Chapter 2 Harry Gets an Offer

Harry slid his fingers under his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, but kept his wand out as he escorted the three prisoners into the front gates of the Azkaban Fortress. The absence of Death Eaters had left a void in wizarding society that apparently every two-bit con artist was eager to fill. Few of them were very good at it without the central organization the Death Eaters had provided, and Harry and his Auror unit had spent the two years since graduation tracking down would-be replacements for places in the system that had once been under Voldemort's control. The three in front of him, two men and a woman, were the last in a syndicate that had been more difficult than most to root out, and Harry was desperately glad to have the job over with.

He poked at the closest wizard with his wand, trying to get him to walk faster. It had been a long night, and he really just wanted to go home. The man looked over his shoulder at him and scowled, and Harry saw that there was still blood on the side of his face and the front of his robes. Not his blood, either; it was from one of the two Aurors who had been injured in the raid.

"Get moving, Griffiths," Harry snapped. He was due a couple days off, since he hadn't had one in over a month, and he already had plans to spend most of the time sleeping. All he had left to do was to get this lot securely into their cells, then he could go home.

At that moment the wizard in the front of the little procession spun around. He pulled a wand out of an inner pocket and pointed it at Harry with a yell of "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry ducked the shot of green light without even really thinking about it. He rolled on the ground and shot a Stunning spell at the one who had cast it. As he slumped to the ground, the witch screamed, grabbed up her fallen comrade's wand, and shot another Killing Curse at Harry. Harry was faster, and cast a Mirroring Charm that reflected her green flash back at her. The spell from her own wand hit her squarely in the chest. Damn, he thought, he had really thought they would get through tonight without anyone being killed.

The security guards were running toward them, Stunning spells flying in flashes of red light. Harry started to rise, but the third wizard, the one covered in Dawlish's blood, jumped on him and got in a solid punch to his jaw before Harry got his wand into position and Stunned him. The security guards rushed up behind him and levitated the man's limp body off of Harry, then bound him with thick prickly ropes from their wands.

Harry stood, a bit dazed from the blow to his face. It was his own stupid fault. He didn't know how the first wizard had gotten a wand or where he had hidden it. That was careless. He would have to put it in his report, and his unit could be damn sure they'd be reamed for it at debriefing. He touched his hand to the corner of his mouth and it came away with blood on it. Disgusted at the whole thing, he spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor of the prison.

"You all right there, Mr. Potter?" one of the guards called to him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Get me the forms, Elston, so I can get the hell out of here."

The guard lifted his wand and summoned three clipboards. Harry grabbed them out of the air and filled them out as quickly as he could, scrawling his name across the bottom.

"I'll need a fatality report, too, Elston," Harry said. He really didn't want to stay and fill out all this paperwork, but it was better than coming back later to do it.

The fourth clipboard floated over to him, and he wrote as succinct an account of what had happened as he could. Suspect tried to kill Potter. Potter reflected her curse back at her. That about covered it. If Kingsley wanted more details, he could wait until Monday. He turned on the heel of his dragon-leather boot, intending to leave the Fortress.

"Oy, Potter!" Elston shouted. "Owl just came!"

Harry stifled a groan and turned back. Taking the owl from the guard, he removed the note from its leg and unrolled it.

Report to my office before you leave for the day. Shacklebolt.

Damn. One more minute and he would have honestly been able to say he had missed the owl. He looked down at the criminals who had delayed his departure. Gits. Now it would be another hour before he got home. It was already sunrise as it was. With another farewell to the guards, he Apparated back to the Ministry of Magic.



Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of Auror Operations, looked down at the file in front of him. Potter's record was impressive, especially for someone so young. He knew there would be talk, knew that a lot of people would say that Potter was too young, or that he was all reputation and no substance, but they could ride that out. Fact was, Potter had a record more impressive than Aurors twice his age.

No, Kingsley was confident in his decision. He had gone over and over it, and it was the right thing to do. So he couldn't help but wonder where this niggling doubt came from, why he had a feeling that it wasn't going to work out the way he hoped it would. He ran a hand over his smooth bald head. It was something about Potter, he realized. It wasn't about performance. It was about commitment. Not that Potter ever let them down, ever gave anything less than a hundred percent. It was just-- he was getting the feeling that Potter's heart wasn't really in this any more.

The door opened in front of him and Potter walked in. Kingsley could see that he was tired; there were shadows under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. It was no wonder, the bloke hadn't slept in three days. The look he gave Kingsley as he shut the door behind him was none too friendly, either.

"What happened to your face, Potter?" Kingsley said by way of greeting.

"One of the bastards had a wand," Harry said, shrugging and lifting the back of his hand to the trickle of blood. "Avoidable snafu. My unit's going to hear about it, believe me."

"Is it wrapped up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, dropping wearily down in the chair in front of Kingsley's desk. "Had to kill one of 'em."

That news neither surprised nor worried Kingsley. The fact was, since Potter had invented the Mirror Charm a little over four years ago, people were seldom killed any more who didn't do it to themselves. If one of the criminals had died, it was because he or she had tried to kill Potter, and ended up as a victim of their own curse.

"I know you're due a few days off," Kingsley began, "but there's something I want you to think about over the weekend."

Harry looked up sharply. This didn't sound like the usual list of next week's operations he had been expecting.

Kingsley folded his long dark hands in front of him. "This is to stay within these walls, Potter, until the appropriate time." Harry nodded. "Williamson is retiring at the end of the month, and Minister Bones has asked me if I will consider replacing him as Head of Department."

Harry grinned. That was the best news he had heard all day. Never mind that it was barely dawn. He jumped up and grabbed Kingsley's hand to shake it. "That's brilliant, sir!" he said with true enthusiasm. Kingsley smiled and Harry flopped back into the chair. "Just within these walls, mate, it's about time. You'll be great."

Kingsley inclined his head in a dignified gesture. "Thank you, Potter," he said. "I do believe I have something to offer in that position. But, as you can see, it leaves my position open. Whoever I choose to succeed me must be ready to step in when Williamson steps down."

Harry nodded. He had an idea what was coming, and he couldn't help grinning a bit to himself. He had been looking forward to this day for some time now. He crossed his fingers and watched as Kingsley took one last look down at the files in front of him.

"I want you to consider taking the position of Head of Auror Operations," Kingsley said.

Harry's jaw dropped open, and a few drops of blood dripped onto his robe. He sat up straight. That was not what he had been expecting. "What?" he said incredulously, slapping his hand on the arm of the chair. "You can't be serious!"

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "I am serious, Potter," he said. "Your record of successful missions, initiative, and leadership make it plain to me that you are the one in this department best qualified for the job."

"But I thought--" Harry realized he was sputtering and he shut his mouth for a moment. The action aggravated the bruise that was darkening on his jaw. "I mean, Tonks has seniority over me. I assumed she would move into your position and I would move into hers."

Kingsley nodded. That was the more common expectation, he knew. "I feel that Tonks is of best use to the department in the position she now holds. Do you have a problem with her work in Auror Training?"

Harry shook his head impatiently. "No, of course not," he said. "She's great. I just thought that was how it would work."

Kingsley studied him for a long moment. "That is how it usually works," he conceded. "But, your record is more significant than hers, and I want you in a position that doesn't keep you off the streets entirely."

Kingsley continued to watch Harry as he struggled to assimilate this new information. After a few minutes the boy sat up in his chair and regarded him intensely.

"If I'm going to consider taking this job," he said, "there are some things I need to know."

Kingsley nodded. That was no more than he had expected.

"Personal things," Harry said, looking him in the eyes.

Kingsley looked up. That was something he hadn't expected.

"All right," Harry said, sitting back again and running a hand through his hair. "Er...are you married?"

"Married?" Kingsley couldn't keep his surprise from showing. "Well, no. I've never been married."

"Why not?"

Kingsley frowned. He wasn't at all sure he liked the direction this conversation was going. "I don't know," he said. "I just never got around to it, I suppose."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Kingsley shook his head. "No, not at the moment." Was this about sex? Potter was a young man; those things were important to young men. But if Potter was going to turn down this promotion because of sex, Kingsley would curse him himself.

Kingsley crossed his arms in front of his muscular chest. "Do you have a girlfriend, Potter?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair again. "No, I don't," he answered with a frown. "What's your home like?"

Kingsley called to mind his flat as best he could. There wasn't much to remember. "I live in a small flat above a shop in Diagon Alley," he said slowly.

"But what's it like?" Harry asked insistently. "Do you look forward to going there, or is it just the place where you sleep and shower?"

Kingsley shrugged, feeling like he was getting out of his depth. "It's just a flat, Potter. I expect it's similar to the one you live in. Don't you just live on the next block?"

"Yeah," Harry said, a strange smile on his face. "Yeah, I just live on the next block."

"Look, Potter," Kingsley said, hoping he could steer them out of these uncomfortable waters. "Take the weekend off, and don't come back until Monday. Give it some thought, all right?"

"All right, then," Harry said, standing. "I'll think about it. See you Monday."

Harry Apparated home, to the middle of his own flat above a shop in Diagon Alley. He barely glanced around, but there wasn't much to glance at, anyway. A few worn posters of the Chudley Cannons, a framed Daily Prophet photo of Ginny Weasley making a spectacular catch at an exhibition match last year, a picture of the little twins giggling up at him and waving, a framed copy of the Daily Prophet headline announcing DAY OF VICTORY! POTTER DEFEATS DARK LORD!!!

The blood had dried on his face, and the bruise on his jaw was getting more tender by the minute. His muscles were starting to feel sore, and he knew that if he didn't take his shower before he fell asleep, he'd be sorry. He dropped his clothes on the floor and left them where they fell. He stood in the shower, leaning against the wall and letting the scalding water flow over him. For a moment he let himself think about the conversation with Kingsley. Damn. He had been so sure Kingsley would slide him up into Tonks' position. He had been an idiot, letting himself dream about that. He shook his head in mockery of himself, letting the water run into his eyes. He had even been coming up with lesson plans, ways to modify and build on Tonks' basic program. Her program was effective, but there were a few things he--

He turned off the water, angry with himself. He wasn't being offered the training job, so he could just stop thinking about those things right now. He was being offered a better job, a more responsible one, one that would put him within reach of Department Head within a decade. Any other Auror would jump at the chance. It was a brilliant opportunity.

He had no business judging Kingsley, he thought. He didn't have anything in his life but work, either. Fifty more years of coming home to a flat like this, with nobody waiting for him, with only pictures of other people's children to greet him. A lifetime of living for work and climbing the ladder. If that was all there was going to be for him, he might as well climb as high as possible.

On that depressing thought he fell naked onto his bed. He barely remembered to set the alarm clock to wake him up on time to get to the Burrow for dinner. It was the twins' birthday and he had promised to be there. He couldn't be late.