Perhaps it was because he'd only known the inside of Grimmauld Place for such a mind-numbing length of time, but the outside world seemed just that little bit brighter for Harry. Even a building as imposing as the Ministry of Magic was positively inviting, though Harry was sure he'd have been grateful to come see anything new. Besides Snape's house, which was surely a nightmarish creation designed to ensnare and imprison unwitting children.

Sirius was walking him down the street, refusing to let him travel on his own for obvious reasons. They were going via a different route than the one he and Matthew had used prior to their fourth year. It was strange what innocuous things could make Harry think about his friend, his grief acting in precisely the manner his godfather had described. This time around, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself, worried that showing any signs of sadness would prevent the new lessons from taking place.

Albeit, he could only keep so much to himself. His sheer bewilderment at their destination was plain to see as Sirius led him into what was evidently a public bathroom. The older man didn't explain anything, taking the strangeness for granted. The only source of comfort was the fact that there were plenty of other people, mainly men in fancy suits, occupying the space, which suggested that Sirius hadn't completely lost his mind. Though he still queued up as if it was a perfectly normal thing to be doing when they had an appointment to make.

"Um…Sirius?" Harry began tentatively, not wanting to sound like an idiot for not having a clue as to what was going on.

"Yes, Harry?"

"What are we doing?"

"We're…going to the Ministry. I thought we'd established this."

"I know that but…where's the phone box?"

"Phone box?"

"Yeah. I used that last time to get in."

"I've never come across a phone box before."

"Matthew said that it was the Muggle entrance."

"Well, that explains it, doesn't it? You're not a Muggle. I'm not a Muggle. So we're using the wizarding entrance. Or, at least, one of them."

"And the wizarding entrance is…in a toilet cubicle?"

"Precisely. Now you're getting the hang of it."

"Isn't that a little weird?"

"Incredibly so, yes."

At least Sirius could acknowledge that. There were plenty of wizards who couldn't understand the bewilderment that came with an outside view.

"All you have to do is step inside and…well…flush yourself. That's the succinct way of putting it."

The queue was moving steadily, far too quick for a flustered Boy-Who-Lived, until he was next in line. He hesitated for a moment outside the door as if he was worried about walking in on someone with their pants down. It'd at least make a nice article for the Prophet. The Boy Who Peeps would likely be the headline. But Sirius was walking calmly into his cubicle next to him, which prompted Harry into action. Along with the not-too-gentle nudge of the impatient worker behind him.

And he was met with the sight of a toilet, which probably shouldn't have been as surprising as it was. It was thankfully unoccupied, but that didn't make Harry feel much better about the proposition. Starting to think that this was some elaborate prank by the old Marauder, he tentatively clambered onto the porcelain, staring down at the water below. He'd just be able to get his feet in the bowl; how the rest of him was going to fit, it was difficult to tell.

Sirius poked his head over the divider. "It's best to hold your nose if it's your first time."
There was a distinctive flushing noise after that and, with the same impatient worker now knocking on the door to make him get a move on, Harry knew that he couldn't dawdle for much longer. There was no sign of Lupin about to jump out, telling him in the nick of time that he was being wound up. So, grimacing all the while, he stepped down into the toilet, questioned every life decision that had brought him to that point, and pulled down on the lever.

Sirius was a grateful sight on the other end, on hand to keep Harry steady after the nauseating experience. It felt like he'd been stretched and pulled in every direction, which meant it was a relief to find that his limbs were still in their normal proportions. It was also a nice bonus to find that he wasn't drenched from head to foot, despite the fact that he'd evidently travelled across London's sewage network. All Harry knew was that he was never going to do it again. It would have to be the phone box again next time.

Or apparition, if things went well.

"You'd think arriving at the Ministry would be more glamorous," Harry commented bitterly.

"I get the sense that it's a way of ensuring all these officials remain down to Earth," Sirius argued. "You can't exactly be high and mighty when your day starts with a trip through the toilet."

"I've met my fair share of Ministry workers. It hasn't worked."

"That's a good point, actually."

"Harry!"

He would have recognised that voice anywhere. He would definitely have recognised the blur of wild brown hair once it was charging towards him, soon ensconcing his senses. Having been deprived of her company for a number of weeks, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the hug Hermione was giving him, giving just as good as he got. He may have been surprised by the kiss she left on his cheek as she pulled away, but he couldn't exactly blame her for the show of affection. His presence was obviously something people didn't want to miss out on.

He was, however, made to feel slightly awkward and nervous by the fact that his friend was joined by her parents. They hovered in the background, allowing the young pair to have their sweet reunion. Harry could no longer focus on how nice it was to be with Hermione again, given that the last time he'd seen Katherine and Peter, they'd been berating them for their ill-conceived escape plot from Hogwarts. He didn't really want to go through a round two.

"I almost thought you would have forgotten me by now," Harry quipped.

She hit him playfully on the arm. "Don't be ridiculous. Being forced to spend time away from you isn't going to be enough to make me stop endlessly worrying about you."

"I've been in my room for these past weeks! What trouble could I have gotten into? What was there to worry about?"

"As if you actually believe that. You have the knack for attracting trouble even if you're sitting still."

"This might be some sort of record - the longest I've gone without things falling apart."

"Maybe you should be grounded more often."

Harry's face fell. "...no…I don't think I want to experience that again anytime soon."

She gave him a sad look. "How have things been?"

"Not brilliant. But that was kind of the point, wasn't it?"

Biting the bullet, he walked slightly away from Hermione to face her parents. Peter had never been the most outgoing of people, so his standoffish nature didn't come as a surprise. But Katherine's hesitance spoke volumes. So often in the past, she'd initiated hugs without needing any sort of excuse, very much like her daughter tended to do. Now, she looked as if she didn't know what to do, appearing almost as embarrassed and awkward as Harry was feeling.

"I…I wanted to apologise," he began. "Again. Because I don't think I did that properly after you found us in Diagon Alley. I…I shouldn't have put Hermione in that position." He held up a hand, preventing the girl's outburst before it began. "And I know that she'll say that it was her own choice, but she was only there because of me. I'm the one who's brought her into this world of dark magic, and I often wish that I hadn't done that."

He cast his gaze towards the floor. "But then I remember that I wouldn't have survived nearly as long if I hadn't had Hermione by my side, and I'm grateful for her support every time I wake up and every time I go to sleep. I don't want her to be by my side when we're facing these dangerous tasks, but I need her there all the same. Which is why I'm so grateful that you've allowed her to come today, no matter what you must be feeling towards me."

There was a brief period of silence in which the others seemed to contemplate his words. It might have appeared like a strangely impassioned speech for a boy his age to make, but Harry had been rehearsing the defence ever since he'd discovered Hermione was tagging along to the apparition lessons. Even so, saying it into a mirror and saying it in front of his friend's parents were completely different kettles of fish, which explained why his heart was racing more than ever.

Until Katherine's face softened. "I really appreciate you saying that, Harry."

"Yes, me too," Peter begrudgingly agreed.

"We've come to terms with Hermione having an element of danger in her life, as difficult as that has been. But that acceptance is for when danger finds you, not the other way around. That's why we were so angry. Because you both sought out trouble this time around, when there are plenty of adults who could have provided a modicum of safety. Myself and Peter…we can't provide that level of protection, and it breaks our hearts to know that, which is why we're relying on the two of you to use the safeguards that are there."

"I understand," Harry said quietly, feeling suitably rebuked.

"But…as appalled as we might have been, it's frustratingly difficult to be angry at such a dashing, young man."

"Mum," Hermione complained. "I think Harry has been through enough torture recently."

"Is that so? I'm sure Sirius would gladly accept it as another form of punishment, to properly teach Harry a lesson."

His godfather laughed. "Judging from the redness of his face, it's already working."

"How much moping has Harry got through recently?"

"He was just like every moody teenager up and down the country. And I couldn't be more relieved. He's done enough premature growing up. It was about time he took a few steps back."

"You should have seen Hermione. She'd stare endlessly at the photo at the side of her bed, the one of the three of them together."

The girl's face was perfectly beetroot now. "Mother! There's no need to be telling Harry about any of this!"

"Are you considering running off again to fight dark artefacts?"

"...no."

"Then my work here is done. As a parent, it's my god given right to embarrass you, and I've barely had any opportunities to do so over the years. I'm simply making up for lost time."

"I could join if you want to," Peter suggested.

Hermione whimpered ever so slightly. "I thought I was here to learn a new skill. Not to be subjected to something that should be classed as one of the Unforgivables."

"If it's any comfort, I have the same photo in my room," Harry said, wondering if that would save his friend.

"Were you sighing at it wistfully every thirty seconds?" Katherine wondered.

"Um…" He looked at Hermione. "...would it help if I said yes?"

"I wish I could have learnt the art of apparition before today, just so that I could escape this torment," she remarked bitterly.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Sirius said.

"A smart move," Peter concurred. "It's a dangerous place to be in when you're standing between my daughter and new information."

Harry frowned. "You're not coming with us?"

Sirius shook his head. "Sadly not. Until the Ministry changes its regulations, Muggles can't get through security. We're pushing our luck having them in the atrium as it is. I'm going to treat them to a spot of lunch."

Katherine waved a hand. "There's really no need…"

"Nonsense. You should see the Black family vaults at Gringotts. There's too much gold to make use of, and most of it is cursed, so I'd much rather get rid of it."

"As long as you're not actually taking us to Gringotts. I don't think I can go through the journey on the cart again."

Sirius smirked, starting to lead them away. "Harry, we'll meet you here once the session is done. If you need to contact me at any point, then you know how to do it. The room you're looking for is on the fourth floor, number 7812. Ask for Mercer if you get lost. And please…try to keep a low profile."

They watched as the three adults walked towards the exit, with Harry hoping that Sirius wasn't about to make the Grangers experience the same transport route. He'd only just improved their moves after the way the school year had ended - the last thing he needed was for them to go headfirst into a toilet. Then again, if you were approaching it in that direction, you were probably doing it the wrong way.

"I'm sorry about them," Hermione whimpered, giving him a soft nudge with her shoulder.

"There's no need to apologise, 'Mione. The fact they're willing to talk to me at all is a pleasant surprise."

"I think they've got some pent up energy, seeing as they've been watching me like a hawk recently. You were the unfortunate recipient of that being unloaded at long last."

"I've had to put up with Sirius and Remus as my only source of entertainment. Trust me, any sort of teasing your parents can come up with won't compare to what they have up their sleeves. They're Marauders for a reason."

"Go on then…are you going to tell me your new way of keeping in touch with Sirius? Unless he's started carrying around a phone. The only wizard I've ever known to use one of those is Matthew, and he wasn't exactly the typical example."

Harry reached into his pocket, his hand coming against the smooth edge of glass he'd been expecting. Otherwise it would have been a rather disconcerting experience. Once it was held in front of her, Hermione viewed the object with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism. After all, it looked like nothing more than a shard from a broken window, though the pair had come to learn that looks could be deceiving in the magical world.

"He gave me this for my birthday."

"That reminds me, your presents are at home. I meant to bring them with me but…" Her cheeks pinkened once again. "...I may have got distracted by just how excited I was to get out of the house and learn something."

Harry smirked. "I'd expect nothing less from you, 'Mione. You don't need to get me anything. Being with you again is more than enough to make my birthday special."

She raised her eyebrows. "Have you spent the past few weeks learning how to be smooth? Have you been getting lessons from Sirius?"

"He'd like to think that he's smooth, but he's just as much of a bumbling wreck as I am."

"Is that why he gave you a broken bit of glass? Did he have an accident?"

"This is a two-way mirror. I suppose it's a lot like a phone, in that you can basically call someone wherever you are, as long as they've got its partner. You can then see the other person's face in the glass. I think this is his none-too-subtle way of reminding me that there's no excuse for me keeping him in the loop."

"In case we happen to wander again."

"Because, as much as I promised your parents we wouldn't, there's every chance we'll end up doing it again. Probably without even meaning to."

Hermione held out her arm. "Well then, Mister Potter. Care to wander with me to room 7812?"

He happily linked his arm with hers. "It's a good job you're here, Miss Granger. Because I'd already forgotten which room we were supposed to be visiting."

xxxxxxxxxx

"Ah, bang on time! Punctuality is a quality that will hold you in good stead, particularly in the art of apparition!"

Harry might have expected a bit more from their location, especially given the grandiose nature of the rest of the Ministry. The room he and Hermione found themselves in was surprisingly large, but completely barren of any flourishings. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that was probably a good thing. If you were popping from one spot to another, you didn't want to inadvertently land on something awkward or suddenly have a chair leg as part of your anatomy.

He was pleasantly relieved by the fact they'd found the room with little fuss. Thanks to his past experiences, even the haphazard elevator wasn't enough to disorientate him, no matter which direction it fired them in. The man who greeted them, the aforementioned Mister Mercer, had the look of a Ministry official. He was an unassuming sort, a man of a subtly advanced age with the hairline to prove it. But he smiled at their arrival and didn't stare at Harry's scar, which was a vast improvement compared to the people he tended to deal with.

"Now, I'm well aware that this class has been arranged under special circumstances," Mister Mercer continued, allowing them to get as comfortable as an empty classroom could allow them. "Which is why we're keeping it all very hush hush. But when the great Albus Dumbledore pulls the strings, the Ministry is willing to let a few rules slide. Especially when it concerns you, Mister Potter. The Minister was more than happy to lend my services to help you in the coming fight. Not that I'm supposed to be talking about that."

"Um…send Minister Fudge my thanks for his support," Harry said.

He felt it was the right tactic to be diplomatic towards Fudge, even though he wasn't in the room. The Minister of Magic might not have been Harry's favourite person, but he'd been repeatedly told that the politician was a good ally to have onboard. And, up to that point, he'd proved that point, particularly in the wake of Voldemort's return. Harry could only imagine how needlessly difficult things would have been if the Ministry and the media had denied the Dark Lord's return.

Hermione gave him an appraising look, which suggested that he'd done the right thing.

"I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear that," Mercer replied. "But we're not here to talk politics, are we? You're wanting to learn a vital skill that every witch and wizard would do well to have in their arsenal."

"Yes, sir," Hermione quickly said.

It was rather adorable just how eager she was, practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"Now, the key to apparition is having a good imagination. You have to be able to envisage your destination as if it's right in front of you."

Harry didn't really know if an active imagination was one of his talents. It had never cropped up in the past. It wasn't as if Hogwarts operated a keen literature studies course. Now that he considered it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd read a book that wasn't non-fiction, which suggested the wizarding world needed to be a tad more creative. But, then again, how could fiction compare to the absurd reality of their world?

He wondered if Hermione had any books she could recommend.

"But that's almost the easy part, especially with what we're starting with," Mercer ploughed on. "The first task is moving no more than a few feet in front of you, which means there's very little imagination needed. No, the stumbling block for most people is the need to focus your mind. You have to hold your destination in your head with no other distractions. Otherwise you could force yourself into two places at once and, let me tell you, going through a splicing incident is no funny business. A lot of the young adults I've taught don't have the patience for apparition, which is why so many fail. But I obviously have higher expectations when it comes to the two of you!"

Harry and Hermione risked sharing a smirk. Not at Mercer's faint praise and substantial pressure. But at the fact that having a clear mind would serve them well. After years of training in that specific arena, they were perhaps more well suited to the task than anyone else who'd walked through those doors. Though Harry wasn't one to brag. It was just nice to know that that particular torment, which had come with a lot of complaining on his part, was going to have added benefits.

"We have the rest of the summer to hone your skills, but there's no time like the present!" Mercer complained, clapping his hands together. "Would one of you like to go first?"

On what was a startlingly rare occasion, Harry beat Hermione in the race to lift his hand up. His friend looked scandalised by the mere notion of him coming first, and he resisted the urge to stick out his tongue. Harry wasn't normally one to willingly put himself in the limelight but, having recently used his focused mind to destroy a horcrux, he felt that hopping from place to place was something he could excel at.

"It's good to see that you're both eager to try it out. Okay, Mister Potter. Take a nice step forward. That's it. I'm not going to ask a lot of you. All you're going to do is look at the far corner over there. You're going to stare at it until it hurts, and you're going to channel your magic into moving yourself there. Picture your magic flowing through you and imagine it reaching out to that very spot. I don't expect anything to remotely happen but it's good practice to…"

A soft pop signalled his departure and then, a second later, he was standing on the other side of the room. He gave a small wave to the other two people, not knowing whether to be celebratory or sheepish at how quickly it had happened. For what it was worth, Mercer was looking at him with his mouth partially agape, whilst Hermione (having recovered from being pipped at the post) whooped and applauded his success.

Even though it had been a short distance, the experience still hadn't been an enjoyable one. Harry had thought that it'd be more pleasant when he wasn't clinging onto Dumbledore's arm, when he was in control of the process. Apparently, there was no such luck. He could only hope that it'd get better the more he practised, instead of having to experience being pushed through a non-existent tube every time he considered apparating for fun.

Mercer puffed out his cheeks, still in disbelief. "This is going to be easier than I thought."

xxxxxxxxxx

Over the proceeding weeks, Harry and Hermione visited the Ministry frequently, tackling the sessions three days a week. Sirius and the Grangers refused to push them too hard, knowing that they still needed time to be teenagers (especially after the first part of their summer had been taken up with a prison sentence). And, with each session, the two of them would reach further distances, putting their previous training to good use.

Until Mercer believed that he couldn't teach them anything else, fast-tracking the already fast-tracked course. Less than a week before their return date to Hogwarts, the pair were facing an examination unlike the ones they were used to. And that, invariably, meant that Hermione descended into her pre-established routines whenever tests were involved. That was regardless of how strongly Harry reminded her that she'd aced the skill of apparition without barely breaking a sweat, making the final exam nothing more than a formality.

"That's easy for you to say," she grumbled after his latest attempts to calm her. "You've always been far superior when it comes to applying your magic on a practical level. I'm much more suited to theory."

"That's a load of nonsense," he argued, and he was pleased to see that she was taken aback by the annoyance in his tone. "Yes, you're brilliant at learning things, 'Mione. But you've also shown that no one should ever mess with you when you've got your wand in your hand."

"I…I won't be holding my wand when I apparate."

He set his mouth in a thin line. "Don't be difficult."

"It makes a change for me to be the one acting that way."

His smile was a begrudging one. "It makes it all the more unbelievable that you've managed to put up with me for so long."

"You have your moments. Like right now. You're being very sweet, when you should be focusing on preparing yourself for the exam."

"It's like you said - I'm amazing under pressure."

She hit him on the arm. "I don't remember using any of those words."

"It was implied."

Mercer cleared his throat pointedly, making it clear that he wanted to get the show on the road. Harry had the good grace to blush, having made the official wait. It wasn't the best way to keep him on their side, especially when he would be grading them. The pair straightened their backs and walked towards him, now used to the bland surroundings that the room had to offer. It would be a good thing to have an apparition licence, if just to get away from the monotony of the space.

"Right, you two," Mercer began, an eager gleam in his eyes. "Who wants to go first?"

"Harry does," Hermione squeaked, evidently losing some of her brief confidence.

"Is that so, Mister Potter?"

"Um…yeah," he replied, knowing he'd do anything to help Hermione feel more comfortable. "How…how does this work?"

"It's fairly simple, in truth. I've placed a yellow flag on the coast of Cornwall. The same spot you visited last Tuesday. There's an orange flag in Inverness by that delightful chippy you treated us to the Wednesday beforehand. And then a blue flag by Buckingham Palace."

"But…sir…I've never been to the palace."

"Precisely. The last section of the exam will test your imagination, your capability of picturing the location in your head and taking yourself there. It is, of course, the trickiest part of the exercise. But you've shown me that you're more than ready for the pressure. At every site, one of my fellow colleagues will be there to ensure that you've arrived in one piece."

"And…if I haven't?"

"Then they're there to rush you to St Mungo's. Although it's best not to think about that possibility. It could put you off, and that's the last thing you need."

"Okay." He took a steadying breath, abating those growing nerves.

"We're ready when you are, Mister Potter."

"Good luck, Harry!" Hermione cheered him on. "You'll smash it!"

He gave her one last smile before focusing his mind on the pebbly beach he was supposed to be heading for. He pictured the waves rolling in and the ice cream van placed strategically by the nearby car park. He could smell the saltiness in the air and hear the cries of excited children as they ran amok. With that image in his head, Harry pushed his magic towards it, twisting his body as he'd been taught to do. And he disappeared with the customary pop.

The sensation felt ever so slightly different, but Harry put that down to the stress of it being marked. His body would obviously react to his thunderous heartbeat. And so, when he fell down onto a patch of grass with his limbs still intact, he had to see that as a job well done. Except there were no waves and certainly no ice cream van. There was no salty air, nor were there any screaming kids. It was a field. An empty field, as if he'd accidentally transported himself to the Highlands he'd come to call home at Hogwarts.

"Excellent timing. Good form. You should be impressed."

Harry presumed, therefore, that he'd done everything right, seeing as the aforementioned Ministry official was applauding his efforts. Maybe it was just a different part of the Cornish coast. That had to be it. Then again, as he looked towards the official waiting for him, it was quickly apparent that he wasn't going to be that fortunate. It had nothing to do with the fact that the man wasn't wearing a Ministry uniform, instead sporting a black ensemble that appeared to consist mainly of leather. It didn't even have anything to do with the excited, hungry gleam in the man's eyes.

Harry was instantly terrified because he knew the man's face.

Barty Crouch Junior.

Thinking on his feet, Harry tried to move, tried to stand up, tried to reach for his wand. As soon as he did so, he was hit with a fizzing spell that locked his body in place, keeping him pressed uncomfortably against the grass. It wasn't Crouch who'd attacked him, instead a woman who appeared beside him. There was a crazed glint in her eyes and her hair was just as wild, but Harry couldn't claim to have met her before. That probably wasn't the worst of his concerns at the moment.

Crouch lowered himself so that he could look Harry dead in the eyes. "We know someone who's been desperate to see you again, Harry Potter."