more than a second or two before Robards pushed him out with a growl and Harry found himself staring him in the eye again.

"Twat," the bald man said, "Depulso!"

With a bang, the world spun, alternating between a blur of blue and white sky and the green grass of the field as the banishing charm sent Harry, already suspended in the air, tumbling end over end. The incarcerous cords were gone and Harry instinctively tried to tuck his head and legs in but found the Full-Body-Bind still very much in effect. He mentally prepared himself for a great deal of pain on impact as he frantically tried to wordlessly cast a cushioning charm.

Molliare! Molliare! Molliare!

It wasn't working. Harry tried to squeeze his eyes shut but the bind prevented it.

"Molliare!", Ron yelled from a distance, and the world suddenly stopped spinning with a view of perfectly cut manicured green grass no more than an inch away. The blades beneath him swayed in a puff of exhaled breath before the cushioning charm released him to fall on his face.

There were a few words spoken, too far away from him to hear, then the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Finite," Ron said, and Harry was able to move again.

Harry pushed himself up to a sitting position and all he could see were a few fuzzy shapes of green and blue, and a roughly Ron-shaped shadow.

"You okay mate?" Ron asked.

"Accio glasses," Harry said.

They zoomed from at least twenty feet away into his outstretched hand, and Harry slipped them on, bringing the world back into focus.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, holding out a hand.

Ron pulled him up to his feet and Harry looked around. They were near the centre of the field, maybe thirty meters from the bombarda crater. Robards was nowhere to be seen and Mackenzie stood watching from about five meters away. On the far side of the fence separating the track from the squat buildings a group of four people stood watching, leaning against the fence, two men and two women, from what Harry could tell at this distance.

"Alright Potter?" Mackenzie asked.

Harry looked at the trainer in disbelief.

"What exactly is his problem?" Harry asked.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Mackenzie replied.

Harry's brain stuttered at the absurdity of this statement, seeing as he'd nearly been seriously injured a few minutes prior.

"Are you mad?" Ron asked, "he could've killed Harry just now, and why wouldn't you let me stop him, he clearly went too far!"

"Trust me, it would have just been worse," Mackenzie said, "if you'd attacked him from behind, he probably would have tried to get you expelled from the program. I'll um… handle Robards, you two take your trunks to the barracks and start going through the SOP manuals. We start again tomorrow at 0600."

Ron seemed to be at a loss for words. Or perhaps several words were competing for priority. Harry could tell he was on the verge of an explosion.

"It's okay Ron, forget it," Harry said.

Instantly Ron clamped his mouth shut as he got the hint; they'd talk about it privately later.

"Hey Potter! Way to land on your face!" one of the men called from the fence.

Harry felt his cheeks heating up as Mackenzie left them to walk towards the group.

"Harry I just realized something," Ron said, "Mackenzie said barracks, and barracks means beds."

Bed sounded fantastic.

"Excellent thinking," Harry replied, trying to put the thought that he'd been thoroughly embarrassed in front of some his future peers out of his head, "and people say Hermione's the brains of our little trio. Bloody genius, Ron."

He started making for their trunks at top speed, which at this point was more of a fast hobble. They levitated their belongings and made their way along the paths to the squat buildings. A helpful signpost pointed out the location and distance of various buildings and they were able to find the barracks without an issue. It was a rectangular room, wood, like the rest of the buildings. Six cots in all sat against the walls on either side, brown sheets neatly tucked in. Windows were set above the head of each of the beds, and currently all were open to help air out the cabin. A few posters hung from the walls above the beds, next to or under the windows. All but the two farthest from the entrance had trunks already placed at the foot of them. An adjoining set of shower stalls and toilets sat connected to the far side of the room. Identical stacks of books sat on the two unoccupied cots closest to the bathroom. Ron and Harry made their way to their beds, and Harry immediately took the one on the left while Ron stopped halfway through the room to look at one of the posters on the right.

"Hey, this bloke's a Cannons fan," Ron said, inspecting the poster above the bed, replaying an orange clad player pulling off a Speelman Steal.

"Brilliant," he said with a grin.

"Brilliant," Harry agreed.

After setting his trunk down, Harry pulled out some clean clothes, robes, and a towel, and made his way to the showers. The floors and walls here were covered with rough tile to prevent slipping, and the stalls had doors on them for privacy. Harry set his wand in the holder on the inside of the stall and turned on the spray. The hot water splashed over his sore muscles, and he had to suppress a sigh. He'd meant to take a quick one but the soothing, near-scalding water just felt so damn good he lingered a few minutes. After towelling off and dressing, he returned to his bed to flip through the manuals quickly while Ron finished up his shower. There were several books of varying thickness: The 1998 Auror's Manual Standard Operating Procedures, How Not to Be Seen: Being the Chameleon, Disguise: More Than Skin Deep, and Advanced Tracking and Shadowing. Clearly, if he thought his days of studying were over when he chose not to return to Hogwarts, he was sorely mistaken. Ron emerged from the shower, still towelling his hair, and cast a quick mufflatio.

"What did you want to tell me earlier?" Ron asked.

"Right," Harry said, "I was able to get a bit of legilimency off on Robards, while I was upside down. He's thinks I'm a fraud, wants to, I don't know, prove I'm not… worthy or something."

Ron frowned.

"Ungrateful son of a bitch," Ron said, "where's he get off, attacking you out of nowhere…"

"I don't know, somehow it's personal with him, not sure why," Harry said, "also there's some history between him and Mackenzie, I didn't see what."

"I didn't need legilimency to notice that," Ron said, "Mackenzie was legitimately afraid of him, said he wouldn't be able to protect me from getting tossed if I cursed Robards in the back."

Harry hmm'ed and thought back. He grabbed a fist full of bedsheet and punched his fist lightly into the mattress.

"I'm actually really annoyed that he tried to embarrass me on my first day," Harry said, "livid, actually."

"I've got to say Harry, you're handling it pretty well," Ron said.

Harry recalled the past, how often he'd flown off the handle. Sure, part of that could have been attributed to a piece of Voldemort being stuck in his head, but not all of it.

"Grown up a bit I suppose," Harry said, "all those months restraining myself from hexing journalists asking stupid provocative questions and smiling for the cameras when all I wanted to do was punch something."

Ron smirked.

"Do you reckon you could have taken him, if you weren't, you know, half dead from running laps?" Ron asked.

Harry pursed his lips in thought.

"I don't know, he was quick, and he wasn't really using any of the really powerful or Dark curses… but I'm sure as hell not going to take this lying down," Harry said, "I'm going to train my arse off. He'll be in for a surprise the next time he tries something like that. You with me?"

"Fuck yeah," Ron said, "but first things first, food."