Harry Potter and all associated trademarks belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter Ten
Kingsley's statement took up the entire front page of next morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. Heather and Ron had woken early that morning to accompany Mr. Weasley into the Ministry for their first day of work. Both were on their second mug of strong tea trying to overcome the lingering effects of last night's party. Heather was thinking ruefully about the number of butterbeers she'd drank. Unlike other people she knew, she had not been blessed with a natural tolerance for alcohol. A loud screech broke the early morning quiet of the kitchen, announcing the arrival of the morning post owl. Heather fetched the paper, grunting in pain.
Unrolling it with thick fingers, the first thing she saw was a large photograph of her, Ron, and their escort passing by the Fountain of Magical Brethren. She ran an appraising eye over her picture, checking for the slightest flaw in her outfit choice. As the picture was in black and white, she couldn't judge the color choice, but her eyes found nothing else to be disappointed by. She had certainly looked worse in newspaper photographs. Under this picture was a large headline in thick black ink.
Potter, Weasley, and Granger honored by Minister
"The Ministry of Magic is pleased to announce today that Miss Heather Potter, Mister Ronald Weasley, and Miss Hermione Granger are to each be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class," announced Kingsley Shacklebolt, Interim Minister for Magic today, "in recognition for bravery, service, and overcoming impossible odds in the cause of freedom."
While little may be known of the exact whereabouts and deeds of these three remarkable teenagers over the last year, there can be no doubt that their actions were key to bringing down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his regime. Miss Potter, who until recently was known as Harry, herself was the witch to finish him off in a one-on-one duel just over a week ago at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We here at the Daily Prophet would like to add our heartfelt congratulations to those of the entire wizarding community.
"Kingsley must have leaned on them after all to get them to print such a glowing article," Heather thought as her eyes slid down the paper. Not only had the paper addressed her correctly, making only the slightest comment on her change, but it had also gone so far as to endorse her new identity. Her eyes began to read the next article on the page without thinking. Heather could feel her stomach turning in knots the further down she read, and it had nothing to do with last night's libations.
Ministry expands Auror Office
In an announcement earlier today, Interim Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt proclaimed his intentions of filling the many empty positions within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In the week since his appointment, Minister Shacklebolt, a former auror and self-proclaimed "War Hero," has not been afraid to wield the power of his new office with a heavy hand in what he calls a "Cleaning House' approach. Many Ministry employees who have been accused of supporting the regime of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named have been given the axe without any investigation to corroborate these accusations. "The general feeling," says one recently sacked employee, "Is that if you didn't risk you weren't part of Shacklebolt's private army then you are as good as a death eater in his eyes."
Minister Shacklebolt has been quick to purge those branches of the Ministry who would have the power and ability to supplant him if they chose to, most notably the Auror Office, of which he was recently a junior member. Official statements have described this action as being in the best interest of public safety to remove "corrupt elements." Already more than half of the Auror force has been dismissed or arrested, though the specific charges have yet to be released to the public. Unofficial sources among the Ministry have indicated that many of these dismissals were the result of petty grudges held by Shacklebolt during his tenure in the Auror Office. Others have pointed out that this decimation of our law enforcement has left the Ministry vulnerable to a second take over like that of just under a year ago. Now it would seem that our new Minister's plan was to create job openings for his selected friends and allies in order to prop up his own position.
Perhaps our new Minister is hearing the grumblings he's leaving in his wake, and looking to remain in office despite growing calls for his resignation? The list of newly recruited aurors, which was released today by the Minister's office, is crowded with members of the Order of the Phoenix, a quasi-terrorist group led by Shacklebolt himself, and Dumbledore's Army, a student trained group from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
In the past, acceptance to the Auror Office has been incredibly strict, with less than a dozen applicants taken on in the last decade. High test scores from school, coupled with intense examinations and training have set a high bar for those who we trust to safeguard our homes and families, a job whose importance is even more crucial now. Today however, the only merit for becoming one of these elite guardians is personal loyalty to Shacklebolt himself, rather than the Ministry or the Wizarding public. Slipped in amongst the other names on the list was that of Ronald Weasley, close friend of our young Mister Potter. To this reporter's surprise, Mister Potter's name was strangely absent, asking the next question of "Why?" Does Harry Potter not think that becoming an auror was worthy of his apparent talents? Or perhaps is it a case of not having confidence in our new Minister. Either way, it would appear that he is continuing in his delusion of being a witch, even going so far as to legally change his name with the Department of Administrative Registration yesterday, by permission of the Minister himself.
The new recruits are due to begin training today, and this reporter in particular will be keeping a close eye on their progress and, more importantly, where their loyalties lie.
"Well?" asked Mr. Weasley when Heather rolled the newspaper up and tossed it on the table.
She shrugged and returned to her now cold tea. "Bit of a mixed bag, really." She was almost certain who had written that second article. Its writer hadn't been named, but it bore all the hallmarks of Rita Skeeter's Quick Quotes Quill. "Someone tore Kingsley to shreds over the new aurors, and whoever they are still insists on calling me Harry, but it could have been a lot worse."
"Skeeter?" asked Mrs. Weasley.
Heather shrugged again. "Probably, but it isn't signed."
"Most likely the paper wants to distance itself from her without cutting her out entirely," said Mr. Weasley flipping to the second page of the newspaper.
Heather forced down a slice of toast, knowing that she'd need something in her stomach if she was going to get through today. She brushed the crumbs of her clothes, which had been carefully chosen the night before. She wasn't exactly sure what the official uniform for an auror was, or even if there was one. With the exception of Tonks and Kingsley, almost every auror she'd met so far had chosen a long black or brown trench coat over plain clothes. To that end, Heather had chosen a simple set of black robes and shoes that were practical and would allow her to move freely. Her hair had been pulled back into a tight bun reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, with the exception of enough hair to cover her scar, and she had only put on a light layer of makeup.
Ron was bubbling with excitement when they apparated to the Ministry twenty minutes later with Mr. Weasley and Proudfoot. Unlike the day before, the Atrium was filled with bleary eyed witches and wizards shuffling towards the banks of lifts. All along one side of the hall, Ministry employees stumbled out of fireplaces, causing Heather to wonder if they still had to climb into a toilet and flush themselves in. They followed this flow of humanity past the fountains, were Heather noticed a small coffee cart set up for the first time, and towards the security desk. At a nod from Proudfoot, they were once again waved past without having their wands inspected.
There were no empty lifts to take them up to Level One this morning. Heather stood amidst the other employees, wondering when someone would finally spot her and cause the mob to swarm in. To her surprise, and relief, no one did. It wasn't until they had boarded a lift and an older man accidentally trod on her foot that she was recognized.
"Oh, sorry," he said. She was pressed against the back wall, essentially separated from Proudfoot and the Weasleys by the other occupants, and trying not to feel claustrophobic. "Wait a second…" the man said after doing a double take.
"Yes, I'm Heather Potter," she whispered back, hoping no one else would overhear. "And if you don't mind, I'd prefer to keep a low profile." The wizard nodded and pointedly turned forward in the lift again.
As fate would have it though, Heather's chances of passing through unnoticed dropped to nothing when the lift arrived at Level Two. Ron, who was near the front of the lift, turned back to her and called loudly, "Bye Heather! See you in a bit!" Heather lowered her face, but the damage was done. Everyone turned to look at her. It felt like the lift would never reach the next level. How she had ended up riding in a lift with a large number of Level One employees, she didn't understand. At last, the grills opened again, and Heather could make a break for freedom.
The squeaky voiced witch in Kingsley's outer office jumped to her feet when Heather entered. "Miss Potter, were you scheduled to see the Minister today?" Heather saw her send both of her subordinates hurried, accusatory looks as though to ascertain if they had known and not told her.
"Err, well not exactly." Heather said, "He told me to come by when I had an answer for him."
"Oh, very well then. If you'd have a seat then, I will let him know you're hear."
Heather sat herself down in one of the comfortable armchairs and watched as a memo flew off the secretaires desk and into Kingsley's office through another concealed passageway. She tried to stay calm, thinking that aurors were supposed to be cool under pressure. Try as she might however, she couldn't entirely stop her leg from bouncing with nerves. The door to the Minister's office slid open, and Kingsley appeared, quickly closing it behind him. "I'm sorry," he said in greeting to Heather, "I don't have long to talk. I have a delegation of extremely important goblins in there and they're a testy bunch. They didn't' like me excusing myself."
"That's alright," said Heather quietly, "I just wanted you to know that I'm accepting your offer to join the Aurors. If you'll still take me, that is.
Kingsley's face, which until now looked as vexed and tired as Heather might expect of someone negotiating with goblins, broke out in a genuine smile. "Heather," he said grabbing her hand, "That is fantastic news. We are very pleased to have you. I wish I had more time to talk, but…"
"Goblins, I understand." Said Heather, nodding quickly. "Should I report to the Auror Office now?"
"Right, yes. Proudfoot can take you there. Speak to Gawain Robards, tell him I sent you." Kingsley turned back to his office before adding on, "Oh, and come see me before you leave today, please."
"Yes, Minister," Heather said with a grin. Now that she was a Ministry employee, it was probably best to address Kingsley in a more formal manner, even if it did make her mouth feel a bit odd.
The journey to Level Two felt much longer than it had before. Every step felt like it took minutes. She was aware that Proudfoot was talking to her, but it sounded far away and indistinct. Her head was pounding, and she wondered again if this was a mistake. Still, the choice was made and she was going to see it through.
"Level Two," said the cool voice as the grilles opened. Heather almost jumped out of her shoes. She didn't remember boarding the lift. "Come on," grunted Proudfoot as they made their way through the maze of cubicles. Inside several of them Heather saw aurors dictating to quills or reading reports. No one looked up as they passed. In the distance she could hear a large group of people talking, but it was impossible to pick out what was being said. Proudfoot stopped outside a door with a large brass plaque that read Head Auror. He knocked on the doorframe and stuck his head inside.
"Boss, got another recruit out here for you."
From inside the office came a long, exasperated sigh. "Let me guess," said a man's voice, "another one of Shacklebolt's new hotheads?" A chair scraped on the wooden floor and Heather heard heavy footfalls. "Merlin's beard, they survive one scrape and now everyone thinks they have what it takes to-" Gawain Robards stopped talking the instant his eyes found Heather's face. They did the usual double take from her eyes to her scar, and then back again. He was almost as tall as Ron, with a muscular frame under a set of forest green robes. His face was lined and tired looking, and Heather recognized an air of malnutrition, something she was very familiar with.
"Potter?" he grunted in question.
"Yes, sir. You must be Gawain Robards?" she asked even though she already knew the answer.
He nodded while still looking closely at her face. What was he searching for, Heather wondered. "Right," he said after a moment. "Head down that hall and find the rest of the recruits. Down the corridor to your left."
"Yes, sir." Heather said again, turning and following his directions. Behind her, she heard Robards say in an exasperated voice, "Dammit Jack, you can't warn a man?"
The sound of voices started becoming clearer as Heather walked down the corridor. In what looked like a breakroom complete with chairs, tables, and a small kitchenette, she found a sea of familiar faces. At the sight of her, everyone sprang to their feet. Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Lee Jordan, Padma Patil, and Katie Bell, amongst others, swarmed forward to greet her. Behind them, keeping their distance for the moment, was Sturgis Podmore, Hestia Jones, Ron, and a dark haired girl that Heather thought she recognized.
"Alright there, Heather?" asked Neville, beaming at her.
"Blimey," said Seamus after running his eyes up and down her, "Lookin' good, Potter."
"Bugger off, Seamus," said Katie with a roll of her eyes. "Leave the girl alone."
Heather pushed through to the center of the room where Ron was still sitting, one of the few people that hadn't gotten up when she walked in. He was grinning from ear to ear. From the looks of it he had been the center of attention before Heather's arrival. "Everything go alright?" he asked. Heather nodded. "He wants me to come by before I leave today."
"So, Potter," said Seamus, sitting backwards in a chair and staring at her, "can you tell us what you've been up to? Ron hasn't said a word."
"That's right. He hasn't and if he knows what's good for him, he never will," said a stern voice from behind Seamus. They all looked and saw Gawain Robards standing there with over a dozen other aurors, including Proudfoot and Honeywell, Heather saw. "As far as you are concerned that's classified, Finnegan. Potter, Weasley, that order comes directly from the Minister's office. Understood?" When they both nodded, he continued. "Right, well, Welcome to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. As you all should know by now my name is Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office. What that means is from here on out, I own you. Morning, noon, and night. Minister Shacklebolt might think you lot have what it takes to become aurors, but it's my job to make sure he's right. If we lived in peaceful times, I doubt that three of you would be able to make it through training. Unfortunately, we are still at war. I need each of you in the field as quickly as possible. To that end, starting today you will each be assigned a mentor who will instruct you on protocol, as well as get you ready for what you will face out there. They will be responsible for your training and your conduct."
He stopped speaking and met the eye of each recruit. Heather felt as though he were challenging each of them individually. "I want to make this perfectly clear," he said, his gaze lingering on Heather longer than anyone else in the room, "I know you all fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, some of you have been fighting for years. You have all faced incredible dangers, risked death, and done great things for the entire Wizarding world. From this moment on, none of that means a damn thing. Consider that your job application Every single one of you," again his eyes found Heather's, "is equal in my eyes. You're going to have to earn everything you are given from here on out. Do your jobs, come back alive. Anyone who wants out, there's the door."
No one moved. Robards grunted and removed a roll of parchment from his pocket. "Right, Finnegan, you're with Savage. Patil, with Williamson, Proudfoot, you get Weasley, Greengrass, you're with Moore." He continued to read, pairing up each new recruit with their mentor. At the end of the list, he said, "Potter, you're assigned to Honeywell." The blonde woman beamed at Heather. Robards saw this and growled, crumpling up the parchment and shoving it back into his pocket.
"Each of you," he pointed at the recruits, "has a mountain of paperwork to fill out, as well as magical and physical training you need to complete before you can go out into the field. We've slimmed down the training as much as possible, but let me make this absolutely clear, if you can't hack it, you're done. Get to work." He strode away, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
One by one, mentors found their trainees. Some of them took seats in the breakroom next to their mentees, while others were led away towards cubicles. Honeywell grabbed Heather by the arm and pulled her down the hall. She had been given the same cubicle Kingsley had occupied on Heather's first visit to the Ministry years ago. It would seem she wasn't the decorating sort, having left most of the walls bare. Crammed into the small space was a desk, two chairs, and a small folding table covered in parchment at least a foot high. Resting on top of this were two items, a bundle of thin leather straps and a small silver badge with fine lettering carved into its front.
Heather Potter
Auror Trainee
"Forget the paperwork for right now and grab that," Honeywell said, pointing at the strange device. She led Heather back past the breakroom, where a few pairs were still chatting, and down a side corridor. On their left was a long window looking into what looked like a combination gymnasium and training room. Past this, on either side of the corridor, were two doors. The one on the right was marked Men, and the door opposite Women. Honeywell pushed open the women's door and gestured Heather inside. "Get changed. Meet me in the training room with your wand in ten minutes."
Inside was a rectangular locker room with showers at the far end. Heather thought it looked like the changing tent outside the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts, and smelled much like her old dormitory had, namely a mixture of stale sweat and old socks. Halfway down the wall of lockers, Heather found hers and pulled it open, revealing a pile of workout style clothes, a water bottle, a headband, and a towel. She extracted the pile and looked around for a stall to change in. There wasn't one, even the shower was communal with only short curtains that could be pulled across. As quickly as she could, she started changing.
She was down to almost her skin and was pulling a sports bra on over her head when the door opened, and Katie Bell walked in. Heather froze instantly. Katie didn't notice but began stripping down herself. "Relax, Heather." Katie said as she pulled her shirt off, "It's not like I haven't seen you without a shirt before." Her cheeks beet red, Heather quickly finished changing, grabbed her wand and the brown leather thing, and exited the locker room.
"Find everything?" asked Honeywell without looking up. She was bent completely forward, touching the tips of her fingers to her toes.
"Yeah," said Heather, "how'd this stuff get here?" She was dressed in a pair of black pants made out of a fabric that clung tightly to her body and stopped about mid-calf under a maroon tank top that stretched easily as she moved. In fact, nothing she was wearing felt like it was there at all and provided no resistance to any movement she made. If she didn't actually see the clothes on her body, she might have thought she was naked. In fact, looking at herself in the long mirror that ran the length of one wall, there was no evidence of her boyhood sticking out in front of her.
"That was me," Honeywell said, straightening up. "You're welcome."
"How'd you know I'd need it?" It must have taken some time for Honeywell to gather these items up for her after all. She began following the auror through a series of stretches, making her muscles ache in that pleasant way you only feel with stretching.
"Wasn't that hard to figure out. As if you could rest knowing that Death Eaters were still out there." Honeywell said simply.
"And these?" Heather asked, gesturing towards her front.
"Simple charm," Honeywell shrugged.
When they were done warming up, Honeywell grabbed the leather apparatus and showed Heather how to strap it to her right forearm. Once her wand was inserted into it, Heather could draw it with a flick of the wrist. "Standard DMLE issue," Honeywell said, showing off hers to Heather. The thing felt strange on Heather's arm and she continued fidgeting with it, trying to situate it comfortably. "Don't worry, it just takes time to get used to it." Honeywell said with a grin.
Heather continued adjusting the holster as Honeywell walked away casually. She was retightening the buckle when she caught the barest flicker out of the corner of her vision. Reacting purely on instinct, Heather flicker her wrist, releasing her wand and bringing it up into position. "Protego!" she roared. Honeywell's stunning spell glanced off her shield, impacting high on the wall behind the auror. Heather noted without looking that there was no damage to the wall, the room must be protected against spells.
"Good, Potter," Honeywell said with a feral grin, "You haven't lost your reflexes. For the next twenty minutes you can use any spell you want to take me out, short of the unforgivable. May the best witch win."
Spells, jinxes, and hexes flew from both wands as they started to probe each other's defenses. It was amazing to Heather to learn just how out of shape she'd become. A week of doing little physical activity, coupled with Mrs. Weasley's insistence that she have multiple servings at each meal, had dulled Heather's fighting edge. Her breath felt heavy in her chest and her arms quickly became sore. For ten minutes she was kept on the defensive, holding the older witch back but only just. Honeywell on the other hand seemed to have no limit. Her feet were constantly in motion, and more than half of Heather's spells missed completely as the older woman dodged around them. She dived to the left, getting just past the edge of Heather's shield, and caught her with a jelly-legs jinx a few moments later.
"You know," taunted Honeywell as Heather tottered around the room trying to remember the counter-curse, "I thought the 'Savior of the Wizarding World' was going to actually be a challenge." Heather didn't have to look to see the glee on her face.
By the end of her first day, Heather ached in ways she hadn't realized were possible. Not even the worst of Oliver Wood's quidditch practices could hold a candle to auror training with Shelly Honeywell, and this was only the first day. After lunch they had set to work on the pile of paperwork, which was just as bad as it had been to change Heather's name. It didn't help that she had landed awkwardly on her wrist during dueling practice, which made each stroke of her quill painful.
When it was time to leave for the day, Heather joined the rest of the recruits on the way to the lifts. None of them spoke, and several of them had cuts or bruises they were nursing. Honeywell was grinning widely as Heather walked past her. "Did the woman have to seem so chipper?" Heather thought bitterly. It wasn't until she reached the bank of lifts that she remembered Kingsley asking her to drop by before leaving. Groaning and cursing, Heather watched her friends slip out of sight towards the Atrium while she waited for another lift. It was some relief to find Kingsley in much better spirits than he had been that morning.
"You're lucky. I had Moody training me. I couldn't walk for a month." He said in sympathy to her groans of pain.
"That's about how I feel," Heather said, collapsing into one of Kingsley's armchairs and massaging a pain in her right leg. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard Hermione saying something about not being 'ladylike,' and she promptly told the voice to shut up.
"I'd say it only gets better from here, but I'd be lying." Kingsley replied. "Tomorrow morning is going to be hell."
Heather grunted.
"I need to ask something of you, but I want to give you as much heads up as I can." Said Kingsley carefully.
"What is it?" asked Heather hesitantly.
"When Hermione gets back from Australia, the Ministry will be holding a ceremony to commemorate the Battle of Hogwarts and everyone who we lost there. Along with that, we will be presenting you, Ron, and Hermione, with your Orders of Merlin."
Heather groaned again and hung her head. Why couldn't they just put the damned thing in the mail?
Kingsley smiled when she asked this. "I know, I know. But it's got to be done publicly. I'm sorry."
"And what is this thing you need me to do?" asked Heather even though she thought she knew where this was going.
"You will be expected to give a speech. I would like you to make some mention of your change. It doesn't have to be much, just something. The papers aren't going to let it go until you do."
"When?" she asked, not even bothering to hide her exhaustion.
"That'll depend on Hermione. We can't do it until she comes back."
"Fine." Heather said. She couldn't decide if she wanted Hermione to come home soon so that they could get this over with; or stay away for a very, very long time.