A/N: For those of you who haven't read Wrath of Merlin, I suggest you read that first, as this story is the sequel. For those of you who have, welcome to Act II. Like Wrath of Merlin, I've updated Auror Commander – some ten years after first publishing it – to generally sharpen the narrative and improve its continuity.
There are political elements to this story – I've never read anything that really takes on the political intricacies of the Ministry, and I have a background in political science, so I thought I'd give it a shot. You'll find allusions to Parliament and Congress, amongst other political institutions. As the story unfolds, I'll make a point of explaining the various roles and elements. In equal measure, I'll also explore the details of professional Quidditch – and the British and Irish League.
Narrative is mostly third-person – however, on occasion, I'll write from first-person if I specifically want to tell the story from their point-of-view.
AUROR COMMANDER
a Harry & Ginny story
—
I. Yours to Command
"The object of war is not to die for your country, but to make the other bastard die for his."
– General George Patton
Harry Potter woke to the sound of a phone ringing.
"Good morning, sir, this is your five o'clock wake up call."
He put the phone back down, and reached for his glasses. Blinking, he peered at the drab surroundings of the Muggle hotel he was staying in, and slowly got out of bed. One scalding hot shower later, he changed and packed his possessions into a trunk that had seen decidedly better days. Resolving to find more permanent accommodation in the next few days, Harry checked out of the hotel, and made his way to a small cafe for breakfast.
Through mouthfuls of bacon and a slice of toast, Harry considered the decision he'd been forced to make by the Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.
It'd taken him all week and a sleepless Saturday night to decide, but now he was ready. Leaving a few pounds on the table, Harry, careful to not place too much pressure on his injured leg, made his way onto the street. Allowing a quick stop to purchase a hot drink from a street vendor, Harry headed towards the Ministry of Magic in central London.
As he reached the Visitor's Entrance, Harry donned his cloak, pulling the hood over his head. He wanted to avoid being seen by too many people. Stepping out of a fireplace in a flash of green flames, he headed towards the registration desk in the vast Atrium.
"Good morning sir," a witch greeted, not bothering to look up from her copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Morning," he replied, his face obscured partially by the hood.
"Your wand?"
He rested his wand on the counter as she flipped the paper back to the front page. Harry smirked as he saw an image of himself occupying the main article.
"Name and purpose of visit?" she asked.
"Harry Potter, to see the Minister for Magic."
The witch froze, and looked up, her face a mix of shock and disbelief.
"Harry Potter?"
"Yes."
To her credit, she quickly regained her composure. Pressing a small red button, she spoke into a receiver on her desk.
"Please inform the Minister that Harry Potter has just arrived."
The witch directed him towards a lift with a silver door that Harry knew would take him directly to the Minister's offices. He got in, and grabbed for a handhold as the lift shot upwards.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, was waiting outside the lift when the doors reopened on Level One.
"Harry, it's very good to see you," he grinned.
"Careful, Kingsley, you can't be doing your job right if you're happy about something," Harry replied wryly, shaking the Minister's proffered hand.
The Auror-turned-politician let out a hearty laugh as they made their way down the hallway.
"Please Harry, I just want to see the look on the faces of the Press Corps when I make the announcement. I'm expecting something along the lines of collective apoplexy."
"The Press Corps is nothing," Harry replied. "What about the Wizengamot?"
"This will do them some good, Kingsley said. "If I'm in luck, a third of them will die of shock."
"You don't think they'll try to overrule you on my appointment?"
"If they do, they won't succeed," Kingsley replied. "You still have strong public support."
"Strong public support?"
"We ran a poll on the public's perception of you over the weekend," said Kingsley as they walked through an ante-room connected to the Minister's office. A group of Ministry undersecretaries stared as they walked past.
"You ran a poll?" Harry said.
"Of course we did," Kingsley replied. "This is politics."
Kingsley opened the door to his office, and Harry walked in. The Minister's office was large and opulent. Magically enchanted windows offered Kingsley an expansive view of London's skyline. Harry took a seat in a chair opposite the Minister's desk.
"I just need you to sign these papers, and then we'll head down to the Auror Office," Kingsley explained. "They're the same as the ones I sent you by owl on Saturday."
"Don't you have undersecretaries for this sort of thing?"
"Of course, but you can appreciate my personal interest," Kingsley replied, handing him a quill.
Harry took the quill and scrawled his signature on the parchment. It gave a golden glow as he finished his name.
"Welcome to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Kingsley, a slight tone of satisfaction in his voice.
"Don't be too excited, Kingsley," Harry replied. "I might be absolute rubbish at this."
"You were Captain of your Quidditch Team, right?"
"Yes, but how does Quid–"
"Then you've got nothing to worry about," Kingsley interrupted him. "Let's head down."
"Run!" Gwenog Jones bellowed.
Ginny ran, trying to ignore the pounding ache in her chest.
Nearly there.
"Come on, ladies, this isn't a dance floor!" Jones yelled. "This is professional Quidditch!"
Ginny steeled herself for the last mile. Her feet and knees were ready to give in. But then she crested the top of the hill, and saw the beach, with the Holyhead team campus beside it. It was dominated by the massive Holyhead Bowl – a Quidditch Stadium that had been standing in various iterations for some five hundred years.
With her teammates, she crossed the finish line and was handed a water bottle by one of the team trainers. She gratefully took it.
"Right, that's enough!"
Gwenog Jones glared at the group of women, twenty-three in all, as they caught their breath at the finish line.
"We run ten miles around Holyhead three times a week. The fitter you are, the better you play. And what happens to those who play the best?"
"They win!" the group of women chorused.
"This weekend, we take on the Wasps at Exmoor," Gwenog said. "I intend to start two rookie Chasers and one rookie Beater. But only if they prove themselves in training. Sure, it's a preseason game. It won't effect the outcome of the season, right?"
Someone shrugged.
"WRONG!" she bellowed.
"The difference between winners and losers in this league is simple," Gwenog continued. "Ask a winner if they think every game matters, and I guarantee you the answer will be yes. Winners, not losers, appreciate the value of every second of game time. Weasley! Why is that?"
Ginny swallowed, and answered.
"Because a second can make all the difference."
Gwenog narrowed her eyes, but then nodded approvingly – to Ginny's relief.
"Not bad, Weasley," she replied. "You're right! A second can change the outcome of a game. A game can change the outcome of a season. A season can change the outcome of a career. Your legacy is at stake, ladies, every time you fly onto that pitch!"
Five Aurors had gathered in one of the briefing rooms they used for missions. The room was bare aside from a row of stout wooden chairs, a couple of tables, and maps lining the walls. Other Ministry Offices trended towards the ostentatious, but simple and spartan suited this group just fine.
These five held the rank of Senior Auror, First Class. Each embodied what it meant to be a Dark wizard hunter.
"Shacklebolt intends to name a new Commander," remarked Albion Stark, a stout man with a greying beard and a twisting scar that ran the length of his right forearm.
"It should be you, Albion," Marcus Savage replied. "The Minister named you as acting Commander after Gawain died."
"Or Tiberius," Albion demurred. "We both ranked just as high as Kingsley did when Scrimgeour was named as Commander."
"Agreed," added John Proudfoot, joining the chorus of assent from the assembled group.
"It would be a fine honour for any of us to receive, but it is not our decision to make," replied Tiberius. "It lies, as always, with the Minister. Only way around it is if the Wizengamot overrules the appointment."
"We should nominate both of you as candidates for the position," suggested Siobhan O'Reilly. "Kingsley can choose."
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the conversation and the voice of an Auror trainee came through.
"Minister Shacklebolt is here. He wants a word with everyone."
The Aurors gathered in the main office, a large open space divided into cubicles. Kingsley stood before them, but most of their attention was directed at the person who accompanied the Minister: Harry Potter.
Looking out at the assembled faces of the Aurors, Harry noticed with disappointment that a considerable number had looks of scepticism and distrust, if not outright dislike.
"For a couple of weeks now, I have put off naming a new Auror Commander. Now, that time has come," announced Kingsley. "I wanted to let you know first that I have chosen Harry Potter to succeed Gawain Robards as the Auror Commander."
"What?" exclaimed one of the Aurors, shocked disbelief written plain as day across his face.
"He's not one of us!" another said.
Harry raised his hands in a placating gesture.
"I know I–"
"He knows fuck all about the Auror Office!"
"And you didn't know how to beat Tom Riddle, but I did!" Harry said, his voice rising. "I did."
They were silent now. Some were refusing to look at him. Harry cleared his throat and continued.
"How many of you were there when I killed Voldemort? I'm not sure I recognise many faces," he said, scowling. This wasn't how he had wanted this to go.
"Have any of you ever seen a Basilisk?" Harry continued.
"A Basilisk?" John Proudfoot asked.
"Have you?" Harry pressed.
"No," answered the Senior Auror.
"I have," the young man replied. "When I was twelve. I killed it with the sword of Godric Gryffindor."
"A year later, Remus Lupin taught me how to cast a Patronus Charm," Harry said. "I used it to repel a swarm of Dementors in assisting the escape of Sirius Black – your number one target even though he was innocent. I was thirteen, and the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement couldn't catch him. You couldn't catch him."
"He died when I was fifteen, protecting me against Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries," Harry continued. "He was doing your job, right under your fucking noses!"
The room was so quiet you could scarcely hear the occupants breathing.
Harry looked around, as if daring someone to make eye contact, and then continued.
"These last twelve months, I was a part of a clandestine special operation formed to hunt down and kill Death Eaters."
He paused.
"You may have read about it in the papers."
This earned a light chuckle from the room.
"Some of you, I know. You came to my aid, trusted in me when I was betrayed by V. We fought alongside each other in the Forbidden Forest. You believed in me then. I'm asking you to believe in me now. I may do things differently. I know little of how you've run things in the past, but I'm a quick learner."
"I am your Commander."
The room was still.
No one made a move, or spoke.
Then Siobhan O'Reilly stood, looking him in the eye and lifted two fingers to her forehead in the Auror salute.
"We are yours to Command," she replied with conviction. Other Aurors stood around her, repeating her words and her actions.
"We are yours to Command."
"We are yours to Command."
"Done then," replied Harry, returning the salute.
But not every Auror had stood. Around a third of the room had remained seated in protest to his appointment, and the thunderous faces of Albion Stark and Tiberius Hawke were among them.
Harry gave a quiet sigh.
Nothing was ever easy.
"What the fuck are you playing at, Siobhan?" Stark exclaimed.
The witch glared at him.
"What do you mean?" she said.
"You siding with Potter! 'We are yours to Command' – what happened to supporting me and Tiberius?"
The Irish witch slammed her stack of paper down on the desk.
"I've got every bloody right to my own opinion, Albion," Siobhan said. "Potter was right. By comparison to him, we were next to useless in the war. We should be thanking him for accepting the Command!"
"I don't fucking believe this!" Albion replied. "He changed your mind in under a minute? He's just a boy!"
"You were there in the Forbidden Forest, Albion," Siobhan said. "He's as much a boy as you are. You felt his magic, saw how he fights! He left childhood a long time ago. And for the record, just because I think you or Tiberius would've made a good Commander, it doesn't mean I don't think the same of Potter!"
"It still doesn't make him an Auror!" Albion argued. "He doesn't know us, Merlin knows what kind of training he's done…he's an outsider!"
"You don't think he belongs?" Siobhan said.
"I've made it pretty bloody clear that I don't," the stout wizard replied.
"Put him on the floor. Training Room One. Let's see him up against the Gauntlet," Siobhan suggested.
"What will that prove?" Albion asked.
"If he beats it, then he's as good as any other Auror and deserves to be here," Siobhan said.
Albion made a derisive noise. "And when he fails?"
"Then we'll know for certain he's just human," she replied.
Albion made another sound of disgust.
"Fine. For the time being, he's your problem, Siobhan – whilst he lasts. Best show him where his office is, hmm?"
The brunette witch ignored the sardonic remark from her colleague and watched him stalk off. Her better judgement ruled against this. To her head, the very idea of Harry Potter becoming the Auror Commander was surely ludicrous. But her gut felt differently. Her gut instinct was to trust him.
And in a business where gut instinct meant the difference between life and death, Siobhan O'Reilly knew better than to go against her gut.
Harry followed Kingsley into a large office.
"This is yours," Kingsley said, spreading his hands.
Harry gave a low whistle.
A large oaken desk was flanked by a chair on either side, and a larger leather seat behind it. Bookshelves lined the walls, but sat mostly empty.
"You'll be able to select a range of materials from the Auror Library, and bring any magical instruments you may own as well."
But Harry had barely heard what Kingsley was saying. His attention was focused on the shining broadsword mounted on the wall behind his desk.
"That sword," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't believe it."
"It is as the inscription states," Kingsley replied. "The original Excalibur. It's a magical blade, Harry, of great power. This office is the safest – and most fitting place for it."
"It's Excalibur. Muggles still talk about this blade. To them, it's a legend. A myth," Harry said in awe.
"Well, to us, it's very, very real," Kingsley replied nonchalantly, then checked his watch.
"I have another appointment to get to," he added. "I'm sure I'll see you later today."
Kingsley exited as Harry took a seat behind the desk. He breathed in, and exhaled slowly, remembering something he'd learned under the tutelage of an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries.
He ran his hand over the oak desk. Generations of witches and wizards had led the Aurors. His predecessor, Gawain Robards, had died at the hands of Augustus Rookwood.
No pressure, Harry.
There was a sharp knock on the door and a new figure arrived: Siobhan O'Reilly. The brunette witch had her hair tied in a messy bun, and wore a proud expression on her features.
"Um, hi O'Reilly," Harry greeted her.
"Call me Siobhan," she replied in her Irish lilt.
Harry nodded.
"Alright Potter, let's get you set up proper," she said, taking one of the seats beside his desk.
"Firstly, you have an ExO, or an executive officer. Traditionally, it's a third-year Auror trainee. You're lucky, this one's quite good – but don't tell her I said that. Her name is Kara Albright,"Siobhan continued. "She's on a field assignment but should be back tomorrow."
"Okay," Harry replied. A voice in the back of his mind wondered idly if he should be writing this down.
"You also have two undersecretaries," Siobhan added. "Your ExO will do most of the liaison work, but the secretaries will organise your schedule, your meetings, and keep you on time. I suggest visiting them in Department reception when you can. They'll decide who gets to see you."
"Why can't I?"
"Because then you'd waste time deciding who to see, and we can't afford that."
"So I have three people looking after me?" Harry asked.
Siobhan blinked.
"You're the Auror Commander, not one of the bloody imbeciles who works in Accidents and Catastrophes," she replied. "Yes, you have three people."
"Next: you're responsible for the daily security briefing to the Minister," Siobhan added. "This is prepared for you to review. It's the first thing on your desk each morning. It's copied to the Deputy Minister, as well as the Department Heads responsible for national security."
"Then you have quarterly appointments with the Department Heads," Siobhan went on, "and a standing Floo meeting with the Auror Commissioner – your American counterpart. You would also meet regularly with the Head of the MLE."
"A position that still remains unfilled," Harry noted.
"You can take that up with Minister Shacklebolt," Siobhan replied.
"But ordinarily I answer to the Head of the Department?"
"Yes and no," Siobhan replied. "Personnel matters and Department-wide edicts sit with the Department Head, but otherwise, you answer only to the Minister."
"Operational matters?"
"Always your call," Siobhan replied. "But for some things you'd need the authorisation of the Committee for the Calamity and Occult Bale Response Act – which we just call COBRA," she explained, "or the Wizengamot's National Security and Intelligence Committee – which is usually referred to as NSIC. The Auror Commander has a standing position on both Committees."
"Question: when do I actually do some work?" Harry interjected, his head reeling with acronyms.
"You're too important to waste on the basic stuff, so I doubt you'll do much in the way of protection detail or regular investigative work with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That's the job of the rank and file."
"I joined the Auror Office to hunt down Dark Wizards," Harry protested.
"And you will do some of that, Harry," Siobhan replied. "But this position is so much more than what you did in Operation Wrath of Merlin. You lead this Office. The lives of everyone who is part of it are your responsibility. I want you to understand that," Siobhan said.
Harry nodded, suddenly feeling ashamed.
"I'm sorry, I guess I didn't know what quite to expect."
"I understand," Siobhan said, with a note of sympathy in her voice. "Hell of a thing Kingsley wants you to do. He's right, in many ways. The Office is broken. We need to become more efficient. We need to become stronger. You just saw earlier how few Aurors we actually have. Only about a third of our trainees would be normally accepted into the Auror ranks under ordinary circumstances, but the graduation rate is likely to be a lot higher with our current cohort."
"What happens to the rest?"
"They get good references for other positions within the MLE, or elsewhere," Siobhan explained. "Some actually reach the requirements needed to pass training, but won't choose to become Aurors. It's seen as a waste of three years by some, but the opportunity for further advancement is highly valued."
"I assume that everyone has specific assignments?"
"Yes. Proudfoot and Eamonn O'Hara are currently overseeing the Protection Details," Siobhan replied. "Savage is Head Trainer, looking after most of the trainee work, but we all spend time with them. I teach guerrilla warfare and counter-assault, for example. Stark and Hawke lead Investigations. They're after a group who've brought a bunch of cauldrons into the country."
"I assume that they're filled with something?" he asked.
"We reckon it's Living Death."
"Lovely. What do you do?" Harry asked.
"Well for now, Commander," Siobhan replied, "it looks like I'm looking after you."
Harry made his way back into Kingsley's office with a scowl darkening his features. An undersecretary took one look at him and disappeared.
"I just heard one of the Wizengamot Councillors ranting to a WWN reporter," Harry exclaimed. "Apparently they're trying to overrule my appointment. They're ordering a special vote! I thought you said I had public support!"
"You do," Kingsley replied.
"It's my first bloody day and they're already trying to get rid of me!" Harry exclaimed.
"So I hear," Kingsley said, entirely too calmly for Harry's liking.
There was a knock on the door, and another undersecretary poked his head in.
"They're about to bring the Wizengamot to session. Five minutes, Minister," the undersecretary said.
"Thank you," Kingsley replied. "Is the Press Corps there?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. That's all."
Kingsley turned back to Harry as the undersecretary left.
"Harry, this is the one I've been waiting for," he said with a grin. "We'll get the votes. I will make those bastards affirm you if it's the last thing I do. Shaw, Hopkirk, bloody Eveline O'Donnell – they can complain all they like, but you're keeping this office."
"Easy for you to say," Harry retorted. "You're not in any danger of going down in the history books as the shortest-serving Auror Commander ever."
"Please, Harry, when they put your name in the history books, I think they'll have more important things to write about you," Kingsley replied.
Another secretary entered.
"Sir, Councillor O'Donnell is on the radio."
With a flick of his wand, Kingsley tuned the wireless in his office and the voice of Wizengamot Councillor Eveline O'Donnell rang through the room.
"...I urge my fellow members of the Wizengamot to join me in rejecting this pretender to the Auror Office! Minister Kingsley shows both great nepotism and irresponsibility in appointing Harry Potter, who I might add is pending investigation for illegal activities in the covert Operation Wrath of Merlin, to the position of Auror Commander. This Wizengamot will not stand for it! I, personally believe that…"
Kingsley, making a sound of disgust, cut off the wireless.
"I'm going to go down and pummel some sense into them," he said to Harry. "Wanna watch?"
"Sure."
Kingsley led the way down to the Wizengamot Chamber.
"Now, I will speak in your defence – they're attacking my appointment of you, rather than you directly, so I have to convince them that the right choice was made."
"Was it?" Harry asked.
Kingsley stopped, and looked at the young wizard, his eyes betraying nothing of his thoughts.
"Yes."
Harry nodded.
"Besides," Kingsley added. "Magnus has something up his sleeve."
They continued, and then paused at the entrance to the Chamber.
"Magellan is presiding. Follow me in, and take a seat on the left. Follow my lead," instructed Kingsley.
"Follow your lead?" Harry questioned, but Kingsley had already begun to enter.
"Councillors, please rise for the Minister for Magic!" said Percy Weasley, the Permanent Secretary to the Wizengamot.
The members of the Wizengamot stood in unison as Kingsley, robes flowing, strode into the Chamber. Harry followed, and took a seat that an undersecretary guided him towards.
No sooner had Harry sat down when Chief Warlock Patricia Magellan began speaking.
"Minister, Council has been summoned to affirm your appointment of Mr Harry James Potter as the Auror Commander," Magellan said. "As is my right as Chief Warlock, I have determined that the matter is to be considered under urgency. We will now hear representative statements, and then vote. I therefore invite Senior Warlock Shaw to the floor to deliver the dissent."
Senior Warlock Shaw stood, casting a glare at Kingsley, and tapped his wand to his throat.
"Thank you, Chief Warlock," he said. "Today, assembled councillors, I represent the voice of significant opposition within this esteemed Council to the Ministerial appointment of Harry James Potter as the Auror Commander. A mere boy cannot run the Auror Office. A mere boy cannot keep us safe. A mere boy cannot possibly think that he will be supported in such a deluded endeavour."
"You have heard Councillor O'Donnell speak on the blatant favouritism the Minister has shown a close friend and ally – someone who supports the agenda of the Minister, someone who lacks an objective view as Commander," Shaw continued. "There is no denying that Harry Potter is very much one of the Minister's men!"
A chorus of agreement rang through the Chamber.
"Operation Wrath of Merlin was a grave misdemeanour, an unprecedented abuse of Ministerial power," Shaw concluded. "Are we to reward such behaviour by handing over more power, without question? Nay, I say! I vote nay! I request Council to overrule this appointment immediately."
"Minister Shacklebolt, the floor is yours," Percy said as Shaw returned to his seat.
"Let me ask you, Warlock Shaw, who would you have run the Auror Office?" Kingsley began. "Is the man who defeated Tom Riddle not good enough for you? Is the man who spent a year covertly fighting a war to bring remaining Death Eaters to justice not good enough for you? I wonder, in fact, whether Merlin himself would be of an acceptable standard, so high your requirements seem to be!"
A round of laughter passed through the Chamber, and he smirked.
"Harry Potter is no mere boy. He is one of the finest wizards of our time. And he is the right choice. Now, I believe a simple majority is all that is required to determine affirmation or rejection of my appointment. Chief Warlock Magellan asks the matter to be considered under urgency, and I agree. The position of Auror Commander has gone too long unfilled. Let the votes be cast!"
"Objection!"
A murmur of confusion ran around the Chamber.
The wizard who had stood was none other than Senior Warlock Magnus O'Brien – a close friend of Kingsley and one of the finest legal minds in Wizarding Britain.
"Councillor, what is the meaning of this?" Magellan asked.
Magnus spread his hands, and looked around the Chamber.
"I merely have a small objection," he replied placatingly. "It's a trivial matter, really."
Another round of laughter scattered through the Chamber. O'Brien's objections were rarely trivial.
"The Wizengamot recognises Senior Warlock O'Brien," Percy said, giving Magellan a nod.
"Go on, Councillor," the Chief Warlock said.
"The vote cannot be taken by this Chamber with fair consciousness until we formally welcome our brother to our ranks," Magnus said. "I am talking about, of course, Mr Potter."
The Senior Warlock turned to look directly at Harry, and winked.
"House Potter has sat on the Wizengamot for over three hundred years," Magnus added. "His is a Noble House, and thus holds a permanent seat."
"The Potter vote hasn't been exercised in twenty years!" said Shaw.
"Well, I daresay the fact that James Potter was murdered close to twenty years ago might have something to do with that, Warlock," Magnus replied, to laughter.
Magellan leant over to Percy, and the two had a brief conversation. Percy drew a large tome from underneath his desk, flicked through it, and pointed to a passage in the text. Magellan nodded, and Percy stood.
"Senior Warlock O'Brien is correct," Percy announced. "Harry Potter has a hereditary right to sit on the Wizengamot. His swearing in precedes all other business."
"So be it," Magellan said. Her face was an unreadable mask. It was impossible for Harry to tell whether or not the Chief Warlock approved.
"Harry Potter, please rise," the Chief Warlock said.
Harry did.
"Stand forth," she instructed him.
Harry walked into the middle of the Chamber.
"Your oath is magically binding," said Magellan. "Please repeat after me: I, Harry Potter, do swear that I will well and truly serve this Council of the Wizengamot and I will do so rightfully, in a manner just and in accordance with the magical law as laid down by the First Wizards."
Harry repeated Magellan's words.
"And do you swear to serve the magical peoples of Wizarding Britain, to lead and guide them, and from dissension, corruption, and darkness guard them so long as you draw breath?"
"I swear."
"Then in the name of Merlin, rise to the Wizengamot, Councillor Harry Potter."
Ginny flung the Quaffle with all her might at the left hoop.
"Too slow, Weasley!"
Gwenog flew over, motioning for her to land.
"Weasley, do you want to start this weekend?" she questioned.
"Of course!" Ginny replied.
"Prove it! Where's the Chaser that broke a scoring record in her last Hogwarts game?" her captain asked, launching back into the air as a Bludger approached.
There's a vast bloody difference between Hogwarts and the League, Gwenog.
Ginny bit back her retort and kicked back into the air.
After the training session, Ginny hit the showers. The scalding water cascaded over her and she let out a long sigh. Her body was already sore from training for a week. How would she feel after a month? Finishing up in the shower, she wrapped a towel around herself and headed to the dressing room, where a few of her teammates sat gathered around a wireless.
"Listen to this, Ginny. They're talking about your boyfriend," said one of her teammates, Tilly Clarke, with a teasing grin.
"He's not my boyfriend," she replied, before taking a seat and listening in.
"…in what is being described as masterful political manoeuvring, Minister Shacklebolt today successfully saw Harry Potter affirmed as the new Auror Commander, and managed to land a blow on the credibility of rival Senior Warlock Derrick Shaw. Tonight we have WWN Chief Political Correspondent Jessica Whitley, on the latest from inside the Chamber.
"To our listeners out there, let me describe how the Minister went about guaranteeing Harry Potter's appointment. Well, he had Harry Potter sworn in to the Wizengamot. Here's the moment:
"Then in the name of Merlin, rise to the Wizengamot, Councillor Harry Potter."
"At home, you may be wondering how Harry becoming a Wizengamot member would help his appointment to the Auror Office. Let me explain. Well, one of the unspoken rules, if you like, of the Wizengamot is that they never refuse the Ministerial appointments of fellow Councillors. In fact, the last time a Wizengamot Councillor was overruled to a Ministerial appointment was 1788. And with Harry Potter becoming one of their own, what was initially significant opposition to his appointment quickly disappeared, with only eleven Councillors voting against…"
"Your boyfriend's the Auror Commander and a Wizengamot Councillor," Clarke said. "Impressive."
Ginny scowled at her, but Clarke's grin only grew wider.
It was much later. The Auror Office was mostly empty now, as most had departed for the night.
"What do we have on Julius Creedy?" Harry asked Siobhan as he took a seat at her cubicle.
"Erm, just the Department file. I daresay you know everything we know already," she replied.
"I'd like to see it anyway."
"Are you going to go after him?
"He's a loose end," Harry replied. "We need to bring him in."
She nodded.
"I'll have someone bring it to you."
"Thanks."
Harry stood and made his way to his new office, where he turned the wireless on and began to idly flick through the channels.
"…they could do with some improvement to their defence. I just don't see how the Wasps can…"
"…the great Muggle Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, who…"
"…that was Warbeck's manager, announcing her new tour…"
"…you're on WWN Two with your host, Max Summers, and we've got our wand on the pulse of everything going on in the Wizarding World! Look, how was your Monday? Not too bad? Back into work? Not too different from mine, then, I suppose. But you know who had a GREAT Monday? The Boy-Who-Lived himself, Harry Potter!"
Harry paused in the motion of changing channel and sat down at his desk.
"My sources tell me that by ten o'clock this morning, Harry had been named as the new Auror Commander. Incredible! The youngest ever Auror Commander, who ever lived or will ever live. Sensational stuff! But barely hours into his job, Harry is besieged by his ultimate foe. No, I'm not talking about You-Know-Who, I'm referring to, of course, the Wizengamot."
The studio audience gave a roar of laughter as a clip of Shaw's dissent played through the wireless.
"Well, there's an unhappy Senior Warlock. So what is Harry to do? Well, he and the Minister march into the Wizengamot Chamber, and demands to be sworn in to the Wizengamot itself! He's fighting the good fight from within, folks! Such daring! Such…"
Knock knock.
Harry cut the wireless off.
"Come in!"
A nervous-looking Auror trainee entered and handed him a folder.
"Sir, from Auror O'Reilly, the Department's file you requested on Julius Creedy."
"Thanks," Harry replied, taking it.
The trainee stammered a 'You're welcome' and hurriedly left.
As the blade Excalibur glinted in the magical light behind him, Harry opened the file and began to read.
A/N: A lot of exposition to get the ball rolling, but if you've read Wrath of Merlin then you'll know that the action will be coming fast and furious. Let me know what you think so far.