Chapter Text
“Fucking hell!”
Harry ducked a curse, the chair in front of him a poor choice of cover, as another curse was aimed between the spindled legs. “‘Do Observation Week at the Ministry, Harry. It’ll be a good learning experience!’” Harry mimicked the words Hermione had said to him two months ago. The lamp to his left shattered under the Killing Curse. They were throwing fucking Killing Curses now?
How he ended up here, Harry wasn’t sure.
***
“Maybe I don’t want to be an Auror.” Those words, spoken to Hermione halfway through eighth-year, during a moment of weakness at the edge of the Black Lake, roped him into attending Observation Week, one of the many new programmes that the Ministry implemented after the war.
Harry whittled the comprehensive list of department offerings to five—one day per department—what could it hurt?
Notepad in hand—Hermione’s only insistence—Harry flooed to the Ministry with the rest of the eager students.
Monday, he attended several training sessions and lengthy meetings with the laidback employee of Magical Games and Sports.
Pros:
- Quidditch scrimmage match w/ Whimbourne Wasps (awesome)
- Physical activity daily
Cons:
- How many broom regulations do we need?
- Meetings 3+ hours
- Gobstones is an actual sport…
***
Tuesday heralded a less eventful time in the Ministry Archives.
Pros:
- Silence
- Nobody but Hermione would ever come to visit
- Self-reflection time
Cons:
- Can’t snack
- Fucking papercuts
- Self-reflection time (I think I need to see a Mind Healer)
***
Wednesday found Harry assisting with kennel cleaning for the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in their Holding and Rehabilitation Centre.
Pros:
- Crup duty: loved belly rubs & surprisingly good at fetch
- Creature Healer Kerr is cool. Got to bandage the Augurey’s wing
- Unlike Hagrid’s class, no fires!
- Flexible schedule—free time to convince the rat snake to do acrobatics
Cons:
- Sanitation duty = poop cleanup
- Aurors are dicks—they could have dealt with the “loose Pygmy Puff” on their own
- Might adopt all the creatures (especially the Niffler! He’s been returned 4 times for “havoc”)
***
Thursday placed Harry with the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes.
Pros:
- Diverse team
- Travel
Cons:
- A LOT of Obliviating
- Magic is routine—3 cases of colour-changing, 5 magical creature sightings, & 7!!! Levitation Spells gone wrong
- Diplomacy with angry Muggles
***
On Friday, Harry spent the morning watching the Aurors pick up assigned cases, flit in and out of the bullpen, and complete paperwork. The Aurors he was paired with spent the morning hours completing paperwork from a case they’d closed the previous shift, transporting evidence to lockup, and drinking an unhealthy amount of coffee.
Harry was just about to pull out his notepad to start on his Pro/Con list for the day when Aurors Fielding and McAllister were assigned to respond to an in-progress break in at Aunt Patty’s Antiquities.
“We’ll set you up in a ward zone inside and you’ll be fine. It’s the best way to observe.” Fielding’s words seemed a little too laidback for Harry’s taste.
“If it’s active, shouldn’t I stay outside?”
“Nonsense.” McAllister grasped Harry’s arm and yanked him along. “Just stay behind me. I will set out the wardstone and we’ll be good to go.”
***
Pros:
- Are there any? Really????
- Develop a taste for coffee
- Meet new people
Cons:
- Pretty sure the department is maladroit (new word of the day from Hermione!)—setting out a wardstone is 3 steps, literally 3!
- Take out of pocket
- Put on ground near wall
- Tap with wand to activate
** That’s it! And these IDIOTS couldn’t even manage step 1 without being knocked out with a Stunner! **
- Crystal shards embedded in my neck (hurt like a bitch to have removed)
- No peace, ever. Just more Death Eater types everywhere. I already died; why am I even here?
***
Harry just wanted to go home. Fuck this day.
As they walked back into the bullpen, Fielding was hailed by Head Auror Robards. “Heard you got into a spot of trouble.”
“Just a few Neo-Death Eater kids messing around.” Fielding brushed off the attack they had just survived and pushed Harry forward. “Saviour boy did well. He’ll make a great addition to the team. Stunned two of them.”
“That right?” Robards gave Harry an appraising look. Harry was sure his dishevelled appearance—hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, robes askew, torn shirt collar, and dust-covered jeans—did not inspire confidence. Hell, he hoped his whole demeanour screamed: You do not want me on this team! If he never caught another curse flying at him, Harry would be content.
“Good on you, lad. Fielding, finish the day with one more case. Should be an easy one. Wouldn’t want to tire Harry here out on paperwork,” Robards continued, shooting Harry a wink, obviously thinking he was giving him a treat.
***
Harry wished to be anywhere else. His eyes roamed the room. Aurors were crammed together, deskbacks touching their partners, paperwork spanning the surfaces. He watched as an older man pushed to his feet, his chair knocking into the chair behind him. The disturbed witch made no indication of noticing the hit aside from a quick tap of her wand to adjust her shaky quill stroke. There was a line—a bloody five-person deep line—at the coffee station, a harried young wixen refilling the dual pots, hands moving with unnatural speed and deftness. This looked like hell.
Maybe this was hell.
He pulled out his notepad and scribbled:
- This place is Hell!!!
Harry opened his mouth, the request to leave catching in his throat. He promised Hermione that he would give this a fair and proper chance.
What were a few stray curses? I’m fine. There is no real reason to leave.
Harry sighed, resting on his heels, shoulders slumped forward as Fielding reviewed the file. “House call in Old Arley. Easy.”
***
From his warded position (Look! They set up a wardstone in three simple steps!) Harry’s mind wandered as Aurors Fielding and McAllister questioned the Squib about a possible Dementor sighting.
He should have gone home. Now he was outside in the freezing cold weather, rain clouds piling ominously in the sky overhead, without a jumper and stuck in a warded bubble. Something moved in the hedge to his right and Harry clamped his eyes shut.
Would it be okay to just Apparate away?
Harry’s wand slid from his forearm holster and into his hand. He trained his wand on the area and held his position. If a Death Eater jumps from this fucking bush, I quit. I am snapping my wand and living as a Muggle.
In the distance, McAllister was explaining the difference between a Dementor and a Hinkypunk, the creature in question peeking out from across the bog.
“But the lights have been flickering,” the Squib woman complained. “There must be a Dementor!”
A jet black furry head pushed its way through the thick foliage, golden eyes locking on Harry’s. The cat growled low in its throat as it moved.
Harry parted the hedge branches with a spell and saw the damage. The cat’s back leg was hanging at a forty-five degree angle, the bone shattered under the pressure of a metal trap. The sharp silver teeth cut into the skin, fur and flesh peeled back to expose pink muscle and the jagged edges of off-white bone. The lights in the house behind the woman flickered as the creature’s magic flared and caused the wardstone protecting Harry, in case of an emergency, to become dormant. Dawning awareness rushed over him; the creature was a Kneazle.
“Easy there." He stretched out a hand, noting the large pointed ears and the lionesque tail that he’d missed on first glance. Granted, the only Kneazle-like creature he associated with was Crookshanks, and he was only half-Kneazle with minimal magical capabilities—did Animagus hunting even count as a magical capability?
The Kneazle hissed—Harry’s hand pausing mid-air at the sound—then it leaned forward and sniffed his skin. It took its time deciding whether or not it would end this acquaintance with its teeth buried in Harry’s hand. A heartbeat later, the Kneazle mewed at him plaintively, looking back at its leg as if to say, “Well, don't just stand there. Help me get this thing off.”
“Alright, alright." Harry tentatively, in case he’d just misread the whole situation and was about to pay in blood, ran a finger up the Kneazle’s nose to the top of its head. The creature meowed a small sound, whether annoyance or appreciation, Harry did not know. Since he wasn’t screaming from pain, he’d go with appreciation.
He took a step forward and looked at the leg once more. Removing the twisted piece of metal would probably cause more harm than good.
Harry looked to the house as McAllister continued his conversation with the owner.
“Now, there is nothing we can do about a Hinkypunk in the marshlands or surrounding areas. They are well within their rights as indigenous creatures of this area to reside here. If one should injure a Muggle or wixen, we could be brought back in but as the creature is utilising its lighting patterns for nothing nefarious, there is simply nothing that can be done.” McAllister indicated to the Hinkypunk as the creature waved its light mockingly in their direction. “I suggest you ignore it for now. I can have the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures check back in and possibly communicate an agreement between you and the Hinkypunk, but nothing is guaranteed.”
“But what about the lights?” Ms Salmon threw her hands into the air as the lights flickered back to life.
“I would call one of those”—he looked to his partner—“What are they called Bert?”
“Electricians,” Bert, a Muggleborn with little patience for wixen ignorance, huffed.
Harry spoke up, not caring that he was interrupting or breaking protocol by calling attention to himself. “Excuse me.” Three pairs of eyes flew to him, and Harry rushed on. “Do you by chance have any warding up around your house?”
Ms Salmon raised a brow. “Yes, my brother put it in place as I live quite a distance from town. Just a simple protection ward. Why?”
“Well, it’s probably just your Kneazle causing a reaction in the ward when its magic flares. I think it is hurt.”
“Kneazle? I do not own any pets, magical or otherwise.” Her eyes darted to the Hinkypunk as it flashed another light. “Actually, I wish for them to all just leave this area.”
“Oh, well…” Harry didn’t know how to address her inner-Mrs Dursley. Instead, he eyed McAllister and Fielding. “There’s a hurt Kneazle here.”
Fielding approached Harry. “Show me, Potter.”
“That beast is not mine. I want it removed.” Ms Salmon’s voice was curt as she addressed McAllister.
Harry moved the branches to fully expose the creature whose black pointed ears were once again pressed flat against its skull. “It's injured and I think that it is causing the lighting issues. It took down the wardstone and the lights flickered at about the same time.”
“I see.” Fielding pulled out his SpellSlate—an interdepartmental tablet designed for rapid messaging—and scrawled a note on the screen. He tapped the tablet with his wand, sending the missive to the selected department. “Well, that’s that then. Ms Salmon, I have sent a request off to the Creature Retrieval Unit and they should send out someone to deal with the Kneazle in one to three business days. We will also process your complaint regarding the Hinkypunk to the DRCMC and they will be in contact.”
Ms Salmon crossed her bony arms over her frail chest, heaving out breath. “Fine. And when will the lights stop flickering?”
“As soon as the CRU contains the Kneazle, you should have no further issues.”
“Very well.” She stepped back and shut the door firmly between herself and the two Aurors.
“Let’s head back then.” McAllister resheathed his wand.
“What about the Kneazle?” Harry asked, unsure what the hell McAllister meant by contained. His mind darted back to his day in the department, to the creatures scheduled for euthanasia after their stint in containment.
“CRU’s coming. I said that, didn't I?”
Harry stared at the Auror in disbelief.
Who the fuck looked at an injured anything and just left it?
“We can’t just leave it. We have to help.”
McAllister approached, clapping a meaty hand on Harry’s shoulder, his garlic breath wafting into Harry’s nose. “This shit happens all the time. You’ll have to get used to helping to a degree before leaving the work outside of the Auror field to others. Stuff like this”—he gestured to the Kneazle—“happens, and you have to be willing to step back and let the proper people administer care or take control of the situation. Our job as Aurors is done when we close a case.”
Harry opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Okay.”
“Great.” McAllister, clearly thinking that Harry was in agreement, turned back to Fielding. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” Fielding nodded to his partner and started off down the lane.
Harry didn’t follow. He turned back to the Kneazle, his resolve to not join the Auror Department solidified. The creature seemed to be tracking the conversation as it looked hopefully up at Harry. He stepped close enough to touch the Kneazle and without a warning to the Auror team or the creature itself, scooped up the Kneazle in a fluid motion and Apparated on the spot, Apparition point be damned.
***
Wednesday's stint with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures paid off in more ways than one. Healer Archibald Kerr, one of the on-call Magi-zoo Healers for the Ministry Department, had chatted endlessly with Harry about his time in London, his travels to Australia (Why would someone willingly put themselves at the mercy of so many venomous and poisonous creatures?), and his clinic—“just a spot down the road from old Mungo’s.”
Harry appeared at the Apparition point near St Mungo’s. As Harry visited St Mungo’s under stressful situations, he’d never really focused on the other businesses tucked in about the seemingly abandoned clothing shop.
Now, a Disillusioned Kneazle clutched tightly in his arms, Harry wandered the road looking for a sign of the Magi-zoo clinic. Harry approached Purge and Dowse, St Mungo’s Muggle façade, passing Muggles out shopping or gathering to eat at the popular corner deli. He braced a shoulder against the edge of the building and looked across the way. He narrowed his eyes, pushing his magic forward, searching for a crack in the glamour.
Department store, bakery, shoe repair shop, a slightly shabby clock repair shop, boutique, tea shop. His eyes flitted over the storefronts. When he reached the last, a faint glimmer caught his eye and he glanced back down the row.
There! The clock repair shop sported a faint glimmer façade, indicating a glamour. Harry crossed the street, avoiding a taxi as it puttered by, and approached the door on which hung a blue sign: “Closed for repairs.”
Harry stepped closer and, as if anticipating his approach, the words on the sign blurred and reformed: Herbs & Healers Magi-Zoo Clinic. Harry read the sub-line and followed the instruction to rapidly knock three times. The door swung open, allowing for him to cross the threshold.
“Welcome to H and H Clinic.” The welcome witch beamed, her smile as broad as her shoulders. “How can we assist today?”
“Oh, um.” Harry released his Disillusionment Charm on the Kneazle and gave an awkward, one handed wave toward the creature. “I found this Kneazle and it’s hurt.”
The witch flicked her wand, spelling a simple diagnostic, as she compiled paperwork. Harry watched as the Diagnostic Spell’s output was automatically filled within the document. “Fill this out with as much information as you can.”
The parchment now noted the Kneazle’s age (2.3 years); distinguishing marks (black in colour, gold eyes, grey speckling along left ear, grey circlets on hind legs); major injuries (damage to left hind leg: broken fibula, several fractured tarsus and metatarsus, contusions to the skin and surrounding tissues/muscle, torn cruciate ligament); and other injuries (blood loss, dehydration, fatigue, elevated heart rate, mild hypotension, minor abrasions on right and left forelegs).
All that was left to fill was the “easy” information, such as: Name, Owner, History, and Registration Number. Rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand, Harry sighed. He left “Name” blank, but entered his own name under “Owner”. The remaining questions under “History” Harry left blank.
“Oh my.” The welcome witch gaped at his name on the papers when he approached the desk to turn them in. “Mr Potter, sir. An honour.”
“Uh, thanks.” Harry scratched his neck, shoulders hunching. He glanced back at the Kneazle propped on his outer layer of robes in one of the plastic chairs.
The woman flushed before looking back to the paperwork. “So sorry to contradict, Mr Potter, but it seems there was an error on this page here.” Her finger indicated the dreaded black name line. “You forget the name of your Kneazle.”
“Not mine.”
“Well, yes, of course, of course. However, since you are bound into ownership, you must name the creature.”
“Bound into…”
“Well, by signing as ‘Owner’ you have magically stated your claim on the Kneazle through the bonding charm that is attached to the document. We have them on all our documents so people cannot steal other’s creatures and pass them off as their own.”
Harry frowned.
She continued, oblivious to Harry’s rising ire. “And, well, Kneazles are magical creatures who are known for bonding with their owners rather strongly. It is a part of why they are able to tap into their owner’s wards with such ease.”
Harry scrubbed his free hand under his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “You are saying that your jinxed paperwork just adopted a Kneazle for me?”
“Not jinxed, charmed.” She flipped her cherry-red ponytail over her shoulder as she straightened her spine. “Congratulations.”
“Feels like a fucking jinx.” He muttered the words with a shake of his head. He looked up to find the receptionist’s wide gaze trained on him, her finger still tapping on “Name.”
He snatched the pen from the countertop and scrawled a name on the line before returning to his previous seat to wait.
The Kneazle purred, the sound a soft hum in the air, as Harry relaxed into the seat. He could already feel its magic sliding along his own. Absently, he soothed the creature further, his hand gliding through its fur. Top marks to me—picked up a bloody pet and finally decided my so-called ‘dream job’ can go to hell all before supper. Look Hermione, Observation Week worked.
***
Three gruelling hours later, Harry walked away from the clinic with more than he bargained for.
Pros:
- New Kneazle—safe wards and companionship
- Application for the Royal Veterinary College’s Creature Care Programme (fee waiver included)
- Part-time job offer for H&H Clinic
Cons:
- Need to shop for raw meat
- Have to explain to Kreacher why I’m bringing a Kneazle home (and he was just warming up to Pimsy)
- Disappointing the wixen world by not becoming an Auror—Oh well!