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Chapter 6 : Among Friends

Albus Dumbledore was having a particularly harrowing morning; it had been mere hours since Harry Potter had left the school but his unusual absence at breakfast had set the Gryffindor table into aspeculative frenzy. There had already been several letters, too – Most probably from the press who had already noticed the young man at the Ministry building and were fishing for information. Dumbledore was quite sure that before the day was out, someone would know what was going on – the Hogwarts grapevine was rather well-tended.

"Albus, do you know anything about this?" Minerva McGonagall asked, taking a sip from her pumpkin juice. "I was in the tower earlier and Potter's bed didn't seem to have even been used."

Dumbledore turned to his long-time friend, beaming. Due to the absence of several professors this morning, he was sharing the head table with McGonagall and Snape to his right and nobody to his left."There's nothing to worry about, Minerva. There was some discretion in Mr. Potter's activities these last few days for a good reason – a reason that I imagine will no longer exist tomorrow."

"I noticed you having him up in your office for days on end." McGonagall said with a sniff. "I imagine you've been cooking up a new plan for the boy?"

"I'm afraid that Mr. Potter is no longer a student at Hogwarts," Dumbledore admitted with an apologetic smile. "He has left earlier today."

"The rumours are /true/? He's left Hogwarts?" Minerva said, too loudly. Dumbledore winced, as he noted several Gryffindor students staring at their transfiguration teacher. Snape, sitting to her immediate right waved his wand and a soft buzzing sound permeated the air.

"He was offered a rather prestigious job in Rufus' new ministry," Dumbledore continued softly, nodding thankfully at the Potions Master, "Severus and I have been in contact over that and – other developments. It was intentionally kept silent to avoid the press."

"At sixteen?" Minerva said with a frown. "Are you sure that's wise, Albus? Mr. Potter is not exactly politically knowledgeable. Besides that, he's only partially trained and he needs his NEWTs to pursue his chosen profession."

"Auror, if I recall," Dumbledore answered idly, looking over his glasses. "I believe you will find Mr. Potter will have little trouble making the transition to the Aurors from his current position – he is to start in the Department of Mysteries."

McGonagall looked at Dumbledore with wide eyes. "The Unspeakables?"

"I assure you, it's quite safe," Dumbledore said airily."You might not know it, but I have had dealings with the Department before. I was given a tour of the London branch, once, even. I am quite convinced that young Harry will find a suitable place there."

"Albus!" McGonagall said with a glare. "You know full well that with the Death Eaters out there, Mr. Potter could very well use more protection than even Hogwarts could give. The Ministry's not half as well warded."

"Indeed," Dumbledore conceded with a shrug. "You will find, however, that since the unfortunate events of several months ago, security in the Department of Mysteries is back to alevel it hasn't had since the forties. Polyuice nor Glamours work effectively in the lower levels now – something we cannot claim for Hogwarts, even. Besides that, the Ministry has some of its most powerful wizards and aurors in permanent employ of the Unspeakables."

"The Dark Lord will not attack the Ministry, Minerva." Snape said in a barely audible whisper. "He is aware of the new security and without the prophecy, his most important reason for wanting in has been removed. I am unsure how the presence of Potter will affect his decisions."

"In time, I am sure that Tom will again attack the Department," Dumbledore admitted. "The same could be said for Hogwarts, were Harry here. I very much doubt that he would be deterred by anything short of a Fidelius charm."

"You'll leave him in the Ministry where you know he might be attacked?" McGonagall asked, appalled. "He'll be well out of your reach should anything happen!"

"I assure you there are certain benefits to being me that Icould make use of," Dumbledore said, eyeing the Gryffindor table that had stopped trying to decipher what the head table was discussing. Snape's muffling spell seemed rather effective. "Besides that, Mr. Potter will be learning apparition and other important techniques in his first weeks at the Ministry, allowing him to more readily respond to Death Eater threats on his own. He's quite resourceful, as you well know."

"You know something." Snape said angrily, glaring balefully.

"I know many things," Dumbledore said lightly, noting suddenly the absence of a second person that morning – Draco Malfoy. "I do believe I have something important to see to. Iassure you, Severus, we will discuss this matter at length."

McGonagall, irate at being out of the loop, suddenly realized something important and managed to grab Dumbledore's purple star-spangled robe. "Albus! Where am I going to get a new Seeker?"

"Greetings, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore said amicably as he finally tracked down Draco to a seventh floor hallway. The boy was sitting against the wall under the painting of Barnabas the Barmy and was holding a letter in his hand – unfinished and smudged.

"Headmaster." Malfoy intoned, glancing up guiltily. "I knew you'd show up eventually."

"I was merely curious as to your absence at the breakfast table." Dumbledore said. "I assure you that I do not believe you were engaged in mischief – though that is something that should be engaged in from time to time, surely."

Malfoy didn't answer for a time, then finally sighed and stood up, wiping his sleeves as if they were dusty. "If you must know, Iintended to write a letter and I was not inclined to do it where certain people could see it."

"Certain people?" Dumbledore said bemusedly. "You distrust your house mates?"

"I was writing to your golden boy Potter," Malfoy said, waving his letter. "I imagine I'd get quite a few stares for that alone."

"I was under the impression you and Mr. Potter were on rather unfriendly terms," Dumbledore said, casually conjuring acomfortable chair and lowering himself into it. "In fact, Irecall the two of you have a history of verbal and physical altercations."

"Well, yes." Malfoy said, shrugging. "We've been on opposite ends of most everything for ages, and that's been a bit of atrouble between us. It's just that we have come to a sort of, er, unofficial arrangement of late."

"You and Mr. Potter? I wouldn't have thought it possible." Dumbledore said, smiling. "I do enjoy the end of a childhood rivalry at times, though."

"This stays between us, right?" Malfoy asked nervously, scanning the hallways for other people (though most were most likely still at breakfast.)

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy. To be entirely honest, I had thought your opinion of Mr. Potter did not greatly differ from your opinion of myself. Remarkable."

"I..." Malfoy started, hesitating. "I have an agreement with Potter regarding the safety of Professor Snape."

Now Dumbledore was really perplexed, and he blinked several times."I very much doubt that either of you has much to do with Severus' safety."

"I've been spying on him," Malfoy admitted, fidgeting."My Father requested it of me before he was captured. Potter caught me at it. He knew... things."

"He knew things?" Dumbledore said, curiously. "Anything you wish to share?"

"It was like he knew what I was thinking, but it wasn't Legilimency." Malfoy said, glancing up apologetically."Professor Snape taught me and a few others the basics of Occlumency, a few years back. I can sense someone doing the reading."

"He had information about you that could be used as blackmail, and he used it?" Dumbledore mused, concerned.

"Blackmail? No, he didn't attempt to coerce me. He just knew that I was looking for a way out of the whole mess, and he had one. I'm not sure why I trusted him, but he seemed really sure of himself and I hardly think a Gryffindor is that good at lying."

Dumbledore suddenly relaxed, smiling slightly. "Curious. Iimagine I can ask Severus about this?"

Malfoy nodded slightly. "I have already spoken to Professor Snape. Potter convinced me not to share what I knew about his treachery, and we've sort of agreed to let it be."

"You are aware of Severus' true loyalties, then." Dumbledore concluded, eyes gleaming. "Yet you were convinced by your nemesis not to report it to Voldemort?"

Malfoy flinched. "Yes. Whatever you might think, I'm not aslave to the Dark Lord. I don't believe even Father really wishes to remain a Death Eater, but he presently has no way out. He's in Azkaban now, of course."

"Your father has never been very shy about using Unforgivable Curses or attacking muggleborns." Dumbledore said knowingly."Regardless of his true loyalties, he is in prison now for legitimate reasons."

"I would rather avoid getting allied with the opposition," Malfoy finally said, sadly. "Being seen as an ally to Potter would make me a target – I'd be considered a traitor, certainly– and it would also put Mother at risk."

"You are well aware that you cannot go into Voldemort's presence as you are," Dumbledore said, relieved. "He is afar more powerful Legilimens than you have encountered – except perhaps myself, but I am not inclined to use it – and would read your doubt immediately. The very fact that you conspired with the Boy-Who-Lived would most likely get you killed."

Malfoy paled, thinking about it. "The Dark Lord has been at the Manor a few times already. I can't go back there – he could show up at any moment and my life would be forfeit."

"You will be as safe at Hogwarts as most anywhere," Dumbledore said softly. "I will look into possibilities for using the Fidelius charm on your manor – it would keep your mother safe and secure."

"That would be … agreeable." Malfoy answered, grimacing. "I suppose that you're right – there's not really a neutrality to be had here. You're either with the Dark Lord or against him. Still, an ally to Potter – that I would fall so low."

"Young Mr. Potter, as I am sure you are well aware, is now the youngest Unspeakable in about a century." Dumbledore said with a smile. "Besides that, he has considerable political influence due to his status as a celebrity. You could go far with such allies."

"Youngest Unspeakable in a century? I figured he'd go and top that youngest Seeker record."

"I do believe that the last youngest Unspeakable – technically associate – is standing before you now." Dumbledore said with a slight smile. "I believe I am allowed to be put out about it as much as you are."

"You worked with the Unspeakables? Mrs. Burbidge didn't mention it, I'm sure she would have." Malfoy said, confused.

"Oh, I don't actually remember it," Dumbledore waved off. "I was young and reckless and the obliviators were busy for days. Somewhere along the way I mysteriously forgot what happened, as did everyone else." He winked conspiratorially.

"Maybe I can arrange an obliviator to alter Potter's memories for me," Malfoy said with a thin smile. "I'm sure he'd enjoy remembering losing all his quidditch matches."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly as he vanished his chair and moved back towards the central hallway and staircases. "I believe you should head to your classes, Mr. Malfoy. I do believe we will speak again."

Dumbledore had much to think about.

The pony-tailed Auror twirled his wand absent-mindedly, staring off into the sky. He and Proudfoot were getting ready for along-distance portkey and entirely nervous – this would be his first long trip. Proudfoot seemed quite confident in comparison, fingering the thin red rope that had been turned into an international portkey.

"Don't be a pansy, Williamson." Alastor Moody announced from the corner of the balcony. The large blue-tiled squarish area was one of several standard apparition locations for specific use by Aurors – Two more were higher up, and were barely visible from this level. There were cushioning spells all around to bounce back any poor navigators. All were outside to decrease the chances of accidental splinching. All of the apparition locations were also used for official portkey use.

"I understand we're going to the state of Washington? Not particularly far." Proudfoot said matter-of-factly. "I've been to New Zealand once – that's about the furthest you could potentially portkey, unless you make one that has multiple stops. You shouldn't worry."

"We're going to be whipped halfway around the world!" Williamson said, agitated. "The furthest I've even apparated is about a hundred miles. I'm nervous about splinching over vast distances like this. Can't you get that?"

"It's a portkey, mate. No splinching." Moody said with ashrug. "This isn't your first mission without a higher-up along, Williamson. Don't act like a bloody child."

Williamson didn't react, but he nervously looked at the cuckoo clock that was hanging on the wall – it wasn't really keeping the time, merely counting down the seconds to the next portkey activation. Fifteen seconds. He held his hand tight around the rope portkey, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prepare himself for the trip.

"I'll hear from you in a week." Moody said as he walked off, grinning. With a loud yelp Williamson and Proudfoot were whisked away in a kaleidoscope of colours – it'd take them several minute to arrive, by which time both would most likely need some cleaning charms.

"You shouldn't abuse his fears, Mad-Eye." Scrimgeour said, as he walked out onto the balcony. "It's cruel."

"He shouldn't have any fears that he can't conquer. He's abloody Auror." Moody said aggressively. "He's been here for a decade, he should be beyond this. I feared portkeys when I started but I got over that pretty quickly."

"You know full well that very few Aurors meet all your requirements, Alastor. You do it by design. If the average Auror were to be better, I imagine your standard would go up. By the way, alittle respect might go a long way. I know you taught me most of what I know, but I outrank you now."

"I'll treat you like I bloody well please, Rufus. What're you doing up here, anyway? Looking out for the newbies?" Moody asked, eye rolling wildly. "Figured you'd still be leading Potter around with your trickery."

"He actually figured me out before we arrived at the lower levels," Scrimgeour said softly. "Thought I was someone else using Polyjuice. I think he figured it out from a slip of my tongue."

"He's learned a thing or two from my time with 'im, Iimagine." Moody said.

"I am aware of your activities with Dumbledore's vigilante group," Scrimgeour confirmed. "If you were actually employed here, I'd have to fire you. As it is – glad to see the boy's got good teachers."

"You must also be aware I was never the boy's teacher, then." Moody answered gruffly, rubbing his leg. "I was stuck in a trunk for most of the year. I use it for a bedroom now."

"I was referring to your past summer." Scrimgeour noted, smirking at Moody's surprise. "I'm well-informed, don't be so surprised."

"I'd love to know your sources," Moody said gruffly. "I didn't even notice a bloody spy."

"That is the point."

"So, have you come to upset an ex-employee or do you actually have something to tell me?" Moody questioned, as several wizards apparated in and quickly passed the two by.

"I had the most fascinating experience down in the Department of Mysteries." Scrimgeour said. "Figured you are closest to the young man involved. Mr. Potter uttered the most interesting thing when he entered. I believe he actually went and had a prescient moment right there."

"Prescient moment? You mean one of those visions of his? I figured that was mostly gone, now." Moody mused. "Occlumency training's good enough to beat it, I thought."

"This didn't match up with tactile forecasting, as far as I'm aware." Scrimgeour answered. "In fact, it had much more similarities with genuine visual predictions – except he recalls it. He was able to interpret immediately after it happened without anyone filling him in on the details."

"Are you telling me the boy's an honest-to-Merlin Oracle? I thought that was only for women?"

"There's been male Oracles before," Scrimgeour said, shrugging. "The term is mostly obsolete because the common meaning of Seer encompasses it well enough. The uncanny thing is the fact that actual Oracles throughout history show the ability their entire life – it first appears in very early childhood and would be exceedingly obvious. Of course, Mr. Potter's childhood was not typical."

"What'd he predict?"

"A Death Eater attack." Scrimgeour said. "Seems to have been activated by seeing Head Unspeakable Mirrikh – the moment the two met he went and told him that someone would be attacking his family and that they'd be poisoned. Mirrikh apparated home immediately."

"I take it that Potter was correct?"

"Three Death-Eaters were trying to break through the wards when he arrived. There was a large snake present as well. The snake in question is reportedly Lord Voldemort's familiar. All the alerting wards were out and the floo was disabled – and Mrs. Mirrikh doesn't have an apparition license."

"She probably can't apparate with a passenger," Moody realized. "The kid would've been caught for sure."

"Correct – In fact, she relies on her husband for apparating. Mr. Potter saved at least one life with his warning. Without intent, most probably. I'm suspicious."

"Suspicious? I imagine I can see that. It'd be a rather obvious way to ingratiate himself with his superiors. I don't think there's anyone less likely to actually work for Voldie, though."

"Voldie? So delightfully disturbing, your penchant for nicknaming You-Know-Who." Scrimgeour chuckled. "No, I can't imagine that Potter would cross that line. I'd have my suspicions about his allegiance to Dumbledore, but even that wizard wouldn't be so very blunt. Either Mr. Potter's incredibly lucky about his gifts – or he's got a destiny around here."

"If he's an actual Oracle..." Moody offered tersely,"They're bloody fickle. He might well have visions at opportune time without even realizing it – we've got little knowledge of where the precognition comes from, after all."

"Considering the Temporal Division is also interested, I'm thinking we're going to see a lot more crazy things."

"I have no doubt about that," Moody agreed, rubbing his nose – or what was left of it. "The boy's got promise. He'd make a good Auror."

"From you, that's quite high praise, Alastor. I'll keep it in mind."

"Hermione, have you noticed anything odd about Luna, lately?" Ginny asked as she flopped down on the Gryffindor-red couch. The common room was quite empty at the moment – it was just after noon and most were off elsewhere in the castle or on the grounds.

"Hmm?" Hermione said, looking up from a particularly big tome on the theory behind transfiguration – currently she was reading an essay on the merits of transfiguration for means of disguise. "Luna being odd seems to be like saying water is wet, Ginny."

"I meant more weird than usual," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Ever since that whole deal with Harry's job, she's been fuzzy and confused about it."

"It's Luna, Ginny. I don't really notice the difference in how weird she is from minute to minute."

Ginny sighed, stretching. "I just figured we should show alittle concern – I'm thinking maybe she's a bit upset about Harry leaving and doesn't really know how to deal with that."

"Y'think she likes Harry, uh, that way?" Hermione asked, eyes shining. "Competition for you?"

"Harry's not really seemed interested in either of us," Ginny admitted. "If any of the three of us caught his interest, he hasn't really shown it. I mean, everyone can see Ron going googly-eyed over you..."

Hermione's face reddened to an astonishing degree. Ginny giggled immediately.

"Oh, that's priceless!" Ginny said, smirking. "Have you done anything yet?"

"Ginny!" Hermione said, scandalized.

"C'mon Hermione, we both know that Ron's a pillock when it comes to being romantic, but he's hardly subtle about his interest in you. Harry's never done anything like that for me..."

"I've seen Dean watching you, though." Hermione reminded the little Weasley.

"I'm not really interested in Dean." Ginny said, shrugging. "Besides, have you noticed that Seamus of all people's been after Dean for a while?"

"Seamus?" Hermione asked with a gasp. "Really? I'd never have thought..."

"Eh, he seems to be an equal-opportunity type." Ginny said, walking over to the window. "I wonder if Harry's ever going to find someone. I mean, out in the Ministry he'll be one of the youngest around. He won't run into us much outside the holidays..."

"You're afraid he'll run off with some girl ten years his senior?" Hermione asked teasingly.

"I doubt it," Ginny admitted. "I'm just sorry that he is so far out of my league. I had a crush for the longest time – then he went and saved my life – and now he's off somewhere probably tackling dragons and hunting down dark wizards. Meeting other girls too, I suppose."

"Are you sure you -had- a crush, Ginny?" Hermione wondered smartly, but Ginny didn't answer.

"Where's Ron?" Ginny finally asked. "Haven't seen him the whole morning."

"He's been at the Quidditch pitch."

"What's he doing out there then? I don't think there's any training going on..."

"He's dealing with Harry leaving, I imagine," Hermione said. "I mean, Harry will be back for the weekend so he's not that distant, but I think he feels like he lost his best friend. He's probably working through that with a beater workout or something similar. Smacking around some bludgers at images of Malfoy, Iimagine."

"I figured he'd take it the hardest," Ginny said. "I mean, I've been in his little group for only a short time – Ron's his oldest friend, I think. All the way before sorting, even."

"Ron's going to get through it. He's had his jealousy phase already, he's not going to go through it again. Remember fourth year?"

"Maybe we should go and cheer him on." Ginny mused."He'd probably like to be reminded that the rest of us are still here."

"I should find myself a proper robe." Hermione mused, getting a wide grin from Ginny.

"Mister Potter?"

Harry shot up from his chair – he'd been in the waiting room for near an hour, waiting for Head Unspeakable Mirrikh to make another appearance – he would've already gotten the tour but understandably the tour guide was arranging safe housing for his family.

Harry had been going over his prescient experience in the entrance hall while he was waiting – the experience was quite different from the visions he'd received during the summer, and had gone straight through his Occlumency as if it wasn't even there. Unlike the other times, there'd been images and ideas to it – not merely pain. Still, there was something odd going on.

It had felt as if he were being controlled – Imperius curse, maybe, but not nearly as comfortable – and it had been somewhat unpleasant. The cold detached feeling he got prevented him from reacting to the whole event until after it was over – he'd been ruthlessly rational throughout the message.

That was not any divination he'd ever heard of.

"I'm sorry for keeping you waiting," said Head Unspeakable Mirrikh, looking decidedly ruffled. "I brought my wife and child to St. Mungo's. They're not hurt but they were both rather frightened by the attack."

"So it did happen, then." Harry said, sighing. "I suppose it's true, then. I've officially matched Trelawney's teaching credentials."

"It seems there's quite a bit more to you than even the Custodians figured, Mr. Potter," Mirrikh continued. "Spontaneous visions of the kind you evidently had are exceedingly rare. Being unusual hardly seems to be something you're unused to, though."

"Yeah, I've had my share of firsts already. I don't really plan on adding any new ones but I don't think I've got much of achoice in the matter."

"If you'll follow me – I'm supposed to be directing you around the Department today, but you've gone and messed up my entire plan. I'm thankful, of course." Mirrikh fidgeted with his cloak, and pulled up the hood. "This would be the waiting room – one can't leave it without at least one Unspeakable accompanying the person, and calming spells prevent violence. It's sometimes used for temporary restraint of subjects as well."

"I figure you'll get around to telling me about what you're doing around here." Harry said amusedly as he crossed the threshold back into the entrance hall. "I remember this hall spinning last time."

"Ah yes, your illegal stroll in the Department. It was quite clever to mark the doors." Mirrikh walked steadfastly over to adoor across from the one they'd just used. "All the doors are spelled to look the same to outsiders – you technically count. For employees, the various departments are easily distinguished by colouring of the door and signs."

"I imagine it's a well-kept mystery, how Unspeakables find their way?"

"You're getting into the spirit of things, I see," answered Mirrikh happily. "Security's been upgraded considerably since you were last here, so there's no chance any more of sneaking in unnoticed like you did before. Thankfully."

"Must've been quite a mess." Harry observed. "I think we broke half the Time Room in that fight. Not to mention all those prophecies."

"The prophecies, thankfully, were broken in the Prophecy room." Mirrikh said as he led Harry into a new chamber – largely empty and unused at present. "The prophecy chamber itself is spelled to retain the images of any prophecies broken so as to allow a replica to be made. As far as we are aware, only a single prophecy vanished that night because it was broken elsewhere."

Harry nodded uncomfortably, thinking back to the small sphere.

"Most of the stock of timeturners was broken by the battle in the Time Room – got a lot of people very upset, that – but ultimately we have large amounts of the things in storage so it wasn't as big a loss as it could've been."

"Hope we won't get charged for it." Harry said worriedly, as he looked at several large tarp-covered objects in the corners. "What's this room?"

"You've already been charged, Mr. Potter," Mirrikh said,"Not with money – that's not really an issue here – but with some other services."

"I don't remember anything like that," Harry began, before realizing. "Obliviation. Right."

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter – there's nothing you wouldn't do anyway. This room, incidentally, is currently not in use – it was previously nicknamed the Room of Void, but all research of nothingness has been relegated to an international consortium in Cleveland, Ohio. That's across the pond."

"So this room's up for rent?" Harry asked. "What's all this junk?"

"This room's intended to be the new centre for a small combat force," Mirrikh ventured. "Currently still in planning stages, but I figure it'll not be long in coming. Basically it'll be a small strike force trained specifically to battle relevant threats in today's society. Death Eaters, mostly."

"Don't normal Aurors do that anyway?" Harry wondered, as they passed by another large tarp-covered object that appeared to be a wooden horse of all things.

"Are you familiar with the distinction between muggle policemen and the SIS?"

"Ah." Harry said, understanding. "Moody told me about that. Aren't they foreign intelligence?"

"Indeed. Which will be one of the tasks of this group as well. Although Death Eater activity is presently limited to Great Britain, it is unlikely it will remain so isolated. Technically we can only deal with our own criminals, but British exports count."

"So the Ministry can just covertly move into another country if there's a dark wizard from Britain involved? That doesn't sound like something that those countries would enjoy."

"There's measures in place, I assure you." Mirrikh said, pointing him onwards. "I have no doubt you'll get involved with them and the normal Aurors in due time, so you can ask any questions then. I imagine you'll be pleased to know that Lord Voldemort is aviable target."

The two passed through a small poorly-lit hallway and into a very recognizable chamber – It was presently lit by several floating torches and was primarily filled with the eerily bobbing cerebellums of at least a dozen wizards.

"This would officially be called the Chamber of Thought – mostly people just call it the brain-room. These brains are from various wizards who donated their thinking organ upon their death – most of them are from historically relevant wizards who wished to leave some of their legacy behind. All of these brains aren't really sentient – they're no more so than a Dementor victim, since there's no soul – but they are somewhat responsive to stimuli."

"What do you do with them?" Harry asked, trying to keep his disgust from showing on his face – the brains were creepy and somewhat bouncy and several seemed to follow him as he walked past the tanks. Almost half were attached to some type of wire.

"They're mostly repositories of knowledge – the brain, if preserved in time, retains most of its earthly knowledge and memories, even if most personal details are quickly lost. Several famous alchemists and charms masters are represented here – their brains contain a great many spells that are not in any present-day textbooks, and which we are slowly winnowing out of them. When a brain's been completely catalogued, it is buried with the original owner, if possible."

"Whose is this?" Harry asked with fascinated horror. Asmallish brain was floating upside down in its tank, weaving back and forth on long tendrils of what appeared to be flickering images.

"Tilly Toke, if I remember correctly. A curiosity, I believe– single-handedly fought off a dragon that was preying on muggles – got an Order of Merlin and everything. I imagine partial Goblin ancestry explains the size."

"Did anyone ever tell you this is creepy beyond belief?"

"All the time, Mr. Potter. Now, this brain here -" Mirrikh tapped the glass of one of the bigger tanks that was presently closed up with a grate. "This would be the one that was so unceremoniously ripped out of its tank by your friend."

The brain in question was floating lazily, its thought tendrils surrounding it on all sides. Occasionally, it twitched.

"It is the brain of Groggan Stump, a popular Minister for Magic from the nineteenth century. It has been rather erratic since the events of last year – all of our attempts at siphoning information have failed, and it is unusually reactive to anyone approaching. It's still under research what exactly happened – the brains are kept in tanks that are resistant to charms, so it seems unlikely that your friend could summon one with ease. The brain itself may have reacted to the presence of you and your friends as well."

"I'd rather not stick around here, if you don't mind," Harry said. Several wizards were looking at Harry with suspicion – they probably suspected he'd try to summon the brains like Ron had.

"Don't worry, Mr. Potter – this won't be where you'll be working, at least for now."

"Thank Merlin for that." Harry muttered as he followed the Unspeakable out of the room.

The next room was bizarre – Harry didn't remember entering this last time around. In the centre of the room was a bright light – it was quite far away so Harry had a hard time making it out – the rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. Harry blinked vigorously to get used to the lighting as Mirrikh confidently strode onwards.

"This is the Chamber of the Cosmos – well, one of them, in any case. You'll note that gravity doesn't quite work as normal, here, if you know the activation spell." With a flick of his wand the Head Unspeakable floated off the ground gracefully. "Doesn't work anywhere else, really – the room's enchanted especially for free movement. This is a scale model of the Solar system – bar a bit of the outer edge – and it contains replicas of all the various planets and moons in appropriate orbits. Though they can be nudged around, the various parts are regularly checked to match up with actual observations."

"You said this is just one of them?" Harry said, looking wonderingly at the small rocky ball that hung lazily in the air a few feet away. It was moving, if very slowly.

"This is just a solar system one. There's a big one submerged under the ocean – even with engorged spaces like these you need at least some room – and there's one in Switzerland that's positively humongous. They're representing the galaxy and known universe respectively – at increasingly tinier scale, of course. I don't think you can actually find the sun in the Switzerland model without great magnification."

Harry walked over to where Mirrikh was floating, and could make out a largish brown circle in the distance. The floor was smooth and glossy black, reflecting the star-spangled roof in great detail. Harry was relieved that the floor, at least, was not going to send him sprawling to the floor with obstacles in his path. "Can you teach me that floating thing?"

"I suppose you don't do silent casting yet? Right. It's merely a swish with the word 'Float'. I'm not sure if it'd work with the word spoken aloud given that it's supposed to be a silent casting, but I imagine saying the word will also make you think of it.

Harry nodded, but he couldn't really see much in front of his face– Mirrikh probably had better night-eyes. He concentrated on the word Cosmos and with a start he realized he was floating upwards.

"That was easy," Harry said, as he righted himself. Mirrikh, meanwhile, merely stared.

"You managed to cast it silently? Didn't figure you could pull that off without any training- where's your wand?"

"Ah, it's... here in my pocket." Harry said, fishing it out. For a moment neither spoke.

"Well, Mr. Potter... you just managed what took me three months – a wandless, wordless spell. Congratulations. Now work on not needing a gesture and you'll be impressing quite a few people around here."

"Dumbledore's already told me I can do a bit of wandless magic," Harry said, twirling the holly wand in his fingers. "I think he's convinced that I'll pass him by someday. Can't imagine that happening – did you ever hear about the duel he and Voldemort had here in the atrium?"

"You'll need plenty of training to get that done – though I don't imagine silent or wandless casting of minor spells will be much of a problem for you if you keep this up. You remind me of Nymphadora – she's a young Auror who also picks up things incredibly quickly."

"I know Tonks," Harry said, smiling. "I should send her a mail, see if I beat her record."

"You've not even joined the Department yet, officially. Iimagine you did." Mirrikh replied dryly. "In any case – this room might be one you visit again, so remember where it is. Also, you might want to read up on your astronomy – it's relatively easy to get lost among some of the minor planetoids and the like particularly here on the outer edge. If you are totally lost, you can always head for the sun in the centre there, though Iwould advise you not to actually touch it. It's not as hot as the real thing, but warm enough. Also, the area around Earth is entirely off limits for a number of reasons – some people are thinking there's sympathetic reactions there."

"What's that?"

"It's got something to do with the way the Earth model was constructed. It's one that makes sure its accurate at all times, you see. Except, occasionally, we've seen some strange reactions when fiddling with the model and we've put it out of use for the time being. In short : someone poked a volcano in the Indian Ocean. Krakatoa."

Lord Voldemort took his place at the lengthy table with care, keeping his eye at all times on his host. Wormtail, meanwhile, scurried around looking for a bottle of elvish wine that had been requested, and vanished into a hallway. They were in the beautiful Malfoy Manor, looking out over an expansive garden in which several peacocks scurried.

Bellatrix Lestrange's high-pitched laugh could be heard from far away; she'd found the sleeping room for the house-elves and was busily entertaining herself with the panicked servants. There were several Death Eaters that had taken up residence here since their escape from the allegedly infallible prison.

"Lucius..." Voldemort hissed, his red eyes shining balefully. "You are trembling. Are you cold, perhaps? Surely the terrors of the island have not turned you senseless?"

Lucius Malfoy shivered violently, his fingers jerked randomly, his eyes darting back and forth wildly. Among those smuggled out of Azkaban, he was the most affected by the Dementors, and seemed incapable of getting himself under control like the others.

"Lucius, I am displeased with your weakness. What do you fear so very much that the Dementors would have such a fine meal in you?Look at me." Voldemort demanded. "Look at me!"

Lucius, trembling as he was, managed to force himself to meet his Master's eyes. Almost immediately he cried out in pain as the Dark Lord's Legilimency slammed into him – he stumbled back into his chair.

"Your son..." Voldemort said, wonderingly. "Such pride about your kin, Lucius! I wouldn't have thought you capable of such compassion."

"Is he... all right?" Lucius said roughly, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Is Draco... safe?"

"Draco remains at Hogwarts, where Severus will take good care of him, I'm sure. Dumbledore is not likely to act upon mere suspicions, and your son has established his position on Harry Potter rather well. He is unlikely to have problems with the other children of my servants, or any of the old man's forces." Voldemort said shrugging lightly.

"Of course, my Lord."

"I expect Draco will join you by my side before the year is out – I believe his education at Dumbledore's place is getting to an end. He could be of much use to us, I am certain."

Lucius shuddered, but he didn't reply. It was lucky that the thought he'd just had was not read from his mind.

"My Lord?" Wormtail suddenly spoke up, coming in from the hallway. "There is a letter."

Voldemort snatched the rolled up note from Peter Pettigrew's silvery replacement hand; there was an indignant squawk from the tall and proud owl that was perched on the man's shoulder. "Leave."

"My Lord," Pettigrew said as he nervously backed out into the hall. Lucius, meanwhile, had managed to stop his shaking somewhat, knowing that Draco was, at least, healthy. He'd had many dreams of horrible things happening to his son. Filthy Dementors.

"It seems, Lucius, that Wormtail may have relayed an accurate rumour, for once. This missive notes the appearance of Harry Potter – with Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour was apparently disguised as aMinistry worker but was recognized by a journalist." Voldemort sniffed loudly. "It seems the Minister is trying to boost his own popularity – he would not 'accidentally' lose a disguise."

"A ploy for re-election?" Lucius tried.

"No... He's only recently been elected after all, he does not require that quite yet. No, I'd say it is likely that Scrimgeour is looking for a sympathetic vote by the Wizengamot – about what, I don't know. Possibly the legalization of unforgivable curses, as was done before I became – indisposed."

"Why would Potter work for the Ministry?" Lucius asked hesitantly. "Fudge was never much of an ally of Dumbledore's and Potter's always gone along with that."

"Scrimgeour might not be Dumbledore's man, but he is acapable Auror and likely to work with Dumbledore rather than against him. I believe that Dumbledore initiated the contact and that some arrangement was made – perhaps Potter will receive advanced schooling in return for his public alliance with the Minister." Voldemort deliberated for a moment. "It is imperative that we have new spies in the Ministry – if Potter is going to work there, I will require frequent information on his whereabouts. It is likely that he will be more open to attack than under Dumbledore's nose."

"Of course, my Lord. Might I suggest using what contacts Ihave left?"

"If you can trust them. I am well aware of the fickle allegiances of so many. Make certain that they're informed not to approach the boy – he'll likely have minders that might notice the attention. As soon as they're certain of the boy's work-location, place an eavesdropping charm."

Lucius bowed deeply, almost grovelling. "Immediately."

Voldemort eyed the letter again, going over the elegantly formulated lines. "Oh, Mr. Potter – what a foolish mistake you have made. So very predictable."

"This would be the Room of Time – as you can see, it's currently being renovated."

The room Harry and Head Unspeakable Mirrikh entered was littered with debris – it looked barely any better than it'd had when he had last seen it. Broken timeturners were all over the floor and alarge bell-glass was upturned over a shattered table.

"I'm afraid that there's specific people for repairing these things – nobody else's even allowed to touch anything. Lots of ways to kill yourself."

"Where are the people that work here, then? It's been months..."

"I think it's more a question of when. There's arepresentative here at the moment, but he's not gotten around to assessing the damage yet. This was mostly a small repository for use rather than actual research, you see."

"Time travel. Figures. This is just going to get more confusing, isn't it?" Harry groaned. "It was worse enough in Third Year."

"I read that report. Dumbledore was completely insane to even allow it." Mirrikh grimaced. "You will find that regulation here is much more strict than you might be used to. Any variation of the timeturner is strictly controlled in use – this includes the publicly known ones and those that may or may not exist. I must be completely clear : get authorization for /everything/."

"I suppose there's a book about all these rules and such?"

"It's in your room – as we agreed, you've got a room right besides the Auror quarters – if they're too loud, make sure to put some imperturbable charms on the walls. There's a few uniforms there too – They will fit themselves to your size the first time you put them on."

"It's still really weird being here... I mean, it's only been a few days. Feels like a whole other world."

"You're in the Department of Mysteries – what did you expect?" Mirrikh said with a smirk. "You'll find that your colleagues are considerably weirder than what you'd run into at Hogwarts. We've got Necromancers, Half-Veelas, a couple Type 2Vampires, and even a few goblins. And that's just the mundane employees."

"Type 2?" Harry wondered. He didn't think he'd ever actually met a vampire, though he could recall writing an essay on the topic. "There's types?"

"Quite a few, actually." Mirrikh said. "They've got common names but the filing system uses a numerical classification system. Same for some other species, for that matter. They're basically variant strains of the same magical illness, and vampirism is just the general term for all of them." Mirrikh stroked his beard thoughtfully, pondering. "There's Nosferatu ones – ugly critters, those. One of the oldest known strains, as far as I'm aware – Type 1. Type 2 would be the most common type – sophisticated and picky, and forming their own societies. Mostly don't kill for their sustenance. There's a couple variations that can survive on animal blood as well, and one or two that are insane by their very nature. We only employ a couple of types here – Type 2's tend to be the most interested in research jobs, and they're currently the only ones here."

"No risk of being bitten?"

"There's always a risk with vampires around, but you'll probably not be too bothered by it even if one of them does get to you. They're bound by oath not to harm other employees." Mirrikh said with a shrug.

"You wouldn't count being bitten by a vampire as harmful?"

"They don't teach you much in Hogwarts these days, do you? I heard Defence teaching was abysmal..."

"We learned about vampires a few years back. Pretty sure they were talking about the crazy killer kind, though." Harry admitted. "A few people thought our Potions teacher was avampire, actually."

Mirrikh shook his head in amusement. "To answer your question : vampire bites can be harmful, but that's not a requirement. You'll find that some types of vampires have willing thralls – that is, human subjects – that voluntarily provide sustenance. It is commonly noted that Type 2's bites are rather stimulating for both parties involved."

Harry didn't quite know what to say to that. "Ah."

"Ah, indeed. As you well know, human bodies are quite capable of replenishing their blood supply – any one vampire living normally would only require two or three thralls to keep up their diet. There's also blood that's delivered elsewhere – voluntarily – for those too skittish to allow the vampire direct access to their veins. We have enough volunteers to sustain almost the entire Type 2 population of Britain."

"How did we get on the topic of blood giving again?" Harry wondered, while Mirrikh chuckled. Harry's blush wasn't going away any time soon, though.

You might not want to enter this room," Mirrikh warned, waving at a familiar-looking door as the two reached the end of yet another one of the many confusing hallways in this place. Harry was quite certain what he'd find behind it.

"The Veil room." Harry said sadly.

"Correct. The veil sets people on edge – it's mostly studied by necromancers nowadays after a string of suicides through the veil made it imperative to keep multiple people in the room at all times. After the first mutual suicide, it was decided only experts are allowed for extended periods. If you wish to skip..."

Harry ignored Mirrikh as he forced himself to push open the door. The tall and wide archway remained as imposing as it was before, even if its desolate nature was offset somewhat by several wizards in bright cheerfully coloured robes. The veil that hung beneath the archway was flapping wildly as if there was a strong wind.

"Those robes are to give the room a little colour. We've found that the veil tends to make everyone see things in grey, and the robes help stave off the demoralizing effect." Mirrikh explained. Harry gazed at the softly fluttering veil that hung in the archway, whispers escaping from just beyond hearing. It was quite alot louder than he remembered.

"Do you hear them?" Harry wondered out loud. Mirrikh got a wistful smile on his face.

"There's very few people here that can't hear them, Mr. Potter. You must realize that the whispers seem to be something breaking through of whatever's beyond the gate. Most people believe it is death."

"You're not sure?" Harry wondered, glancing sideways."I've read a few bits about it – allegedly it's a one-way passage to the afterlife."

"That is what it's traditionally considered to be, yes. It's been here for as long as the Ministry has been – nobody dared move it from its position and most of the Ministry was built around and on top of it. It was once used as a method of euthanasia for the world-weary, and later as a means of execution – it's from that time that the amphitheatre stems. Over fifteen hundred years ago – well before even Hogwarts was established."

"Is it used for anything now?"

"Only research. It's not one-of-a-kind, if you're wondering. As far as we're currently aware, four have been found. They're each similar in design but different in detail. The current behaviour – wild activity – is as far as we are aware relatively unique – there's not yet a good explanation."

"May I... approach?" Harry asked nervously, gripping his wand. He didn't quite know why he needed to see where Sirius had died– he just felt a duty to at least face up to it.

At the Unspeakable's reluctant nod Harry shuffled forward, joining the half dozen brightly-clad wizards that were carrying around bells of all things and were all equipped with notepads. The veil began flapping more wildly and several stood up in response.

"Am I...?" Harry asked, but he got no answer. Mirrikh was standing rooted to the floor, looking rather unwell. Harry stepped a little closer, and the veil reacted violently – it lashed out and one wizard was barely capable of evading the deadly veil – Harry stumbled back quickly and the veil calmed down to its former state. "I suppose I am."

"Curious." Mirrikh said, seemingly recovered. "For a moment there I thought you were going to walk straight into the thing. I was going to pull you back but I couldn't get myself moving!Best we leave the room – Now!"

Harry and Mirrikh quickly made their way out of the room – all of the Unspeakables in their yellow and red and green robes were looking after them, while others were furiously writing.

"Another confusing data point." Mirrikh murmured, as the two walked into the adjacent hallway and walked straight into a large museum-like area filled with precious objects.

"What was that about?" Harry demanded; Mirrikh sighed.

"The Veil has been known to react to some people with – volatile power. Your Headmaster is one of them. As far as we know it's not magical power that's triggering it, but something unrelated– we're still trying to figure it out."

"It didn't do that the last time I was near it," Harry pointed out. "I mean, We were all there – and a bunch of Death Eaters – and as far as I'm aware, it was even calmer than it was when we first entered."

"I don't believe it's anything necessarily special about you that's triggering it," Mirrikh allowed. "We're talking aveil older than British magery itself – who knows what sets it off? It might well react to some obscure combination of past events that you and Dumbledore share. Whatever happened to trigger this behaviour must've been recent."

"You don't suppose it's Sirius trying to come back?" Harry asked incredulously. "I mean, he fell through it..."

"Sirius Black, the criminal? Right, he was innocent or something along those lines, right? I remember that. You probably don't, though," the Unspeakable smiled slightly. "It was on your birthday, if I recall, that we discussed it. You were rather friendly with me, that day."

"I hate obliviators." Harry murmured, rubbing his head."Never can know if you've already met someone or if they're your best friends that someone carelessly lifted straight out of your head."

"You'll be glad to know that all official obliviation within the Department of Mysteries is done on a tentative basis – generally speaking you will remember relevant details unless they're harmful, and it is possible to lock away memories at one's convenience should one ever be captured and interrogated. It's all in your manual."

Harry looked around the expansive hall they were now in - it was probably the most fascinating hall thus far, since it was stuffed to the top with all sorts of items and artefacts, most of them with actual labels. The closest was a peculiar red ring on a bed of satin, encased in a glass box.

"Ah, that." Mirrikh said uncomfortably. "That's what's considered a cursed ring. It's been used a few times - I'm afraid none of those using it returned intact. It appears to be aparticularly powerful focus for apparition - it allows cross-ward passage, in any case - but it does seem to be rather flawed, It's more or less indestructible so after each use it turned up a decade or two later, somewhere on the other side of the plent. Usually in ablackened crater with the remains of a body still attached."

Harry gulped as he studied the beautiful ring with a small snake biting its own tail in the center, making a figure 8 on its side -the symbol for infinity. "These are all cursed items?"

"It's not actually cursed - the charm is simply flawed. It's being kept for study since it's one of the only known objects that can force apparition straight through even the strongest known magical barriers. It's just... lethal when it does so."

"Bit of a drawback there." Harry muttered dryly.

"Yes, well, this is why we do research." Mirrikh grimaced slighly as he walked past the ring. "There's plenty of interesting things here - most of them are well protected though, so I wouldn't try nabbing any of these. Even if you could get your hand on something, Aurors would be here within seconds."

"I'm not stupid enough to commit suicide by putting on acursed ring of all things." Harry muttered. "Is Hedwig in my room? I want to write a letter or two, tell them what I can."

"Sure, sure. About that... I was to deliver these to you." Mirrikh handed over two official-looking missives.

"The first, there, is an agreement. You'll have to write it with a drop of blood – Read it first, of course. It's mostly secrecy stuff. It's rather binding, I'm afraid – but that's to be expected."

"I figured I was over this with Umbridge," Harry muttered.

"The other one is an invitation from the Custodians of the Hall of Prophecy. I don't believe you have to be a Seer to know why."

"Tomorrow, I imagine?"

"Of course. I believe you will start in the Cosmos Room – you've already got the floating figured out, after all – and we'll shuffle you around after that to find a good spot for you. It'll just be for getting used to the work and the people." Mirrikh explained.

"Am I allowed to explore?"

"As long as you stay out of the obvious places – I'd not get too near that veil again, or the broken timeturners – of course. I'm sure you'll meet some of your colleagues as well. I'll be found in my office, which should be easily found after you sign that first letter, there."

"I suppose you could point me to my room, then – I'll have to get settled in."

Ron lowered himself slowly to the pitch, Ginny right beside him. Hermione, of course, had passed on actually going any height with abroom, though she was hovering a few feet above the ground.

"Do you feel better, now?" Ginny asked, smiling, holding on to the two bludgers beneath her arms which were squirming to get out.

"Much. I didn't know you had me all figured out." Ron said, blushing.

"Don't look at me," Ginny said with a smirk, jumping off her broom and heading off to lock up the bludgers.

"I thought you could use some company," Hermione said as she slowly dared rising to Ron's level.

"Thanks, Hermione. I suppose I need to focus a bit on other things. Harry was a bit in the middle of my life, I suppose."

"Probably you could use a bit of a time-out." Hermione said, smiling. "Maybe now you can do some of your own thinking for a change."

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, laughing.

Albus Dumbledore was looking on from his tall tower, eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. Things might just be turning out for the best. A small white owl swooped by the window, a small brown envelope tied in its claws.

"Change always comes bearing gifts." the old wizard mumbled, smiling.

Author's Note : Several references, as usual.

Dumbledore's last quote is from Prince Pritchett.

'Voldie' is a reference to the popular shortening of Voldemort's name in various fanfics.

There's a minor reference to Necromancers from another fantasy series - it should ring a bell. ;)

Yes, that was a jab at Dumbledore for putting on the Gaunt Ring, the shortsighted idiot. The Ring in question is an Obvious Item of Interest. You'll find that the Department of Mysteries actually has someone who takes care of these items - Angus McGuffin. ;)