Auror Progression

1. Combat Class

Rated: PG for violence and mild language

"Harry, wake up!" Jonathan groaned as he shook Harry awake. "You'll be late for our first class!" But Harry didn't stir. Jonathan sighed, shook his head, then grabbed his book bag and left the room.

Harry pushed himself up a few inches and stretched his arms forward like a cat. He yawned tiredly, rolled over on his back, and opened his eyes.

It was the first day. It had been so long since his last first day of school; when he first started Hogwarts he was nervous and jittery, worried about being sorted and not knowing enough or anything for that matter, about the magical arts. How different life was now.

Harry eventually got himself up, replaced his new glasses on his face, and moseyed himself into the bathroom. There was an unusually large mirror directly in front of the doorway, and for some reason it startled Harry to see his reflection so abruptly. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't help but feel as if someone other than himself was staring through the mirror. He smiled as he approached it, opening his mouth to examine his teeth. He exhaled on its surface and wrote his initials in the mist. He chuckled to himself then wiped it away with the sleeve of his loose sweatshirt.

Harry had half expected a radical change in his physique over the summer, but nothing had really changed. He was much taller than he had been; just over six feet tall, but he was still too thin for his own liking. Ron and his brothers had each gained muscular weight and were keen to show it off to one another, comparing biceps and arm wrestling, but Harry couldn't boast about anything. At least he had muscle, that was something. 'Course, the only people who knew he had muscle was him; a passerby couldn't guess it unless he or she had seen what was under his clothes, and he certainly wasn't going to show them.

He had his hair trimmed a few days ago, though it wasn't obvious; it was still as untidy as usual. Harry pulled back his bangs to look at his clean, bare forehead; a strangely pleasant site.

He had to examine it each morning for some reason, as if checking that Voldemort's scar was still gone. Its absence was the only sure sign that Voldemort was dead and gone once and for all. He, Harry, hadn't even noticed that it had vanished; it was Hermione who pointed it out to him. At first he wasn't sure how he felt about it, not being there that is. After all, it had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. But as the days went by and Voldemort was, well, quite dead, it suddenly hit Harry that life before the scar had to have been better, so why shouldn't it be the same for after?

But he had to cut his reminiscing short; today was the first day. He dressed comfortably, per instruction on the form; a loose t-shirt and black exercise pants. Then he swung his book bag on his back and made his way for Beowulf Arena for his first class.

The Arena was situated at the far end of campus and as Harry noted the time he realized that making the journey by foot would cause tardiness. So, being all legal now, he Disapparated.

The Beowulf Arena was an immense building which roughly resembled a very large stone box. At first Harry was disappointed by its outward appearance; it was so boring and plain. But when he took a step inside, his feeling of dissatisfaction ebbed away.

A white stone archway with the message pax in bello carved into it led to a huge room with a tall ceiling, where several classes were congregated. Most of the floor, save some walkways, were padded. There were championship flags all along the walls signifying which residential house or year had won competitions in the past. To put it simply, the Arena was like a modern day school gym but on steroids.

He ambled over to the youngest bunch of students who he assumed were first years like him. There were about fifteen of them, including his roommate, Jonathan, all huddled together but not talking with each other. Harry set down his bag and walked over to join them.

"Is this hand to hand combat?" he asked the crowd. Some of them turned to him and nodded. "Okay," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. About a third of the group were girls, none of them physically attractive, he noted quickly. "Is this the entire class?" he asked.

A few of them raised their shoulders at him, but didn't verbally answer. Harry noticed that a few of his classmates, the males, were dressed in order to flaunt their muscular prowess. There was a tall man with very short hair, like a military cut, standing a few feet from Harry. He wore a very tight black tank top and running shorts. His entire body was rippling with muscle. Harry shook his head and looked away.

"Good morning first year Aurors in training," a bald wizard said. He had kind eyes, a deep, rough voice, and a whistle around his neck. "I'm Professor Wes, but you can just call me coach," he said. He pulled a clipboard to his attention and started to call attendance. They very burly student went by the last name of Everett. Harry only took notice because he yelled out "Here," so loudly that the other classes in the Arena all looked at him peculiarly.

"Potter," Wes called automatically.

"Yeah," Harry said with a slight inclination of his head when Wes looked up at him. His eyes lingered on Harry longer than any other student, but he didn't make a great fuss about it. Once everyone was accounted for, the professor began his routine diatribe while passing out the class syllabus.

"Now, many students ask why we learn so many physical defense techniques, right? I mean we're Aurors, we're supposed to learn magic. Well that's a good point but it has happened once or twice that Aurors are either up against Muggles, in which case using magic against them or in front of them is a crime, or your enemy might render you defenseless. Now instead of just standing there like an idiot while the dark wizard has your wand or the Muggle attacks you, you can do something about it. Not only that, but we want you all in fit condition because this job demands it. You will never lay eyes on an Auror who's little more than a fat tub of lard."

Harry laughed as he thought of Dudley.

"The purpose of this class is to give you a basic understanding of hand to hand combat. Next year you will learn Judo and or Jujitsu, the Japanese martial arts."

Several of the students smiled and nodded their heads in enthusiasm. Harry smiled but bit his lip.

"Now I'm the head coach, okay, but your instructor will teach you the motions. Let me introduce him to you," he said, signaling with his hand to a man in his middle thirties with dark curly hair, a square jaw, and uneven eyes. He looked to Harry like the stereotypical bad guy, complete with a sinister edge. He did not smile to the class.

Harry heard Everett mumble exactly what Harry was thinking. "Someone takes their job too seriously." Of course the instructor heard it and took issue.

"Something you would like to share with me?" he asked in a eerily silent voice in the spirit of Snape.

"No sir," Everett replied.

"Very well," he returned. Wes continued as if there were no interruption. He introduced the instructor as James Steel, with the nickname of 'Major Steel' because supposedly he was the best and strongest man in the world, by the sound of it. Harry thought the nickname was very primary school and stupid. He was also surprised that Steel was even an Auror, for he didn't give off waves of intelligence or great skill.

When Coach Wes finished his speech and had thoroughly covered the class aims, he turned and left the group with the instructor, who crossed his arms and surveyed the class over his nose.

"Well," he drawled superiorly, "I don't mind saying that this is the most pathetic group I have had the displeasure of teaching. But by the time I am finished with you..."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You," Steel said to him, pointing him out of the crowd. "Is there some sort of problem?" he asked. The entire class turned to see Harry.

"Not a great one, no," he answered with a slight smirk.

"But there is a problem?" Steel said, one of his uneven eyes bulged slightly. "Please, share with the class your opinion."

Harry folded his hands behind his back and took a step forward. "I just think that statement is overused and terribly lame," he said simply.

Everett, who was now standing next to Harry, turned his laugh into a hacking cough. Apparently that was a mistake because now Steel focused on him.

"And you, did you think that was amusing?"

"No sir," Everett replied.

Steel paced toward him and beckoned him forward with his finger. Everett glanced around at his other classmates then stepped out of the group somewhat nervously.

Then Steel threw a punch at Everett, causing him to sway. The entire class gasped.

"Fight back," Steel commanded Everett. "Don't be afraid to hurt me," he said with an evil smile.

Everett regained composure and swung his fist at Steel, but missed. Steel ducked then struck his opponent in the stomach, then his jaw. Everett staggered backward a little, but kept after Steel.

Now the once silent class was cheering their classmate on. But it didn't help him much. In ten seconds Everett was on the ground, breathing heavily and Steel was looking very satisfied.

"Get up and don't interrupt me again," he spoke silently. Everett rubbed his jaw and fell back with the rest of the class.

"I do not appreciate interruptions, unnecessary laughter, or cheek in this class," he said to the group. "In this class I am the leader, is that clear? I am the dictator and I will tell you what to do."

"Isn't that what a dictator does?" Harry asked. Steel wheeled around and beckoned Harry forward. He sighed and did as requested.

"What is your problem?" he asked.

Harry made his lips thin. "Can't you come up with something original to say? I think the term you just used is begging the question. A dictator dictates orders, so saying you're a dictator then telling us you'll order us around is incredibly redundant." Harry heard the rest of the class take in breath.

Steel narrowed his eyes at Harry and rubbed his chin. "What's your name?" he asked.

"First, last, middle, or mother's maiden?" Harry said.

Everett laughed again, but this time Steel took no notice. He frowned at Harry and stared into his eyes.

"You need a lesson in manners, young man," Steel said calmly, but loud enough for the rest to hear. "Do not cross my path or I will make your life hell."

Harry raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the left. "You have that kind of power? Wow, and I just thought you were an instructor." Harry smiled at him.

"Your last name please," Steel said evenly.

"Potter," Harry replied. "Yes," he continued as Steel opened his mouth, "that one."

"Impressive," Steel said coolly with half a smile.

"What is? The name or that I guessed your next question?" Harry asked.

"I'm going to make you a deal. If you can beat me in my own game then I will pass you and you can spend this hour however you wish. But if I win, you will not only start off every morning with a three mile run, refer to me as sir, and prepare and fetch my coffee, but you will also clean this building with a toothbrush once a month for the rest of the year."

Harry gave him a look of mild curiosity. "Is that so?"

"I suggest you just keep your mouth shut and learn, but if you wish to make a mockery of yourself, then be my guest. Wand waving is one thing, Potter, combat is another."

Harry laughed. "There you go with the obvious again. All right, I'll fight you. Care to set any rules?"

Steel grinned, his eyes crinkled. "No rules. Perhaps you should let one of the women hold your glasses. I'd hate to break them."

No one laughed at his joke. Harry stepped away from the group and walked around Steel.

"Now, class," Steel said as he stretched his arms and watched Harry, "the first thing you need to learn is to control your emotions. Anger will only cause you a slip which could bring you loss. Secondly the correct form. Hit straight across--" he said with a hard punch to the side of Harry's face. "Put all your energy into it," he remarked in stride as Harry turned his head back. "You want to have your feet squared so don't lose your balance."

Harry kept his calm but didn't let Steel hit him so easily the next time he tried. Harry ducked when Steel tried for him.

"Fast learner," he said to Harry. Harry didn't respond. "I didn't hurt you, did I? It was only a small hit," he said lightly.

Harry walked toward him, raised his clenched fists, and went for his opponent, but Steel beat him to it by kneeing Harry in the gut and casting him to the padded ground. The class heaved with Harry.

"Go for their weaknesses," Steel told them. Then he bent down to grab Harry by the shoulders. When his fingers were clenched on him, he said, "And Potter, I like de-caf with two sugar cubes, bright and early."

But Harry was through with games. While still on his back, he thrust his foot in Steel's chest, knocking him back several feet. Harry got himself up and continued the attack.

"De-caf, eh?" Harry said as he decked Steel so hard, his nose cracked and began to bleed. "Can't take the strong stuff?" Harry jumped in the air and kicked Steel once with his left, then his right as he came back down to earth. Now his lip and nose were bleeding heavily. "Personally," Harry said, striking the stomach, "I like sleeping in on my Mondays. Get your own damn coffee."

Steel made a growling sound and tried ramming Harry, but he simply stepped to one side and let Steel pass him by.

"We're not getting angry, are we?" Harry said. "Because we might lose if we let our anger take over."

Then things got really nasty. Steel came after Harry with all he had and made contact several times, leaving a nasty cut just above Harry's eye, and a possible bruise on his chest. But of the two, Steel was looking far worse. It even got to a point that the other classes in the Arena stopped what they were doing and formed a circle around Harry and Steel. Everett then started an immature chant for Harry, which caught on like wildfire.

Perhaps it was because Steel couldn't handle the repetitive "Potter" that everyone was yelling, or that Harry found his weakness, but Steel finally fell to the ground after three fast kicks in the gut.

The large crowd fell silent. Heaving and wiping blood from his eye, Harry moved toward the conquered instructor.

He looked up at Harry, his face quite swollen, from the flat of his back. Harry stepped close to him and looked down on his victim and spoke to him softly.

"Your weakness is arrogance," he said. Harry reached down his hand to pull the instructor up, but Steel didn't allow it. "The most dangerous thing anyone can do," Harry continued coolly, fully aware that everyone was hanging on his words, "is to underestimate me. Do you understand that? A much more powerful wizard than you died because of it."

He stood up straight, looked around the group, then walked toward the exit. Five students moved out of his way and made a path. He picked up his book bag, slung it over his shoulder, and left Beowulf Arena leaving whispers of praise and suspicion behind him.