Chapter 12- The Apprentice Aurors
May. 4th, 2009 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
coyotegothTITLE: The Apprentice Aurors
CHARACTERS: Harry; Percy; Neville; Angelina Johnson; Seamus; Dean; Tonks; Moody, etc.
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: none
FEEDBACK: welcomed
ARCHIVING: please ask
SUMMARY: While at the Ministry, Harry runs into Percy, and they discuss life during wartime. Later, Harry catches up with some of his friends from Hogwarts.
This is the latest chapter of my Harry Potter story; it contains Half-Blood Prince spoilers. (Please note that this series is not Deathly Hallows compliant in the least.)
Chapter 12- The Apprentice Aurors
Harry looked up; a portrait of Scrimgeour was watching intently as Stan Shunpike lectured about Ministry mailroom security procedures. Williamson stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“...p- packages come in there, see, only they’re shrunk, so’s we can transport ‘em easier,” Stan went on, repeatedly glancing up at the portrait. “The thing is, if they're mundane stuff, such as food shipments, we simply undoes the shrinking enchantment on them with a Dispel, and allocates them from there. Now, if they're some sort of enchanted..."
“Err, Stan,” Harry interjected, “I think I get the idea. Will you pardon me? I have to get ready for my next presentation.” Stan nodded gratefully, and walked off; Williamson started to follow him, until Harry caught his arm. “Will you show me to the next presentation?” Harry asked. “I think I’ve forgotten the way.”
*
The delegate approached Harry and shook his hand, as the group’s applause faded, and people began to leave. “A most effective speech, Mister Potter,” he said. “Although our government is restructuring at the moment, following Milosevic’s latest action, Minister Scrimgeour can count on our support.”
“Thank you, Mister Vice President of Magic,” Harry said automatically, shaking his hand. The wizard turned to leave; Harry started to follow suit- then stopped, as he saw a familiar shock of red hair. “Percy...?”
Percy stopped, and turned to look at him; several passers-by glanced in their direction. “Hello, Harry.”
“Err, have you seen Charlie?” Harry asked after a moment. “I thought he was escorting me home...”
Percy hesitated. “I just spoke with him; he’s with some- that is, I’ll arrange for...”
“That’s all right; I can do it.” There was an awkward pause. “How are you...?”
“I’m rather put out about the situation with Headmistress McGonagall, to be frank; she’s utterly refusing to...” Percy broke off, as if listening to himself. “Tired,” he finally said.
Harry blinked in surprise. “Yeah, me too.” They looked at each other silently for a moment.
“Harry- do you... well, do you have a moment?”
“Err- yeah.” Harry followed Percy down a corridor. Two Ministry workers were in a side room, talking; upon seeing Percy, they hastily excused themselves. A faint smile crossed Percy’s face. “Perhaps having a reputation can be useful after all,” he murmured. He closed the door, then turned to Harry. “The portrait of Scrimgeour in this room is out for repairs- we can talk here," he said. There was a pause. "Listen, Harry- I wanted to... to speak with you, about...”
“About your family?” Harry asked; Percy tensed.
“That wasn’t what I was going to- what I was thinking abou- oh, bollocks.”
Harry stared in surprise at this, as Percy took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Percy looked pale; bruises of exhaustion stood out clearly underneath his eyes. Percy saw Harry looking at him; the corner of Percy’s mouth quirked.
“I suppose you thought I was going to ask you about cauldron bottom thickness, or some such rot,” Percy finally said.
Harry snorted a surprised chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”
“That makes sense,” Percy murmured. “I only wish that that were...” He broke off, and shook his head. They stood in silence for several minutes. "How is she...?" Percy finally asked.
"She's doing better; she's on her feet again, and talking." Harry paused. "It would help her to see you."
Percy winced. "Charlie already-" He sighed. "I know; I will. I will. It's just- well, especially with things as they are with the Ministry, and with Father-"
Harry nodded. "Yeah," Harry said; he tried to think of something else to say.
"It's all right," Percy said. "I don't- there really isn't- oh, bollocks."
"That's the first time I've heard you swear," Harry said in surprise.
"Second," Percy corrected him automatically; then, he bent, and put a piece of crumpled paper into a wastebasket. "Terribly untidy, wars," Percy finally said, as he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose.
"Yeah," Harry said, unsure of how to respond.
"I mean," Percy went on, "very often, it's- well, it's difficult to know what to do. How to proceed. Often, you can think you're working for the greater good, and it's hard to know..." Percy turned, and looked at him. “Sometimes I feel as though this has all been a bad dream,” Percy finally said. “It's as though one moment, I was back in the Burrow, and the next- suddenly, I’ve woken up in the middle of a war, just like that, as though the world had turned upside down.”
“I know what you mean- it's like nothing makes any sense anymore,” said Harry. “Sometimes, I feel as though I’m going to wake up back in the Dursley’s closet, with Dudley pounding on the door.” He shook his head. “It’s still odd to me, realizing that I’m talking to a wizard.”
“Imagine what it’s like to be talking to Harry Potter...” Percy looked thoughtful. “I remember the celebration at the end of the First War, when we heard how you’d beaten Voldemort- Mother was upset at first because we woke up Ginny and Ron, but then Father pulled her into the middle of the kitchen floor, and they were dancing, and everyone was laughing... I didn’t understand about what had happened to your parents then, though.”
“Yeah.”
Percy’s head drooped. “That’s a hard thing- losing your family.” After a moment, he said, “At the time, I really thought that it was for the best. Scrimgeour and everyone- they all knew Voldemort had returned, but no one could say so in front of Fudge. I heard that Fudge actually threatened Barnabas Cuffe with Azkaban, if anything appeared about it in the Prophet, but the rest of them- most of them knew a war was coming. That’s one of the reasons Umbridge was put in at Hogwarts- to keep an eye on Dumbledore, and on you. They knew what was going to happen, and they told me- well, that was back when you were acting oddly; they were worried that Voldemort was controlling you somehow, or spying on you- through your scar, or some such.”
Harry nodded. “Is that why you sent Ron the letter?”
Percy flinched. “Yes. When I wrote that, Minister Scrimgeour- well, he wasn’t Minister then, but... he was standing there, suggesting what to say. It really did seem like the best idea; I knew Father would never give you up, and I’d hoped that with me estranged from the family, it might... might help draw attention away from the Burrow, me being up-and-coming at the Ministry- and now, being one of Scrimgeour's aides... it would be easy for Voldemort to strike at them through me. The letter, the jumper, the argument with Father... all of it was about that." He sighed. "Mother even came to see me once. That was hard."
“Yeah- I heard.”
“A lot of it was Scrimgeour, too- he was convincing me that I was a danger to the family, and that you’d wind up in St. Mungo’s, or some such. He... no. It wasn’t Scrimgeour- it was me. Between you acting as though you were going mad, and Dumbledore refusing to listen to- I mean, he missed Barty Crouch Jr., and Quirrell... at any rate, I really thought that the Ministry was the way to go. I thought that I could make a difference- make things better.
“It’s hard, Harry- it’s hard to know the right thing to do, in a situation like that. I know it doesn’t excuse my choices, but... I really did think that this was the right thing to do. Dumbledore- he was brilliant, and he did great things, but... he was, well, he was slipping. You can't afford to be wrong if you go off on your own like that, with no one else to tell you if you're off the track. I tried to explain that to father, but..." He shook his head. "I never thought I’d see father like that- so angry. He’s usually... well, the point is, he was always there for us. Even Bill, when he declined to go Ministry; they had an argument, but..." Percy shook his head. "Whenever I had a hard decision to make- one I was torn up about- he was the person I’d go to.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I wish I could go to him now.”
“Can’t you?”
Percy winced. “Between the argument, and Scrimgeour watching every move I make, and the silences when we run into each other... do you remember when he was bitten by the snake?”
Harry nodded; Percy continued, “I remember going to see him then- sneaking in after hours, so they wouldn’t see me. Seeing him lying there so frail, so... I was scared; I thought we were going to lose him. I still worry; I'm frightened that I may be drawing attention to him. To all of them.”
Harry glanced at the empty frame where Scrimgeour's portrait had hung; Percy followed his gaze, and silently nodded. “Harry- will you do me a favor?”
“What...?”
“Will you- well, Father’s been knocking on doors all over the Ministry, trying to find out about Bill, and- well, he’s attracting the wrong sort of attention to himself. I don’t think he’d heed my warning on this; will you...?”
“I’ll mention it to him, but...”
“Yes- Father would never give us up.”
Percy turned away for a moment; Harry paused, then asked, “Speaking of Bill, and things like that- do you know what’s happened with Fudge? He...”
Percy whirled around, eyes wide with terror; he clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth. “Don’t!” There was a pause, broken only by the sound of their breathing. “Harry- don’t ever say anything in front of me that you wouldn’t want Scrimgeour to know- especially anything to do with the Order, or... Scrimgeour Legilimenses his staff; I’ve taken Occlumency lessons, but- well, there was one chap, who tried to keep something from him. By the time Scrimgeour was finished... so was he.”
Harry nodded, to indicate that he understood. “I guess Father was right, after all,” Percy said miserably, as he removed his hand. “Now, I really am a Ministry spy.”
There was a silence, finally broken by a distant cracking noise. After a moment, Percy pulled himself together, and walked over to the door. “Come on, Harry- you should see this.”
*
They stood looking through a large window, overlooking a duelling stage. Two combatants walked on, drew their wands, and bowed to each other. Harry turned to Percy in puzzlement. "Why are we... bloody hell- that's Neville!"
Harry watched in astonishment as Neville let loose with a vicious attack, which drove his opponent back before him. Hexes and parries caused the room to light up in flashes; Neville pressed on ferociously, until a stray hex caught his leg; he winced, and dropped his wand. A medwizard rushed out to examine the wound; after a moment, Neville's wand was handed back to him.
"Neville's become one of the best duellists here- it's like he's obsessed," Percy said, as the magical combat resumed. "Minister Scrimgeour thinks he'll be ready for field combat soon."
"Field combat?" Harry said. "Don't you think..."
He was cut off by a loud cracking noise; Neville's opponent lay unconscious on the ground, his wand in pieces.
*
"...still not certain it's a good idea to have him..." Harry was saying.
"I know," Percy interjected, "but things are- well, you'll see." There was a pause.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked; Percy winced.
"I don't know," Percy said quietly.
Harry paused, then asked, "Do you still think the Ministry are right in how they're going about this?"
Percy looked around before responding in hushed tones. "I don't know; especially now, after the werewolves- I don't know. But with Dumbledore gone... well, they really are the main line of defense against Voldemort. If the Ministry weren't working to counter him, Voldemort might... I just..." He sighed; to Harry, he looked young, and vulnerable. For a moment, Harry thought of the third year final Quidditch victory against Slytherin, when Percy had jumped up and down like a maniac.
“I suppose... I suppose we all have to make difficult choices,” Percy finally said. Harry was about to answer, when movement caught his eye: in the corner of the room, his poster image was drawing his wand, and sending a horde of Dark creatures, including a werewolf, to flight. Percy followed his gaze; there was an awkward silence.
“Look,” Percy finally said, "you really couldn’t-"
“Thanks,” Harry said tightly. Percy paused, and then nodded. “Come this way,” he said. “There’s something else Minister Scrimgeour wanted you to see.”
*
They paused in front of a door. “In there,” Percy said. “Friends of yours, from Hogwarts.”
“Oh?”
“I miss Hogwarts,” Percy said quietly. “Things made sense there.” He lowered his voice further, and glanced up and down the corridor, before continuing, “I miss Professor Lupin. He was always kind to me.”
There was a pause, as Harry tried to decide how to respond; finally, Percy pulled the door open, and walked off down the corridor without a backward glance. Harry was looking after him, when a familiar voice called, “Harry!”
Harry turned, and saw Seamus, Dean, and several others of his friends from Hogwarts, all dressed in what looked like Auror’s robes. He forced a big smile, and exchanged greetings and jokes with them all.
“So,” he finally said, indicating the robes, "what is all-"
“Have a look at this!” said Seamus, as he and the others all pulled out Ministry badges. “We’re all now officially Apprentice Aurors, fighting in the war against Voldemort!”
“Fighting...?” Harry repeated, as they dragged him into a large gymnasium.
“Yeah, Harry,” said Terry Boot, “it’s going to be like Dumbledore’s Army all over again!”
The others cheered at this, as Dean interjected, “Only this time, the Ministry is on our side- no more of that Umbridge breathing down our necks!”
Harry glanced briefly at the room’s portrait of Scrimgeour, as the others laughed and exulted; suddenly, a strong hand grasped his shoulder, turning him around. “What...?”
He stared in surprise at the sight of Angelina Johnson; she was wearing a workout outfit, with a towel draped around her neck. “Well, well, Mister Big-Time Quidditch Captain,” she said, playfully thumping his shoulder. “What’s the matter- kneazle got your tongue?”
“No, I- it’s great to see you- you look-,” Harry fumbled for a response, as the others laughed, and Seamus dug him in the ribs. “He looks like he just saw a veela!” Seamus cackled.
“Shut it, Finnegan,” she snapped; Seamus immediately fell silent, as she grinned. “I love doing that,” she said.
“Wish I could,” Harry joked.
“Don’t worry- I’ll have this lot whipped into shape for you soon enough,” she replied. “Days, the Ministry has them studying Defense; evenings, they belong to me. Speaking of which,” she added, looking at the group, “you lot have laps to run- go get changed!”
She and Harry watched for a moment, as the others streamed out of the room. “Fighting in the battle against Voldemort...?” Harry finally asked.
“That’s right,” she said. “You know the situation- even with the ICW loaning us troops, we need everyone who can swing a wand. And anyway, how many times have you faced Voldemort...?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Besides,” she interjected with a grin, “if your pale arse can survive four goes, I figure I’m good for at least a dozen.”
Harry shook his head. “I know it sounds stupid, but- they’re all so young...”
“No time for them to get any older,” she replied. “All we can do is train them, and I’m doing that. Speaking of which,”- she poked him in the stomach- “you could use some gym time yourself, mister Chosen One.”
“Maybe next time,” Harry said; he paused in the doorway. “Have you seen Neville? I saw him earlier, but...”
Angelina pointed down a corridor. “He went that way- just got some hard news, so I let him out early.”
*
Harry spotted Neville waiting for the elevator; he ran up to him. “Hi,” he said, panting slightly.
Neville's head turned slightly to look at Harry, then faced straight ahead again. His wand hung loosely from one hand. “Hello,” Neville said quietly.
"Err- you were brilliant just now," Harry said. Neville did not respond; finally, Harry said, "I... I heard you got some bad news."
Neville's hand clenched; Harry saw the edge of a wrapper clenched in it. "My dad," Neville said quietly. "He stopped eating. I tried to help feed him, but there was no one else free; I had to keep up my Defense studies, and then..."
"I'm sorry," Harry said awkwardly.
"Don't be," Neville said, roughly shoving the wrapper into his pocket. The elevator doors opened; they stepped inside. "It's like gran says," Neville continued. "He died fighting Voldemort, just like..."
"Yeah."
They rode on in silence, until Neville said, "You know what I'd like?"
"What?"
"I'd like to see him. Voldemort. I don't care how scary he is; everyone's always been so terrified of this mysterious Dark Lord- I'd just like to see him, and know that he's just some bloke who went to Hogwarts, just like me. With detentions and all."
"And those lemon drops of Dumbledore's," Harry added; Neville smiled faintly.
"Yeah," Neville said. Then, as the elevator doors opened, his hand clenched around his wand. "I'd like to see him- then, I'd like to..."
"Harry!" Tonks called, rushing up to him. "You need to come back to the house with me, right now!"
Harry strained to look over his shoulder at Neville as Tonks dragged him outside- then, the door closed, and Neville was gone.
*
"...so bloody important?" Harry was saying, as they walked up to the house.
"It's two things, Harry: first, your regular Ministry duties have been suspended for the time being."
"What? Why?"
Tonks hesitated on the porch. "Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban."
Harry threw up his hands. "Really? That's great! What next- is Grindelwald waiting in the parlor?"
"You'd better see for yourself," she finally replied; she took out her wand, and traced a design on the door before pulling it open. As the front door closed behind them, she called out, "It's Harry and Tonks- we're alone."
"Good thing, too," Moody growled, as he pulled off an invisibility cloak, and Shacklebolt- whose robes were badly torn- Arthur, Ron, and Hermione appeared from Disillusionment Charms.
"Cover the windows," Moody said; his face was freshly bandaged, as was one arm. Shacklebolt tapped the windows with his wand; they grew dark. "Don't," Moody snapped, as Harry reached for his wand. "We have light enough for this."
With that, he pulled on a thick, black glove, reached into a pocket of his robes, and pulled out what was unmistakably the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.
CHARACTERS: Harry; Percy; Neville; Angelina Johnson; Seamus; Dean; Tonks; Moody, etc.
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: none
FEEDBACK: welcomed
ARCHIVING: please ask
SUMMARY: While at the Ministry, Harry runs into Percy, and they discuss life during wartime. Later, Harry catches up with some of his friends from Hogwarts.
This is the latest chapter of my Harry Potter story; it contains Half-Blood Prince spoilers. (Please note that this series is not Deathly Hallows compliant in the least.)
Chapter 12- The Apprentice Aurors
Harry looked up; a portrait of Scrimgeour was watching intently as Stan Shunpike lectured about Ministry mailroom security procedures. Williamson stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
“...p- packages come in there, see, only they’re shrunk, so’s we can transport ‘em easier,” Stan went on, repeatedly glancing up at the portrait. “The thing is, if they're mundane stuff, such as food shipments, we simply undoes the shrinking enchantment on them with a Dispel, and allocates them from there. Now, if they're some sort of enchanted..."
“Err, Stan,” Harry interjected, “I think I get the idea. Will you pardon me? I have to get ready for my next presentation.” Stan nodded gratefully, and walked off; Williamson started to follow him, until Harry caught his arm. “Will you show me to the next presentation?” Harry asked. “I think I’ve forgotten the way.”
The delegate approached Harry and shook his hand, as the group’s applause faded, and people began to leave. “A most effective speech, Mister Potter,” he said. “Although our government is restructuring at the moment, following Milosevic’s latest action, Minister Scrimgeour can count on our support.”
“Thank you, Mister Vice President of Magic,” Harry said automatically, shaking his hand. The wizard turned to leave; Harry started to follow suit- then stopped, as he saw a familiar shock of red hair. “Percy...?”
Percy stopped, and turned to look at him; several passers-by glanced in their direction. “Hello, Harry.”
“Err, have you seen Charlie?” Harry asked after a moment. “I thought he was escorting me home...”
Percy hesitated. “I just spoke with him; he’s with some- that is, I’ll arrange for...”
“That’s all right; I can do it.” There was an awkward pause. “How are you...?”
“I’m rather put out about the situation with Headmistress McGonagall, to be frank; she’s utterly refusing to...” Percy broke off, as if listening to himself. “Tired,” he finally said.
Harry blinked in surprise. “Yeah, me too.” They looked at each other silently for a moment.
“Harry- do you... well, do you have a moment?”
“Err- yeah.” Harry followed Percy down a corridor. Two Ministry workers were in a side room, talking; upon seeing Percy, they hastily excused themselves. A faint smile crossed Percy’s face. “Perhaps having a reputation can be useful after all,” he murmured. He closed the door, then turned to Harry. “The portrait of Scrimgeour in this room is out for repairs- we can talk here," he said. There was a pause. "Listen, Harry- I wanted to... to speak with you, about...”
“About your family?” Harry asked; Percy tensed.
“That wasn’t what I was going to- what I was thinking abou- oh, bollocks.”
Harry stared in surprise at this, as Percy took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. Percy looked pale; bruises of exhaustion stood out clearly underneath his eyes. Percy saw Harry looking at him; the corner of Percy’s mouth quirked.
“I suppose you thought I was going to ask you about cauldron bottom thickness, or some such rot,” Percy finally said.
Harry snorted a surprised chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”
“That makes sense,” Percy murmured. “I only wish that that were...” He broke off, and shook his head. They stood in silence for several minutes. "How is she...?" Percy finally asked.
"She's doing better; she's on her feet again, and talking." Harry paused. "It would help her to see you."
Percy winced. "Charlie already-" He sighed. "I know; I will. I will. It's just- well, especially with things as they are with the Ministry, and with Father-"
Harry nodded. "Yeah," Harry said; he tried to think of something else to say.
"It's all right," Percy said. "I don't- there really isn't- oh, bollocks."
"That's the first time I've heard you swear," Harry said in surprise.
"Second," Percy corrected him automatically; then, he bent, and put a piece of crumpled paper into a wastebasket. "Terribly untidy, wars," Percy finally said, as he pushed his glasses back up onto his nose.
"Yeah," Harry said, unsure of how to respond.
"I mean," Percy went on, "very often, it's- well, it's difficult to know what to do. How to proceed. Often, you can think you're working for the greater good, and it's hard to know..." Percy turned, and looked at him. “Sometimes I feel as though this has all been a bad dream,” Percy finally said. “It's as though one moment, I was back in the Burrow, and the next- suddenly, I’ve woken up in the middle of a war, just like that, as though the world had turned upside down.”
“I know what you mean- it's like nothing makes any sense anymore,” said Harry. “Sometimes, I feel as though I’m going to wake up back in the Dursley’s closet, with Dudley pounding on the door.” He shook his head. “It’s still odd to me, realizing that I’m talking to a wizard.”
“Imagine what it’s like to be talking to Harry Potter...” Percy looked thoughtful. “I remember the celebration at the end of the First War, when we heard how you’d beaten Voldemort- Mother was upset at first because we woke up Ginny and Ron, but then Father pulled her into the middle of the kitchen floor, and they were dancing, and everyone was laughing... I didn’t understand about what had happened to your parents then, though.”
“Yeah.”
Percy’s head drooped. “That’s a hard thing- losing your family.” After a moment, he said, “At the time, I really thought that it was for the best. Scrimgeour and everyone- they all knew Voldemort had returned, but no one could say so in front of Fudge. I heard that Fudge actually threatened Barnabas Cuffe with Azkaban, if anything appeared about it in the Prophet, but the rest of them- most of them knew a war was coming. That’s one of the reasons Umbridge was put in at Hogwarts- to keep an eye on Dumbledore, and on you. They knew what was going to happen, and they told me- well, that was back when you were acting oddly; they were worried that Voldemort was controlling you somehow, or spying on you- through your scar, or some such.”
Harry nodded. “Is that why you sent Ron the letter?”
Percy flinched. “Yes. When I wrote that, Minister Scrimgeour- well, he wasn’t Minister then, but... he was standing there, suggesting what to say. It really did seem like the best idea; I knew Father would never give you up, and I’d hoped that with me estranged from the family, it might... might help draw attention away from the Burrow, me being up-and-coming at the Ministry- and now, being one of Scrimgeour's aides... it would be easy for Voldemort to strike at them through me. The letter, the jumper, the argument with Father... all of it was about that." He sighed. "Mother even came to see me once. That was hard."
“Yeah- I heard.”
“A lot of it was Scrimgeour, too- he was convincing me that I was a danger to the family, and that you’d wind up in St. Mungo’s, or some such. He... no. It wasn’t Scrimgeour- it was me. Between you acting as though you were going mad, and Dumbledore refusing to listen to- I mean, he missed Barty Crouch Jr., and Quirrell... at any rate, I really thought that the Ministry was the way to go. I thought that I could make a difference- make things better.
“It’s hard, Harry- it’s hard to know the right thing to do, in a situation like that. I know it doesn’t excuse my choices, but... I really did think that this was the right thing to do. Dumbledore- he was brilliant, and he did great things, but... he was, well, he was slipping. You can't afford to be wrong if you go off on your own like that, with no one else to tell you if you're off the track. I tried to explain that to father, but..." He shook his head. "I never thought I’d see father like that- so angry. He’s usually... well, the point is, he was always there for us. Even Bill, when he declined to go Ministry; they had an argument, but..." Percy shook his head. "Whenever I had a hard decision to make- one I was torn up about- he was the person I’d go to.” He rubbed his eyes again. “I wish I could go to him now.”
“Can’t you?”
Percy winced. “Between the argument, and Scrimgeour watching every move I make, and the silences when we run into each other... do you remember when he was bitten by the snake?”
Harry nodded; Percy continued, “I remember going to see him then- sneaking in after hours, so they wouldn’t see me. Seeing him lying there so frail, so... I was scared; I thought we were going to lose him. I still worry; I'm frightened that I may be drawing attention to him. To all of them.”
Harry glanced at the empty frame where Scrimgeour's portrait had hung; Percy followed his gaze, and silently nodded. “Harry- will you do me a favor?”
“What...?”
“Will you- well, Father’s been knocking on doors all over the Ministry, trying to find out about Bill, and- well, he’s attracting the wrong sort of attention to himself. I don’t think he’d heed my warning on this; will you...?”
“I’ll mention it to him, but...”
“Yes- Father would never give us up.”
Percy turned away for a moment; Harry paused, then asked, “Speaking of Bill, and things like that- do you know what’s happened with Fudge? He...”
Percy whirled around, eyes wide with terror; he clapped a hand over Harry’s mouth. “Don’t!” There was a pause, broken only by the sound of their breathing. “Harry- don’t ever say anything in front of me that you wouldn’t want Scrimgeour to know- especially anything to do with the Order, or... Scrimgeour Legilimenses his staff; I’ve taken Occlumency lessons, but- well, there was one chap, who tried to keep something from him. By the time Scrimgeour was finished... so was he.”
Harry nodded, to indicate that he understood. “I guess Father was right, after all,” Percy said miserably, as he removed his hand. “Now, I really am a Ministry spy.”
There was a silence, finally broken by a distant cracking noise. After a moment, Percy pulled himself together, and walked over to the door. “Come on, Harry- you should see this.”
They stood looking through a large window, overlooking a duelling stage. Two combatants walked on, drew their wands, and bowed to each other. Harry turned to Percy in puzzlement. "Why are we... bloody hell- that's Neville!"
Harry watched in astonishment as Neville let loose with a vicious attack, which drove his opponent back before him. Hexes and parries caused the room to light up in flashes; Neville pressed on ferociously, until a stray hex caught his leg; he winced, and dropped his wand. A medwizard rushed out to examine the wound; after a moment, Neville's wand was handed back to him.
"Neville's become one of the best duellists here- it's like he's obsessed," Percy said, as the magical combat resumed. "Minister Scrimgeour thinks he'll be ready for field combat soon."
"Field combat?" Harry said. "Don't you think..."
He was cut off by a loud cracking noise; Neville's opponent lay unconscious on the ground, his wand in pieces.
"...still not certain it's a good idea to have him..." Harry was saying.
"I know," Percy interjected, "but things are- well, you'll see." There was a pause.
"What are you going to do?" Harry asked; Percy winced.
"I don't know," Percy said quietly.
Harry paused, then asked, "Do you still think the Ministry are right in how they're going about this?"
Percy looked around before responding in hushed tones. "I don't know; especially now, after the werewolves- I don't know. But with Dumbledore gone... well, they really are the main line of defense against Voldemort. If the Ministry weren't working to counter him, Voldemort might... I just..." He sighed; to Harry, he looked young, and vulnerable. For a moment, Harry thought of the third year final Quidditch victory against Slytherin, when Percy had jumped up and down like a maniac.
“I suppose... I suppose we all have to make difficult choices,” Percy finally said. Harry was about to answer, when movement caught his eye: in the corner of the room, his poster image was drawing his wand, and sending a horde of Dark creatures, including a werewolf, to flight. Percy followed his gaze; there was an awkward silence.
“Look,” Percy finally said, "you really couldn’t-"
“Thanks,” Harry said tightly. Percy paused, and then nodded. “Come this way,” he said. “There’s something else Minister Scrimgeour wanted you to see.”
They paused in front of a door. “In there,” Percy said. “Friends of yours, from Hogwarts.”
“Oh?”
“I miss Hogwarts,” Percy said quietly. “Things made sense there.” He lowered his voice further, and glanced up and down the corridor, before continuing, “I miss Professor Lupin. He was always kind to me.”
There was a pause, as Harry tried to decide how to respond; finally, Percy pulled the door open, and walked off down the corridor without a backward glance. Harry was looking after him, when a familiar voice called, “Harry!”
Harry turned, and saw Seamus, Dean, and several others of his friends from Hogwarts, all dressed in what looked like Auror’s robes. He forced a big smile, and exchanged greetings and jokes with them all.
“So,” he finally said, indicating the robes, "what is all-"
“Have a look at this!” said Seamus, as he and the others all pulled out Ministry badges. “We’re all now officially Apprentice Aurors, fighting in the war against Voldemort!”
“Fighting...?” Harry repeated, as they dragged him into a large gymnasium.
“Yeah, Harry,” said Terry Boot, “it’s going to be like Dumbledore’s Army all over again!”
The others cheered at this, as Dean interjected, “Only this time, the Ministry is on our side- no more of that Umbridge breathing down our necks!”
Harry glanced briefly at the room’s portrait of Scrimgeour, as the others laughed and exulted; suddenly, a strong hand grasped his shoulder, turning him around. “What...?”
He stared in surprise at the sight of Angelina Johnson; she was wearing a workout outfit, with a towel draped around her neck. “Well, well, Mister Big-Time Quidditch Captain,” she said, playfully thumping his shoulder. “What’s the matter- kneazle got your tongue?”
“No, I- it’s great to see you- you look-,” Harry fumbled for a response, as the others laughed, and Seamus dug him in the ribs. “He looks like he just saw a veela!” Seamus cackled.
“Shut it, Finnegan,” she snapped; Seamus immediately fell silent, as she grinned. “I love doing that,” she said.
“Wish I could,” Harry joked.
“Don’t worry- I’ll have this lot whipped into shape for you soon enough,” she replied. “Days, the Ministry has them studying Defense; evenings, they belong to me. Speaking of which,” she added, looking at the group, “you lot have laps to run- go get changed!”
She and Harry watched for a moment, as the others streamed out of the room. “Fighting in the battle against Voldemort...?” Harry finally asked.
“That’s right,” she said. “You know the situation- even with the ICW loaning us troops, we need everyone who can swing a wand. And anyway, how many times have you faced Voldemort...?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Besides,” she interjected with a grin, “if your pale arse can survive four goes, I figure I’m good for at least a dozen.”
Harry shook his head. “I know it sounds stupid, but- they’re all so young...”
“No time for them to get any older,” she replied. “All we can do is train them, and I’m doing that. Speaking of which,”- she poked him in the stomach- “you could use some gym time yourself, mister Chosen One.”
“Maybe next time,” Harry said; he paused in the doorway. “Have you seen Neville? I saw him earlier, but...”
Angelina pointed down a corridor. “He went that way- just got some hard news, so I let him out early.”
Harry spotted Neville waiting for the elevator; he ran up to him. “Hi,” he said, panting slightly.
Neville's head turned slightly to look at Harry, then faced straight ahead again. His wand hung loosely from one hand. “Hello,” Neville said quietly.
"Err- you were brilliant just now," Harry said. Neville did not respond; finally, Harry said, "I... I heard you got some bad news."
Neville's hand clenched; Harry saw the edge of a wrapper clenched in it. "My dad," Neville said quietly. "He stopped eating. I tried to help feed him, but there was no one else free; I had to keep up my Defense studies, and then..."
"I'm sorry," Harry said awkwardly.
"Don't be," Neville said, roughly shoving the wrapper into his pocket. The elevator doors opened; they stepped inside. "It's like gran says," Neville continued. "He died fighting Voldemort, just like..."
"Yeah."
They rode on in silence, until Neville said, "You know what I'd like?"
"What?"
"I'd like to see him. Voldemort. I don't care how scary he is; everyone's always been so terrified of this mysterious Dark Lord- I'd just like to see him, and know that he's just some bloke who went to Hogwarts, just like me. With detentions and all."
"And those lemon drops of Dumbledore's," Harry added; Neville smiled faintly.
"Yeah," Neville said. Then, as the elevator doors opened, his hand clenched around his wand. "I'd like to see him- then, I'd like to..."
"Harry!" Tonks called, rushing up to him. "You need to come back to the house with me, right now!"
Harry strained to look over his shoulder at Neville as Tonks dragged him outside- then, the door closed, and Neville was gone.
"...so bloody important?" Harry was saying, as they walked up to the house.
"It's two things, Harry: first, your regular Ministry duties have been suspended for the time being."
"What? Why?"
Tonks hesitated on the porch. "Lucius Malfoy has escaped from Azkaban."
Harry threw up his hands. "Really? That's great! What next- is Grindelwald waiting in the parlor?"
"You'd better see for yourself," she finally replied; she took out her wand, and traced a design on the door before pulling it open. As the front door closed behind them, she called out, "It's Harry and Tonks- we're alone."
"Good thing, too," Moody growled, as he pulled off an invisibility cloak, and Shacklebolt- whose robes were badly torn- Arthur, Ron, and Hermione appeared from Disillusionment Charms.
"Cover the windows," Moody said; his face was freshly bandaged, as was one arm. Shacklebolt tapped the windows with his wand; they grew dark. "Don't," Moody snapped, as Harry reached for his wand. "We have light enough for this."
With that, he pulled on a thick, black glove, reached into a pocket of his robes, and pulled out what was unmistakably the cup of Helga Hufflepuff.
