Harry Potter and all associated trademarks are the property of JK Rowling. I'm just messing around with them.

Chapter Nine

Time seemed to have stopped. Heather and Ron were both staring at Kingsley, their mouths wide in shock and surprise. The clock on the office mantle clicked loudly in the silence. No one spoke for close to a minute. When she tried to form words, Heather found that her throat had swollen shut and her mouth was incredibly dry. Beside her, Ron was also trying to force words out. "You're joking," he managed.

"I'm not, Ron," Kingsley replied evenly. "You have both proven time and time again that you are more than capable of being aurors. Beyond that, you are both extremely trustworthy, which is a quality that is extremely scarce today."

Heather felt her mouth unclench as her brain kicked into hear. "You…you can't just be approaching us, are you?" Two new aurors, even two as famous as she and Ron, would hardly tip the balance. If she could just get her head to stop spinning she might be able to figure all of this out.

Kingsley summoned a roll of parchment from his desk with a wave of his hand. "You're correct. I've made this offer to any of age witch or wizard who fought alongside us at the Battle of Hogwarts. Several members of the Order and Dumbledore's Army have already agreed."

"Can we ask who?" asked Heather, eyeing the parchment warily. Kingsley handed it to her and she read the almost dozen names. Several popped out at her instantly, including Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, Padma Patil, and Hestia Jones.

Ron, who had read the list over her shoulder, said, "Done. Sign me up." He looked over at Heather when she didn't instantly agree as well. "Heather?"

Her head was still swimming. All of this was happening much to fast. "I know this is a big ask," said Kingsley over her thoughts. "I know you've been asked by the person in this office to work for the Ministry before as a glorified poster child. This isn't that." His words did little to subdue the whirling storm in her head. Being an auror was the only career she had ever considered pursuing. For three years the only dream she'd dared to have, beyond outliving Voldemort, had been to join the ranks of those elite witches and wizards and protect the world from darkness. Now here it was, offered freely and sooner than she'd ever believed possible. Why wasn't she jumping at the chance?

The words "I'm in" had formed in her mouth when she stopped cold. Her eyes had found the large golden letter M above Kingsley's desk. The Minister, the Ministry, even the aurors themselves had made the last years of her life a veritable hell. How long had she despised this place even while wanting to join it. The idea of becoming part of the institution that had done those horrible things to her was a hard one to swallow. She trusted Kingsley to do everything he could to set the Ministry on the right course, but just how much could he really do to change this place? And what if he became to enamored with power and turned into another Fudge. Even worse, he could go the other way and wage war on the people he was supposed to protect to preserve his image.

"Heather?" Kingsley asked.

She blinked several times in rapid succession. How long had she been sitting here in silence? "Yeah?" she asked dumbly.

"What do you say?"

"I think it makes sense to ask us," Heather said to forestall giving an answer. She pointed at the roll of parchment now sitting on the table between them. "Getting heroes of the war publicly on your side will go a long way to shoring up support, not only for the Ministry itself but also for you personally. Add Ron and I to that list and you can practically guarantee that you'll be confirmed as Minister." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ron shoot her a curious look, but she ignored him. Pieces were starting to fall into place the more she spoke. All she had to do was keep working at it.

Kingsley's face betrayed no insult at her words. "You are correct. There are several reasons, many of them political, for recruiting you both to become aurors. That being said, this is one of those rare times when the right thing to do is also the political thing to do. I meant what I said. I need experienced, capable wands to continue the struggle we've been fighting for three years. Only once it's done can we bring real peace to the world."

"Sounds good to me," interjected Ron, still giving Heather that strange look. "Besides, isn't that what we've always wanted to do?"

"Mmm," replied Heather noncommittally.

"So, is that a yes?" asked Kingsley.

Heather's eyes bored into his, looking for what she didn't entirely know. She quieted the voice in her mind that was screaming for her to accept the offer on the spot. "Can I have some time to think about it?" she temporized. "It's a big decision."

"Of course," Kingsley said evenly, but Heather detected a trace of disappointment in his voice. "Well then, there are one a few things left for us to discuss. Heather, I would like to make it clear to you that regardless of whether you choose to join the Ministry or not, arrangements can be made for you to legally correct your name and gender if you wish to do so."

"Really?" Heather asked, taken completely aback. How had she not been expecting Kingsley to mention or ask about the only thing it seemed everyone wanted to know about her right now? The puzzle that had been forming in her mind was blasted away at this prospect.

"Of course," Kingsley said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "If you'd like I can arrange it before you leave the Ministry today."

"Absolutely!" she cried, almost leaping from her seat.

"Excellent, that makes this last item much easier." Kingsley said.

"What do you mean?" asked Ron. Heather could feel the elation ebbing away. If this was the last thing Kingsley had to discuss with them, it would probably be the least enjoyable.

"I mean, that once you both are safely back at the Burrow and away from reporters, my office will be issuing a statement to the press concerning your Orders of Merlin. It would be helpful for us, as well as for you Heather, if we were able to publish it using the name you intend to use from here on out. This will give official endorsement to your change, and hopefully do much to pressure the rest of the wizarding press to do the same."

"So? Then they won't be able to call me Harry anymore?"

Kingsley shook his head. "Unfortunately no. They are still legally able to call you anything they want. But from the moment your name is changed, every official statement regarding you can identify you as Heather. My hope is that this will go a long way to getting the public to follow suit."

"You must have read the Prophet yesterday," said Heather.

Kingsley rubbed his eyes. "I did. I wish I could tell you that I was able to force Rita Skeeter to stop, but I can at least try and take away her teeth. A statement from you would also be a step in that direction, especially before the public's very short memory takes hold."

"I'll think about it." Heather said.

Kingsley stood; the meeting was over. He escorted them back through the outer office, shaking their hands once more. "Ron, if you'd please report to the Auror Office tomorrow morning at eight o'clock with the rest of the new recruits. Welcome to the Ministry. Heather, I'd appreciate you letting me know your answer as soon as possible. And" he said before turning away, "thank you both again, for everything." He laid a hand on each of their shoulders before returning to his office.

Before they left, the squeaky haired witch behind the central desk asked if Heather wanted to make an appointment with the Department for Administrative Registration. Her eager "Yes, please!" was hardly out of her mouth when a purple paper airplane zoomed through a disguised slot in the wall and out of the office. She and Ron waited for what felt like a very long ten minutes, during which Heather noted for the first time that their meeting with Kingsley had lasted for more than two hours. Whether because the memo came from the Minister's Office or because it concerned with 'Harry' Potter, the response was positive.

"They'd be happy to see you in two hours' time," said the witch, reading from the scrap of parchment. "It will take them some time to gather the appropriate forms."

"Wanna go visit dad?" asked Ron.

"Sure," Heather replied. Anything would be better than sitting here for two hours be stared at by secretaries, and it didn't make sense to go back to the Burrow for so short a time. The thought of having to pass that mob of reporters more than once more today didn't seem appealing.

Ron practically strutted out through the doors into the corridor beyond and towards the lifts. When he had announced to Proudfoot and Honeywell that he would be joining the aurors they had both congratulated him heartily. Heather's, more reserved, statement that she hadn't made up her mind yet was met by less enthusiastic responses. Proudfoot shook his head, not in disappointment, more so confusion, while Honeywell simply shrugged. Ron spent their entire walk towards Mr. Weasley's office bombarding them with questions about what she should expect tomorrow.

The Department for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office was located on Level Two. Under the previous regime, most of the emergency departments set up by Scrimgeour to combat the death eaters had been done away with, and Kingsley had not reestablished them, partly due to a severe lack of manpower. Rather than remain in his job with the DMLE, Mr. Weasley had returned to his old one. That wasn't to say that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office was the same two man broom cupboard that it had been the last time Heather had visited. During the war, muggle baiting, and worse, had become something of a sport amongst pure bloods and half bloods who were looking to fit in with the death eaters. This meant that the muggle markets across Britain had been flooded with cursed and dark objects that unwary muggles had purchased and taken home. Mr. Weasley now led a small team of young witches and wizards, his old partner Perkins having retired two years ago.

Heather's first impression of Mr. Weasley's new office was that he had recreated the Burrow's garage at work. Four large worktables had been pushed together in the center of a large room, forming one gigantic space, on which was piled every sort of muggle object imaginable. At the far end of the room, straining under its own mountain of debris, was a fifth desk that had to belong to Mr. Weasley.

"Ron, Heather!" shouted Mr. Weasley excitedly when he saw them enter. Proudfoot and Honeywell had remained outside, which was a good thing in Heather's opinion. Not only were the tables covered in junk, but against every wall were other odd piles of random items. It was quite overwhelming to look at.

Mr. Weasley and one of his subordinates were attempting to pry open a heavy looking metal safe that was growling like a bulldog. Both wizards' faces were covered in sweat, it seemed the safe was putting up quite a fight. With grunts of effort, they were finally able to get the door to swing completely open, revealing many rows of teeth. Heather was strongly reminded of the biting book Hagrid has assigned them as a textbook for their third year. While Mr. Weasley held the door in place, his assistant grabbed a thick length of chain from the table and secured it around the door and through a thick ring in the desk. Once satisfied that it wasn't going anywhere, they both stepped back and let out long sighs of relief.

"What's going on?" asked Ron, approaching the bench warily. The safe was panting too but seemed to have lost the energy to fight back for the moment.

"Come and see," Mr. Weasley waved them both over. "This one's particularly nasty. If you put in the combination, it opens like it's supposed to, but the moment you try to get something out of it, it snaps closed on you."

"Ouch" said Heather.

"Quite. And it seems as though whoever charmed it put something on the teeth that prevents wounds from healing properly. We already have three muggles in St. Mungo's with punctures. They were lucky not to lose a limb or two. Take a break, Edgerton," he said to the young man who was leaning heavily on the table.

"Now, what brings you by? How did your meeting go?" Mr. Weasley continued once they were alone. Over the renewed growls and exertions of the restrained safe, Ron explained. At the news that his youngest son was now an auror, Mr. Weasley pulled him into a bear hug. "Ron! That's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "We'll have to tell your mother! And, what about you Heather?"

"Err, I'm not sure…" she began, but was spared having to voice her doubts presently by the return of Edgerton.

"Ready to get back to it, boss?" the blonde wizard asked before realizing he was walking in on a private conversation.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said to cover the awkward moment. "We'll discuss this later, Heather." He rolled up the sleeves of his wand and approached the worktable again.

Heather and Ron watched in silence as both wizards began tracing their wands over the safe with no apparent effect. Whatever charms had been placed on it seemed very difficult to remove. Little to no progress appeared to have been made by the time Heather had to leave for her appointment.

"It alright if I stay here?" asked Ron who had no interest in watching her fill out paperwork.

"Yeah, of course." The Department for Administrative Registration was only two corridors over after all so this hopefully wouldn't take too long.

Her knock was greeted with a chipper, "Enter!" She stepped through the door into the office and for a moment thought she had entered a massive library. Past a tall counter, behind which sat two elderly witches, were rows upon rows of desks taking up most of the room's floor space. Memos, file folders, and books flew back and forth from desk to desk or landing on shelves and tall stacks. It was very mesmerizing to watch.

"Can we help you?" asked one of the witches politely.

"Err, yes." Heather tore her eyes away from the mass of flying objects and approached the counter. "My name is Heather Potter, the Minister's office set up an appointment for me."

The witch to her left slid a pair of thick spectacles up her nose and began running her finger down a list. Heather watched her lips move, silently reading out each name as her finger slid further and further down the page. "No dearie," she said when she had reached the bottom, "I'm sorry but we don't have you down."

Heather felt crestfallen. What could have happened in the last two hours? Surely Kingsley wouldn't have changed his position? It was then that the witch noticed the faint outline of the scar on Heather's forehead. She jumped a little on her stool. "Oh, Harry Potter! Of course! Yes, yes we do have you on our list."

The witch clambered down from her stool and waddled away up the aisle. Heather grimaced at her old name being used, but after all that was why she was here. She saw the witch was returning now with a younger woman, relatively speaking, in tow. She had a kind face. "Miss Potter?" she asked when she reached the counter.

"Yes?" Heather answered hesitantly.

"Sorry about the mix up," the witch said. With one hand she swung the center piece of the counter up on its hinge, and gestured Heather through the gap with the other. "My name is Madam Stapleton. I'm head of this department. If you'd please come with me."

Madam Stapleton weaved her way through the office with a practiced grace that Heather had to admire. Twice she got smacked in the head by some flying object, which did little to improve her currently mood. At the back of the room, Madam Stapleton held open the door to a small room that turned out to be her personal office. "I'd like to apologize for Gladys," she said as they both sat on opposite sides of a cluttered desk. "I told her to expect you to use your new name when you came in, but she's getting on in years." In the center of the desk was a thick folder with "H. Potter" stamped in gold on the cover. Inside were more than a dozen long and complicated looking forms.

"I know it looks intimidating," said the older witch with a small chuckle, "but don't worry. It'll take less than an hour."

"And after we're done, I won't be Harry Potter anymore?" asked Heather.

"Correct. As far as the Ministry will be concerned it will as though Harry Potter never existed. Have you decided on your full name?

"Err, Heather Potter?"

"And your middle name?"

Heather blinked several times. How, in the many years since she had chosen to become a girl and chosen her name, had she never thought about her middle name? James, her dad's name, was certainly close to her, but would it really fit with Heather? She supposed she could use her mum's name, but when it just didn't sound right when she said it in her mind. She knew most of her friend's middle names had belonged to family members too, but beyond her parents she had never learned the names of her other relations, and she was certainly not going to use her aunt's name.

She could feel Madam Stapleton's patient smile on her while she racked her brains for inspiration. Why was it her brain could only think up the names of girl's she knew? Cho, Ginny, Lavender, Susan, and Hannah were all discarded in turn for many reasons. For a moment she considered Tonks or Dora, but the thought of using either of those hurt too much. Her memories flashed further back then they had in a long time. The face of a red haired girl who had attended the same primary school as Heather emerged. Her name had been Eliza, most likely named Elizabeth for the Queen. During that short period of Heather's childhood when she had wanted to be pretty like a girl, Eliza had always been the girl she wanted to look like, and this was before Heather had known her mother was a ginger as well. In her head, she saw the name Eliza slide in. She whispered it aloud. It felt right.

"Heather Eliza Potter," she said loud enough for Madam Stapleton to hear it. It was like her holly and phoenix wand was choosing her all over again. A warmth she couldn't identify swept across her heart.

"Very pretty," said Madam Stapleton with another kind smile. She pointed a bony finger at the first line of the topmost form and handed Heather a quill.

By the time they were halfway through the folder, Heather's hand was cramping badly. Over and over again she had written her new name, her old name, checked this box, initialed that line, and not once did the reason behind any of these actions register clearly in her mind. Madam Stapleton did her best to explain, but it was no use. The monotony of paperwork was acting on Heather's mind like a double History of Magic lesson.

"How many times has this happened?" she asked while massaging her hand between forms.

"It's quite rare. In fact, I've never had to use these forms before," replied Madam Stapleton.

With a last signature using her new name, it was finally done. Madam Stapleton took the quill from Heather's shaking fingers and closed the folder. It glowed with a bright golden light before returning to its former appearance. "There you are, dear," she said. "You're all done. You are officially Heather Eliza Potter."

"Do I need to update my name at Gringotts and such?" Heather asked.

"Not at all. That's all been taken care of. That glow means that your name has just been changed on every official document which it appears on, including your birth certificate and Hogwarts records.

"Brilliant." Heather said. Without realizing it she whispered, "Harry Potter just died again."

"Pardon?" asked Madam Stapleton, a flash of concern crossing her face.

"Err, nothing. Sorry, not sure where that came from." Why had she said that aloud, and where had that thought come from in the first place? She didn't have time to worry about that now, filing it away to ponder later on. Madam Stapleton was moving towards the office door and Heather was more than ready to leave.

"Congratulations, Miss Potter," Madam Stapleton said as held open the counter's swing door for Heather.

Out in the corridor, Heather practically skipped back to Mr. Weasley's office to collect Ron. She couldn't put into words the joy she felt inside at this moment. Nothing could puncture her happiness. That errant statement was forgotten for the moment, shoved to the very back of her mind.

"What's got you so happy?" asked Ron amusedly as she pranced into the office.

"It's done!" she squealed in excitement, throwing her arms around Ron's neck. His body went rigid instantly, and she rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Ron was just such a boy about being hugged. Try as she might to get him to realize that she was a girl, he was still so locked into seeing her as the boy she used to be. She didn't hold it against him, after all he had come so far from how he'd used to be, but still, she wished he'd just get over it.

"That's great!" Ron said, perfunctorily squeezing her back. Over his shoulder Heather saw the rest of Mr. Weasley's team, who had arrived in her absence, sending quizzical glances their way.

After another quick hug from Mr. Weasley, who took great pride in introducing her to his coworkers as Heather Potter, she and Ron left for the Burrow. She felt like nothing could bring her down right now, not even reporters. Not even the smirking face of Rita Skeeter made an impact on Heather's happiness. She stared straight back into the malicious face and flashed her a bright smile. "Let the little woman write her filth," she thought to herself.

Mrs. Weasley's reaction to her son's career choice was less enthusiastic than her husband's had been. "But…aren't you going back to school?" She asked when Ron announced it to the kitchen at large.

"Why would I?" Ron replied, looking crestfallen at her obvious lack of excitement. "All I've wanted was to be an auror. What do I need school for?"

Mrs. Weasley looked caught between two very different answers. After a moment she settled on one. "Well, of course you don't," she said gently. She hugged him, but Heather saw her face over his shoulder. Because of the direction Mrs. Weasley was facing, Heather was the only occupant of the room to see her disappointment, and it vanished the moment she released Ron. "This calls for a party," she said, managing to put on an air of excitement. "Merlin knows we could use something to celebrate around here."

George had grabbed Ron with an arm around his neck and was proceeding to knuckle his head. "Didn't I always say you were my favorite little brother?"

"You mean when you used to make fun of me during quidditch practice?" grunted Ron in pain, doing his best to pull out of George's grip.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," said George, releasing him and putting on an air of shocked confusion.

"Right," Ron said, straightening up and punching him in the arm.

Heather was grateful that everyone was focused on Ron right now instead of her. It was good to see him get some attention and praise, even though Mrs. Weasley's face fell just a little every time she thought no one was looking. Ginny was the first to ask Heather if she had joined up as well. Heather made a few noncommittal noises before changing the subject to her name change. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were ecstatic, and George immediately grasped her hand and began planting kisses on it again.

"Alright, get off!" she laughed in good humor. "I said, get off!" she cried when George refused to let go. She wrenched back her hand and made a show of wiping it off on her robes.

"Why?" asked George with a glimmer in his eye, "want me to kiss you somewhere else?"

"I'd rather kiss a troll." Heather shot back.

"What's the difference?" Ginny asked.

Laughter filled the kitchen. George resumed his air of pained heartbreak, but everyone ignored him. He was quickly sent to Shell Cottage to let everyone there know about the party.

Heather went up to her bedroom to change out of Ginny's clothes. She pulled on a sports bra, t-shirt, and a pair of jeans so worn out they fit wonderfully. She laid the beautiful outfit on her bed so that it wouldn't wrinkle and then slid quietly back downstairs. Ron and his mother were talking loudly in the sitting room with Ginny, about what Heather didn't stop to hear. She skirted the room, and made it out into the garden before anyone saw her, or so she thought. She needed to think, to try and finally put together the puzzle that had been forming in her mind since Kingsley had made his offer. Snatching Fred's broom from the shed, she climbed the hill to the paddock.

Her mind felt like it was clearer when she kicked off. Here in the early afternoon warmth, she could enjoy that from now on she was Heather Potter legally. Finally, after so many years, it was really coming true. To celebrate, she put herself through several loops and dives, relishing the freedom of being in the air.

She didn't notice that she had been followed, or that someone had also mounted a broom and taken off, not until he appeared out of nowhere on her left.

"Want to tell me what's eating at you?" Ron asked. Heather reacted instantly, dodging a collision at the last moment.

"Oy!"

"Sorry," Ron said. On his face was the same strange look he'd been sending her way in Kingsley's office. If Heather had to put words to it, she would have to call it confused incredulity.

"No, I don't really want to talk about it," Heather replied to his original statement. The glow inside her had faded now, leaving resentment at being intruded on. Much as she had wanted Proudfoot to leave her alone last night, so too did she want Ron to go away. To this end, she pulled her broomstick into a steep climb and zoomed away from him.

"Come on, Heather!" he shouted over the wind in her ears, "Talk to me!"

At the top of her climb, she had been intending to roll into a dive before breaking left in the hopes of throwing off his pursuit, but she braked hard instead. "Why does everyone want me to talk?" she called back. "Why are my feeling so important that everyone needs to know about them every single second of every day? First Hermione, then Ginny, Proudfoot, and now you?"

"Proudfoot?" asked Ron who was slowly moving up to her level.

"Doesn't matter," Heather said, waiving away his question with a flip of her hand, "My point is, I was perfectly happy just now, not worrying about a thing. And now, here you are wanting me to talk."

Ron drifted to a stop. "Heather, c'mon. I just want to know why you aren't signing up too?"

Heather shook her head. He hadn't heard a word she had said. A scream bubbled up inside of her along with a desire to tear Ron's head off. Why couldn't she get ten seconds alone anymore? Rather than wasting her energy screaming, she channeled it into action. Faster than Ron could react rolled over in the air until the nose of her broom was pointed at the ground. Just before she impacted the solid earth, she pulled back and rocketed away. When she heard Ron right behind her, she threw herself into a corkscrewing turn before ending up on a completely different heading. Deep inside, she knew that as annoyed as she was with him for interrupting her private moment, she was mostly avoiding his question because she didn't have an answer.

"Nice try, but you won't get rid of me that easily!" cried Ron with a laugh.

Heather decided to put that to the test. She knew that her broomstick couldn't outfly his, but there was little doubt that she was the better flier of the two. She used every trick in her extensive book of maneuvers, and had she been on an even slightly newer broom, Ron would never have been able to keep up. As it was, she had to resign the contest ten minutes later. To her gratification, Ron was sweating profusely and very red in the face. Better broom or not, she hadn't made it easy on him.

"Y-you ready to talk now?" he asked through heavy panting while he leaned on the handle.

"I don't have an answer," she said, breathing hard herself.

"W-what do you mean?" asked Ron.

"I mean," Heather said a little impatiently, "I can't tell you why I didn't say yes, because I don't know."

"But…it's what you've always wanted…" Ron said.

"I know," replied Heather. How many times had she told herself that today? So why hadn't she said yes?

She leaned forward on her broom and sped forwards, but it wasn't to escape this time. Thinking was always easier when she was moving. Ron must have sensed this because he didn't pursue. He just watched quietly while she orbited him like some wayward moon.

"You're right," Heather said as she drifted back over to him some time later. "I have always wanted to be an auror."

"So? What's stopping you then?" he asked.

"I-I think I've spent so much time thinking about defeating Voldemort, that I never really made any plans for what I'd do after that. It's the same with becoming a girl. Before last weekend I'd never given any real thought into just what doing that would be like. Everything was blocked out by the fate I'd been handed."

"Makes sense, mate," Ron said, nodding. "But, what are you gonna do if you don't join up? Go back to school?"

"Maybe, like I said, I haven't really thought about it yet." Heather shrugged and drifted away again. This time Ron kept pace.

"C'mon, Heather. This is what you've always wanted. Now we both get to be aurors together! D'you really want to go back to lessons and study sessions with Hermione?" The way he said Hermione's name felt off.

"What's wrong with Hermione?" Heather asked curiously. Was there something going on between her two best friends again that she didn't know about?

"What? Oh, no nothing. It's just…she can be a bit much when it comes to reviewing." Ron finished. Heather knew that wasn't what he had been meaning to say, but let it drop. She had enough on her mind already. "So, are you going to join up?" Ron asked by way of changing the subject.

Heather sighed. It wasn't like she had any other plans or ideas, and it would hardly do to quit fighting now while everything was still so uncertain. So many had already given so much, it did feel almost disloyal to abandon the cause. "Yeah," she said wearily, "I probably will."

"Yes!" said Ron, clapping her on the back in midair. "I knew you'd come around."

Now that the decision was made, it was easier to look forward to it with optimism. Heather allowed herself to brush aside the puzzle, knowing that if things were to not feel right down the road, she could always quit. She and Ron continued doing laps around the paddock, and Heather could feel his excitement beginning to infect her. It felt as though tomorrow morning couldn't come quickly enough.