Chapter 1
Seventeen years ago, Tom Riddle entered the home of Lily and James Potter in Godric’s Hollow. It’s quiet and dark inside. His breath echoes in his ears. Ahead, down the hallway, a puddle of robes blocks the entry to a door. As Tom reaches the body, he looks down, expecting to see James Potter looking back with blank eyes. Instead, it’s the cold blue of Albus Dumbledore that meets his own.
Inside the door, the Potters sit together. The redheaded mother holds a baby in her arms and clutches him closer as she sinks back into a creaky rocking chair. Two pairs of matching green eyes look at him. James’ face grows tense. Tom stops two feet away.
“Riddle,” Lily Potter starts, then stops uncertainly. Her face wavers toward her husband. He looks determined. “Why have you come?” She finally asks.
Tom looks at the baby. “You know why.” He shuffles a step closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the prophecy’s subject, but James holds a hand up.
“Tell us anyway.”
Deep breath. “I need to know. Is it true?”
The parents look at one another briefly. Lily comes to terms with her decision and nods. James steps aside.
Tom draws closer, the air fragile and fraught with terror, tension, who knows what. The baby is covered by a linen blanket, face not quite visible until its mother shifts a fold out of the way, and he can see.
A mark on the forehead. A perfect bolt of lightning, cartoonish in shape, the color of ripe chokecherries. He takes a breath in slowly and lifts a shaking finger toward it. They do not attempt to stop him.
The prophecy said it would be painful. He knows not pain until he rests the tip of his finger upon the baby’s head. It's screaming, gasping, crawling through his body until his eyes roll back and he falls to the floor.
Seventeen years later, Harry Potter wakes up in the bungalow in Godric’s Hollow. He slaps a hand down on the muggle alarm clock that trills brightly into the early morning air and groans his way into a semi-standing position next to his twin bed. Next door, he hears his mother bustling around.
“Harry! Breakfast! It’s almost time to leave,” she calls.
He makes his way into the kitchen. Best not to ignore her for long, or she would wake him up herself, and that was never fun. He brushes a curl of dark hair from his eyes and readjusts his glasses, then sits at the weathered dining table. A plate of food flies out to meet him there, silverware trailing behind. The front door opens behind him, and he looks back to see his father, dressed in his Ministry Potioneer robes. Another night shift.
“Morning dad,” Harry says around a slice of toast. “How’s work?”
James sits across from him. “Oh, alright. Had to make a few potions for the DMAC. A few muggles got ahold of some transfiguring potions, and they needed antidotes. Otherwise, a calm night. How about you? Excited for the interview?” He asked, fiddling with a plate of eggs.
“Oh…er, yeah. I've got twenty minutes still to get ready. Actually, would you mind going with me? I've never been to the Department of Magical Employment before...” Harry trails off. That he's nervous goes unspoken.
His dad nods. “No problem. Let me know when you're ready, I’ll just get a shower in before we go.” He rises from his seat at the table. The eggs are untouched.
Harry eats his breakfast slowly. His nerves are at an all-time high, and he can't say he doesn't know why.
Today is the day he will receive his job placement. It's a combination of aptitude tests, interviews, and ranked choice which culminates in an invitation to join a specific department of the Ministry or a recommendation letter to an outside entity. It's also the most terrifying moment of his life.
His school friends Ron and Hermione have already received their placements, back on their birthdays. They started working a week after graduating from Hogwarts, giving them barely enough time to get settled into life outside of school before work took over their lives. Ron works in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an assistant barrister, and he’s training to get his license to practice law. Hermione had been delegated to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, where she deals with passports and international relations.
It all seems like quite a bit of work to Harry, who has been hoping to be recommended for a job outside of the Ministry. There’s no telling where he’ll go though.
A timer rings in the kitchen, and his mother appears in the doorway. “Harry, it's 8:30. Good luck darling and be ready to celebrate tonight!” She places a kiss on his temple as he passes her to go to his room and get dressed. When he’s ready, he makes his way to the front door where his father waits.
“Ready?” James asks, arm outstretched. Harry nods resolutely and takes hold, bracing himself for the pushing-pulling of apparition to surround him.
They're spit out in the apparition room next to the atrium. As they leave and join the crowd of people in the huge space, Harry catches a glimpse of the golden statue that rises above them. The Minister’s face seems to be looking directly at him, imposing and handsome at the same time. Harry looks away, cheeks hot.
The two Potters enter one of the lifts to the left of the statue. Its gate slams shut behind them and they squeeze in next to a tall blonde man with a cane.
Harry watches his father school his face into a neutral expression and incline his head to the man. “Lord Malfoy. How is your son?”
The man nods back, face blank as well. “Lord Potter. He’s well. He just started in his new position a few weeks ago. How is yours?”
James steps out of the way so Harry is visible. “He’s actually on his way to the testing rooms now. Ah, here we are. Good to see you.” He steers Harry out of the lifts as Lord Malfoy bids them farewell and relaxes once they are out of sight of the blond man. They stop next to an unassuming oak door.
“Alright then Harry, I’ll wait outside. Good luck and I’m proud of you.” They hug briefly before he pushes Harry toward the door.
Inside he finds a waiting room. It looks like the one in St. Mungo, where they wait when his dad visits his former friend Peter in the psychiatric ward, but less sterile. An oil painting of a dark forest hangs on one wall across from an empty reception desk. Harry decides to sit in a chair under the painting. He looks down at his fingers awkwardly while he waits.
Ten minutes later, a dark-haired wizard enters the room from a door behind the desk and startles. He picks up a piece of paper and reads off Harry’s first name. “Here for your aptitude testing?”
Harry nods, and the man picks up his wand. A silvery mist erupts from the end, and he speaks into it. “Harry J. Potter has arrived for placement.” The mist floats through the wall as soon as he finishes speaking, and the man begins to scribble on what looks like a stack of paperwork. Harry stares at the wall next to him, stomach twisting.
He jumps in his seat when a door appears from thin air and the receptionist looks at him. “Go on in. The examiner will meet you inside.”
Harry rises from his chair slowly. When he arrives at the ornate door, he pauses nervously, then twists the handle and enters. It’s like entering another world. Paper airplanes fly overhead, hallways stretch out in all directions (including diagonally), and people pass without looking at him.
One witch stops next to Harry. “Hello, Mr. Potter. I’m Emma, your examiner. Follow me to the testing room.” She leads him down a hallway to the left for a few minutes before they arrive at a set of four doors, all labeled ‘Testing Room.’ She opens the first one on their left and gestures for him to enter.
He croaks out a thank you and coughs to get his voice back from being quiet for so long. He is guided to sit in an uncomfortable chair on one side of a metal table in the center of the room, and Emma takes the seat across from him.
“How are you today, Mr. Potter?” She asks.
He blinks a little in surprise that they aren’t immediately beginning the aptitude testing but responds anyway. “I’m okay. A little nervous. And you?”
The ginger woman smiles at him. Her shirt is dark purple with white polka dots, and a gold necklace with an odd symbol on it catches his eye when it glints in the harsh lighting. “Good, good. No need to be nervous. Now, Mr. Potter, we’re going to be doing a few tests to determine your magical and mundane strengths today. Just stuff like logical thinking, magical power levels. Nothing terrible. First, I’d like to examine your wand. Is that alright with you?” She asks.
Harry draws his wand out of its holder and places it on the table. It’s eleven inches long, made of holly wood, with a phoenix feather core. He’d gotten it at the age of thirteen when all children received their wands. According to his dad and mom, the age requirement had been eleven when they were younger, but the Minister had changed it to allow for several years of theoretical instruction when he was elected.
Emma takes the wand and turns it over in her hands several times. "A very nice wand. Do you use it often?" She writes down some details on a small notepad next to her, but he can't make them out.
"I mean, yeah. Sometimes I don't need it to cast spells. Just depends on the day."
She nods and slides it back toward him. "Interesting. Alright then, are you ready to begin the testing?" At his nod, she stands and waves her own wand. A thick stack of papers appears in front of him. "Just fill those out to the best of your ability. Just say 'done' when you're finished and I'll come back in to conduct the interview." With that, Emma walks out through the door and leaves him alone.
The questions are simple enough. He answers about his favorite classes, what he enjoys doing, and even silly things like his favorite animal. Towards the end are some short answer questions that he tries his best to fill out. One in particular stumps him for several minutes.
287. Do you want to meet your soulmate? Why or why not? What are your ideal values in a soulmate?
He takes a little time to think, then jots down a few words and moves on. It's a little weird to ask about such a private matter as soulmates, but it is the magical government. It makes sense they would want to know your values and be able to find your match in the soulmate registry much faster.
The 300th question is another difficult one, and he places the pencil down next to the packet with a relieved sigh when he finally finishes writing. "Done."
Emma re-enters the room. "Ah! How did it go?" She asks him while waving her wand over the packet. It disappears with a small popping noise.
“Hopefully well. None of the questions were too hard.”
He watches her brow furrow, but the witch doesn’t comment on her apparent concern. Instead, she summons her notepad back into her hand.
“That’s great, Mr. Potter. Are you ready to begin the interview section?” Her hand is poised over the lined paper, ready to write down his responses. At his nod, she begins to fire questions at him with no reprieve. Finally, she trails off. "Alright then, Mr. Potter. I guess it's time for the physical skills testing. I'm going to get a few things set up, so I'll have someone else come in to go over your aptitude test results in a few minutes." With that, she exits the room again.
A few moments later, the receptionist from before pops his head in. "Mr. Potter? I've got your results. You did extremely well on the test. In fact..." he trails off, looking down at the packet in his hand solemnly. "This is the second-best anyone has ever performed on our aptitude exam."
Harry's brows shoot up and his mouth drops. "Wait, what? You're joking, right?" He sits up straighter in the chair and makes to reach for the paper but stops himself at the look on the man's face.
"Erm, no, I'm not. This is a very good achievement. In fact, it's nearly impossible. Um...which means that you've caught some...attention. Would you come with me quickly?"
His heart skips a beat. Attention? All he wanted was to be placed in a boring job outside of the Ministry where he could devote his extra time to things like quidditch and potion-making. This makes it seem a lot less likely that that will happen. Harry rises from his seat slowly and follows the receptionist toward the door with sweaty palms. Outside, the halls remain the same. They begin walking left again and eventually arrive at a dead end with just one door. It’s fancier than any other he’s seen so far, with a frosted glass window adorning its middle. The words ‘Department Head’ are engraved into a nameplate just below the window.
The receptionist knocks, then steps aside. From inside, Harry hears a voice call for them to enter. He looks at the receptionist, but the wizard just gestures for him to enter without making a move to follow.
He is greeted by another witch. She looks familiar, but he can’t quite place her face. Maybe he’s seen her in the news recently? His eyes catch on another nameplate on her desk.
“Mr. Potter. Nice to meet you in the flesh. I’m Doctor Victoria Edgecombe. I believe you know my daughter, Marietta?” The woman’s curly mane reminds him of Hermione’s, if a little lighter, and she looks astonishingly similar to his old quidditch rival Cho’s best friend now that he’s been made aware of the relationship.
Harry grasps Dr. Edgecombe’s outstretched hand and shakes it, then sits down across from her. The chair is much more comfortable than the testing room’s. He looks around briefly, trying to figure out what to say. He settles on, “You have a lovely office.”
The doctor thanks him and then hands over a copy of his test. He looks down at the score written across the top, back up. “Are you sure this is right? Not that I’m complaining. I just…I don’t think this is completely accurate. I’m not that smart,” he says with a lopsided half-smile.
She smiles at him. It’s not exactly comforting. She has a very cutthroat demeanor (again, very similar to Marietta). “Oh, Mr. Potter, the Department of Magical Employment does not make mistakes. You are much brighter than you believe. And that brilliance is exactly what one of our…lesser-known…departments is looking for in a new employee.” She pauses for a moment and reaches for a folder on the edge of her well-organized desk. “You see, this department is very, very selective. They only take those who score above 290 on the aptitude test, and even then the possible recruits must pass a separate interview and undergo a rigorous training programme.” Dr. Edgecombe opens the folder and removes a thick sheet of paper, which she hands to him.
Dear Mr. Harry James Potter,
We of the Department invite you to join us for a secondary interview following your placement testing. The interview will occur ONE HOUR following the end of your aptitude exam in COURTROOM ONE. Please arrive promptly before noon today and wait next to the door. A member of the department will escort you inside when we are prepared to meet with you.
Good luck and we look forward to meeting with you.
The Department