Auror Progression

3. Sex, Drugs, and Rock‘n Roll

“Hello, Harry,” she said in a low whisper, licking chocolate sauce from her pinky finger. She was dressed scantily in black, her red curly hair fell about her shoulders and into her heavy lidded eyes that beckoned him closer.

            Harry found himself walking toward her, but she was tiptoeing back toward her bedroom, grinning at the chase. She dipped her finger into a cup and sucked on it as she continued back. “You want a taste?” she asked him.

            She backed into the wall and waited there for him. He approached her slowly, slipped his hands around her waste and leaned in for her lips… when there was an obnoxious loud ring in his ear.

            Harry opened his eyes and instinctively bashed the alarm clock on his bed stand.

            Jonathan, Harry’s quirky roommate, was already dressed and examining his face in the mirror.

            “What were you dreaming?” he asked with a half smile, looking at Harry’s reflection.

            Harry rubbed his face and eyes then yawned, but didn’t answer.

            “Piper again?” Jonathan continued.

            Harry sat up and scratched his head then reached for his trousers across the room, which didn’t come to him.

            “Bullocks,” he mumbled as he threw his blankets off himself and trudged to the other side of the room and put on his trousers.

            “It’s just a fluke,” Jonathan assured as he started to collect his bag for class. “You’ll have it all back in a few weeks.”

            “That’s what you’ve been saying for months,” Harry said as he pulled on a wrinkled t-shirt. “Somehow I don’t think it will.”

            Harry’s extraordinary powers, which according to Dumbledore no other known wizard possessed in such quantity, had disappeared and had never returned. Harry had been able to summon things to him and levitate items without the use of his wand, and he’d been physically stronger than anyone he knew, even though he didn’t look it. Harry had been so strong, in fact, that he beat up James Steel on the first day of class. But not long after that, all of his power was gone. He was just an ordinary, mediocre, run-of-the-mill wizard. So far he didn’t like it.

            The past few months at Auror training proved difficult. Harry had to work harder, it seemed, than everyone else in his class just to get by. Sure, he could still do magic with his wand, but not like he could before. Harry didn’t understand why exactly he couldn’t perform, he just knew he was unable to do so.

            But it didn’t keep him from trying.

            Harry would spend every waking moment practicing defensive spells, practical charms, and reading up on techniques. He frequently visited Dumbledore in hopes that he could assess and diagnose the real problem. But he couldn‘t.

            Dumbledore had said that Harry’s magical source had “dried up.” Harry didn’t buy the theory at that time, but as the months ticked by and he was still magically impotent, he started to believe it.

            So just what was Harry’s source of power? Dumbledore theorized that Harry received his power from Lily, who had essentially donated her power to him in order to save him and protect him from Voldemort. Now that Voldemort was gone, her power was no longer required. Since it was technically borrowed…it vanished.

            But there had to be more to it than that, Harry would think as he could wave his wand like everyone else. There just had to be a way to get it all back.

            He read his way through many volumes of magic books, had talked to the so-called experts, and had even consulted Hermione about it, but to no avail.

            “Some things just leave us, Harry,” Hermione would say casually as she devoured a new book to be published soon.

            “What have you lost?” Harry asked her curiously.

            Hermione looked up at him and shrugged. “I never had your abilities.”

            “Exactly. What’s happened to me would be like you not being able to read. Can’t you see the importance here?”

            She nodded in an almost uncaring way and tried to look sympathetic. “Maybe your taking this the wrong way. This way you won’t stand out so much. You won’t receive as much attention like you have been. Don’t you want to be like everyone else?” she asked.

            Harry had pondered her question for weeks after she’d posed it. He even thought of it now as he pulled on his cloak and swung his book bag over his shoulder. Did he want to be like everyone else?

            Harry Disapparated to his first class that morning, Dueling Basics, and continued to consider his precarious situation. But his musings were cut drastically short by the entrance of Piper O’Flannery, the instructor’s assistant.

            Harry found that whenever Piper waltzed into the room his shirt seemed to shrink and would choke him. The temperature in the room rose and he began sweating. Rourke also pointed out that Harry’s pupils would dilate. Harry denied it, though he wasn’t sure how he could prove otherwise as he could never really see his own pupils expand... But these signs seemed to be obvious to everyone else in the class, even Piper.

            Instuctor Rowan was no different this morning than in the past. Like every other day, Rowan began his class by clearing his throat, hacking out a cough, then would take roll. He hastily called out the names then tossed his clipboard down and began his lecture. Harry stepped forward into the crowd of his fellow students and watched Piper as she meddled in Rowan’s equipment trunk. When she pulled out a few wands she caught Harry’s eye and smirked. Harry smiled back at her; he started sweating.

            “So partner up and practice!” Rowan ended grouchily.

            Rourke, Jonathan, and Harry usually traded off as they practiced. Harry found the entire class to be completely pointless. The course could have been done in a week, but since Harry only had this class once a week for only an hour, he had to take it all year. He was bored by the content of the class, but not by Piper, which was the only reason his attendance for this class was perfect.

            “Come on, lover boy,” Rourke whispered as he pulled Harry to a corner of the room. “You don’t have a chance with an older woman anyway.”

            Harry smirked to himself, yanking his eyes away from Piper. “I have a good a chance as anyone,” Harry said to him. He withdrew his wand from his pocket and backed up a few paces as Rourke did the same.

            “If that was true you would have her by now. Not a person in this room is clueless to how you feel about her. Every morning we’re in here I have to pick up your eyes and push them back into your head. Besides, you’ve tried proving your affections to her and so far it’s gotten you no where.” Rourke also withdrew his wand and rose it. Rourke’s form was perfect, which Rowan would constantly bring to everyone’s attention. Rourke had grown a tad cocky with the idea, which always made Harry eager to knock him back down to his basic level.

            “Can you read her mind?” Harry asked, getting himself into the dueling position. “Because unless you can, I don’t want to hear your non-expert opinion on it.”

            Rourke whirled his wand without shouting an incantation and knocked Harry back ten feet onto his back.

            “Don’t need to read her mind. Last week you made a complete idiot of yourself trying to impress her,” he said, rearranging himself for the next maneuver.

            Harry sat up and readied himself for the next move, but Rourke knocked him back down again.

            “That’s it,” Harry mumbled to himself. He shot at Rourke from the ground. Rourke was hit dead in the chest and now he too was on the floor. Harry allowed himself a chuckle and got back to his feet and made sure Rourke stayed on the floor.

            But Harry’s laughter and Rourke’s loud groans attracted the instructor’s attention.

            “What is this?” he asked crankily, making his way over to the two.

            Harry stuffed his fist in his mouth to shut himself up, and Rourke was finally allowed to stand.

            “We’re dueling,” Rourke said matter-of-factly.

            Piper also came to see what the excitement was about. Harry stopped laughing, tensed his muscles, and made himself look taller.

            “Potter!” Rowan snapped, advancing on Harry. “You call that honorable dueling?”

            Harry chanced a glance at Piper, then focused on Rowan again. “No sir,” he said formally, “I call it winning.”

            “Tosh!” Rowan said. Harry found that he couldn’t take Rowan’s grumpy attitude too seriously---it was so darn funny. “We duel honorably as Aurors! Now let your opponent get to his feet before striking him again!”

            “Why?” Harry asked. “The point of dueling is not to be honorable but to win, isn’t it? It’s not a game, it’s a fight to the death.”

            Harry saw, in the corner of his eye, Piper fighting a smile. Harry decided to continue. “I might be honorable, but the dark wizard may choose to play dirty. What good is an honorable Auror if he’s dead?”

            Rowan was ready to fire back but Piper, sensing her instructor’s defeat, held him at bay and whispered something in his ear. Rowan pretended that he’d never talked to Harry and started criticizing another pair.

            Piper smiled at Harry. “He’s intimidated by you,” she said. Harry loved her Irish accent.

            Harry tried to think of something witty to say to her but instead he said, “Uh huh.” He wanted to punch himself. “You, er,” he started. He wanted to compliment her, but he couldn’t think of anything astounding to say. “You look really pretty today.” He said.

            She smiled and chuckled a little. “Thank you,” she replied.

            Harry grinned back at her and tried to ignore the immature snickers coming from Rourke and Jonathan who stood behind him. Then the words he’d just uttered passed through his brain again. She looks pretty today? What, so every other day she’s a dog? Way to go Harry. Remember that thought you had a while ago about getting another idea? Memo, put it in a memo. But Piper seemed content with the compliment.

            Piper scratched her nose as she stood there, waiting for him to say something else. Harry racked his brain for another compliment but decided against it.

            “So,” Harry said. “This is you’re last year hear?”

            Piper nodded. “Thank goodness. I’m going to apply for the Irish Ministry.”

            “Yeah,” Harry said. “You’ll be great.”

            Piper blushed slightly but it wasn’t that noticeable. “Thanks.”

            Say something witty. Make her laugh! Ask her out to dinner! Ask her anything! Say anything other than about yourself!

            “Do you have…” Harry started. Do it! Say it! Ask her about this weekend! Just do it Harry! Suck it up and be a man! “Do you have plans this weekend?”

            Piper appeared flattered. She had been playing the cat and mouse game with Harry, her being the mouse, for the past few months. He hadn’t asked her out since the day he first met her. But since that first class, she had grown accustomed and rather liked his attention and his humiliating attempts to impress her. Many of them worked.

            It was only two weeks ago when Harry sent flowers to her flat. When she told one of her friends about the gesture, her friend giggled. Apparently Harry had done some embarrassing things to get hold of Piper’s address. The only people who knew her address were her close girlfriends.

            “What did you make him do?” Piper had asked.

            “Oh, you know,” her friend had said with a red face. “He really is quite cute, Piper. He has really nice arm muscles.” She couldn’t finish because she had thrown herself into a fit of giggles.

            She refocused on Harry with a serious face.

            “Plans?” Piper asked Harry.

            “Yeah,” he said. “You know, are you free at all?”

            Piper stuck her tongue in her cheek. “What if I am?”

            “Well,” he said, getting more confidence from her encouraging grin, “maybe you and…I, could do… something.”

            Piper crossed her arms. “Together?” she asked coyly.

            Harry felt his shirt shrink. “Yeah,” he said.

            Piper grinned. “There’s going to be a little gathering Saturday night. Some friends of mine are throwing a party. Maybe we could go together.”

            Harry felt himself beaming at her. “That sounds great.”

            “I’ll find you during the week to give you the details.” She winked at him then attended to the rest of the class.

            Harry whirled around to look at Rourke and Jonathan, and punched the air in excitement. “I,” he said, pointing to himself, “have a date this Saturday. You two losers do not!”

            And for the rest of the class, Harry performed some of his best magic in months.

**

Harry paced his room. His hands were going to his hair every fifteen seconds. When they weren’t in his hair they were checking that his face was still smooth. He sprayed breath freshener in his mouth. Ten minutes left. He checked his hair.

            Jonathan was reclining on his bed reading Witches Gone Wild. “You’re going to burn the carpet if you keep pacing like that,” he told Harry.

            “Do I look okay to you?” Harry asked, for possibly the hundredth time, in regards to his wardrobe.

            Jonathan didn’t even look away from his magazine when he said, “From a completely heterosexual perspective, you look very handsome. Piper’s a lucky woman.”

            Harry walked over to his mirror again and took a gander. His face was very smooth, his teeth were white and sparkling. He only worried about what he wore. He couldn’t decide what would be appropriate. Rourke had laughed himself silly when he heard Harry stressing over what he wore. “Girls freak out over their attire!” he had said. Harry ordered him out of the room while he contemplated.

            He had decided to play it safe. Keep it casual but look nice. He had faded blue jeans, a button down shirt, white of course, and he wore a mid-length leather coat. Simple.

            “You should go to her flat, shouldn’t you?” Jonathan asked. “Isn’t it about time?”

            Harry checked his watch. “Yeah,” he said. He snatched his wand from his dresser and stuffed it inside his inner coat pocket.

            Jonathan sat up. “You look very snazzy,” he said.

            “Could you be serious for a second please,” Harry said. “If I look like a Backstreet Boy, please tell me.”

            “You don’t. Have a nice time,” Jonathan said with a wry wink. “Remember, she has a father who doesn’t care who you are.”

            “Thanks big brother,” Harry said.

            “I hope you get some action,” Jonathan added.

            Harry didn’t reply but immediately Disapparated and reappeared outside an ordinary door to an ordinary flat. He took several deep breaths. “Be calm,” Harry told himself. “This is not your first date with a girl. You’ll do fine.” He rose his fist and knocked on the door.

            Moments later Piper opened it.

            She was dressed semi-casually, much like him. But she looked much better. She wore tight leather pants, which Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of for several seconds, and a bright green sweater.

            “Harry,” she said happily, “you’re right on time. Most guys show up half an hour late with no apology.”

            Harry wasn’t sure if that was a “thank you” or “why can’t you be like everyone else and give me more time to prep.” He answered her with the classic smile and nod.

            “Let me get my bag and we’ll go,” she said. “You can come in,” she offered, opening her door to him.

            “Thanks. You look great, by the way,” he said.

            She grinned. “Thanks. You look nice, too.”

            Pleasantries over, Harry and Piper left for the party. The actual party was being held in an unlikely location: an abandoned library building on the outskirts of Manchester. When they entered the run down building, Harry was sure he’d been expecting something quite different. The library was blaring with loud music coming from a live band in the center of the building. There were dull lit and barely working lights all around the walls, giving the library an eerie quality. But most stunning of all were the countless vats of alcohol on every table in the room and surrounding them were severely drunk people.

            “First party?” Piper yelled over the music.

            Harry turned to her with a gaping mouth. “Yes,” he said.

            Piper grinned, grabbed his hand, and tugged him through the crowd.

            “Are most of these people from Training?” Harry asked her.

            “Hell no! Most of those people are so stuck up they can’t see sunlight!” she yelled.

            She took him to one of the tables fit to be altars to Dionysus. She grabbed two shot glasses with a clear liquid inside. She downed one and gave one to Harry.

            He wasn’t about to tell her that he didn’t drink; he’d worked so hard to get here with her. He took a deep breath, forced a smile, and downed the liquid like it was nothing. But it tasted like petrol. Harry coughed but heard Piper laughing.

            “First vodka?” Piper asked.

            Harry looked up at her with watery eyes. “That obvious, eh?” he asked.

            She nodded then handed him another. “Live a little, Harry. No worries!” she yelled. She too took another shot glass and drank it as quickly as the first.

            Harry looked down into the clear substance, pondering it. “No worries,” he told himself. Under Piper’s encouraging eye, Harry put the glass to his lips, and thrust his head up like a professional.

Twenty minutes and seven shot glasses later, Harry found himself sitting in an armchair and laughing uncontrollably. A large group of people Harry had never seen in his life were laughing with him. Piper was tossing her hair around as she sat in his lap, helping herself to a few more drinks.

            The group had been told that Piper’s guest was none other than the world famous Harry Potter, and they had insisted that he tell them a few details about his conquering of Lord Voldemort. But it sounded much funnier after half a bottle of alcohol.

            “And ifya belive it,” he continued, his words slurring into one another, waving his wand around playfully as the entire group was in stitches, “he saysta me, ‘Potter…hesays, youre nuffin tome butamisbehain teenager.” The group roared with laughter and Harry joined them, continuing to wave his wand. “Then I,” he said, whirling around his wand but dropped it.

            Piper snuggled closer to him and gave him another drink, which he downed quickly. She encircled his neck and head and held it to her chest, kissing the top of his head as she laughed.

            The night progressed with more alcohol, story telling which was undistinguishable from animal slurs, and eventually a painful trip to the loo.

            Harry found the toilet just in the nick of time. He blundered toward it, hitting his head on pipes and doors, then collapsed in front of it. He pulled his head to the bowl just as a painful pressure pushed against his chest. He wanted to go against the pressure, but at the same time he wished to relieve it. Finally his reflexes took control and he wretched a smelly stench into the bowl.

            “Oh God,” he groaned as he lay his head on the bowl. His face was wet with sweat and his stomach was grumbling angrily.

            Someone else came into the room. He risked looking up but his vision was blurred and the figure wasn’t walking as much as she was swimming toward him.

            “Harry!” she said drunkenly, sliding beside him. He thought it sounded like Piper, but he wouldn’t bet on it. “I thought this was your first time,” she said to him.

            Harry squint at her, wishing his eyes would focus. Right now there appeared to be two Pipers and they kept swimming around him. Piper looked into the toilet bowl then flushed it. Harry stared at his sick whirling around then disappearing down the hole. And before he knew it he blacked out.

**

There was a deep throbbing pain in his neck, the back of his head, the front of his head, and even in his sinuses. Harry clapped his hands to his head and groaned. Without opening his eyes Harry knew it was day. His eyelids were orange-brown because the sun was pouring into the room. His head was so sore he didn’t even want to open his eyes.

            “I’m never drinking again,” he promised himself as he lay in agony. He turned over on his stomach and buried his head in a pillow to stay away from the light. Then it hit him. How did he get back?

            Harry opened his eyes and flipped to his back. This wasn’t his room. Panic filling his veins, he looked around. This was definitely not his room. He was sleeping in a queen sized bed wearing nothing but his boxer shorts.

            The door to the room opened and Piper came in.

            “Oh God,” Harry said, clapping his hands to his face.

            “Good morning,” she said to him as she sat next to him. “You blacked out last night, remember?”

            Harry tried to think. He remembered the first five shots but after that things got a little hazy. “No,” he groaned in response.

            “Yeah, you did,” she said with a twinge of laughter. “I’m sorry. I should’ve gone easier on you, knowing it was your first party. What you’re having right now is your first hangover.”

            Harry peered at her through his hands. “I passed out. So we didn’t…?”

            Piper grinned but shook her head. “No. We didn’t. I had to have help getting you here. I thought it would be less humiliating to bring you back here than take you to your dorm room where everyone would see you passed out. You slept like a baby all night, so nothing happened.”

            Harry was relieved.

            “Here,” Piper said, handing him a glass of steaming pink liquid.

            Harry squint at the glass.

            “It’ll take care of that hangover in a second. You want that don’t you?”

            Harry nodded and took the glass. He gulped it down in a matter of seconds and could feel, to his relief, the pain ebbing away. He sighed and fell back into the bed, closing his eyes. “What time is it?” he asked her.

            “Ten.”

            “Ten!” he said, sitting up again. “Bullocks. I have to go,” he said, looking around for his clothes.

            “They’re being washed,” Piper said. “They smelled. You had an encounter with the porcelain god. They should be done any minute now, but you should just rest for the time being. Are you hungry?” she asked.

            “I threw up? In--in front of you?” he asked.

            Piper nodded.

            “What else did I do?” he asked, fearing the answers.

            “You told everyone about your conquest of He-who-must-not-be-named, sort of. We couldn’t understand the last half of it because your speech was slurred. Oh, then there was the dancing.”

            “What?” Harry said, his face turning red. “Dancing? I don’t dance. At all.”

            Piper grinned. “You danced with me. You were pretty good, actually. It was nothing fancy just the regular drunken dancing. But nothing other than that. You were terribly funny, though. Everyone loved you.”

            Harry couldn’t hear anymore. He started to throw the covers off himself when he remembered he was in his underwear.

            “Who took off my clothes?” he asked.

            “I did,” she said, as if it were nothing. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the gym,” she added with a wry smile.

            Harry gave an embarrassed laugh and felt his face burning.

            “You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Harry,” she said, winking at him. “You have great genes.”

            “I want my stuff back,” Harry said, ignoring her last comment. “I’ll take it dirty, I don’t care.”

            “Just relax will you,” Piper said, pushing him back on the bed. “You’re so tense all the time. Can’t you just have fun every once in a while?” She crawled on the bed and sat on top of him, one leg on each side.

            “Oh yeah,” Harry said, trying to sound at ease with her position. “It’s just right now it’s kind of strange. I’m not really one to do that kind of thing.”

            Piper nodded in understanding then leaned close to him, her face inches from his. Harry felt his heart thumping madly. He could smell her breath--she’d used a spearmint mouthwash this morning.

            “Relax, Harry,” Piper whispered. “We’ve already kissed anyway.”

            Harry gave her an uncomfortable smile. “Really?” he asked shakily.

            “Yes,” she said. She gripped his neck in her hands then kissed him, which he quickly returned.

**

Harry’s clothes arrived at 10:30, clean and pressed. They sat on a table for three hours, however. Piper laughed when she saw that they’d been delivered already. But she didn’t get out of bed. She curled her arms around Harry and ducked her head under his chin.

            “So…” Harry started. He didn’t exactly have a good excuse to be nervous anymore, but he didn’t want to sit there and have nothing to say to her.

            “Mmmm,” she said with a smile. “You’re so warm and strong,” she mumbled into his ear.

            Harry couldn’t help but smile. He took her hand in his and stretched her arm across his chest. He certainly didn’t see himself here months ago when he was just trying to get her attention. Yet here he was, in her bed with her.

            “So where do we go from here?” Harry asked her.

            “I don’t know,” she said. “Tell me about yourself.”

            Harry laughed. “What do you want to know?”

            Piper propped herself up and looked into his eyes. “What do you like to do in your free time?” she began.

            Harry rolled over to his side so he could look into her face. “I haven’t really had any lately. But I suppose I would see my friends.”

            Piper twist her fingers in his hair playfully. “From here or Hogwarts?”

            “Hogwarts mostly. My friend Ron wanted to be an Auror too but he hasn’t passed the entrance exam yet. And Hermione is starting small at Sparks Publishing. She’s a bit of a book worm.”

            Piper smiled and kissed him again. “Is she pretty?” she asked.

            “Uh,” Harry said. He remembered suddenly what Hermione had told him in his fifth year about being tactless. “Well I’ve known her since I was eleven. I don’t really think of her that way,” he replied, hoping that was the kind of answer Piper wanted.

            “I’m not the jealous type, Harry,” she said with a smile. “You can tell me if you think she’s pretty. I mean you’re here with me not with Hermione.”

            Harry laughed and he wasn’t sure why. But Piper laughed with him and embraced him for another kiss. Harry couldn’t remember a time when he’d smiled this much or been as happy as he was with her. He was so wrapped up in her, literally and figuratively, that he didn’t notice a few candles ignite on their own, or the alarm clock that hovered a few feet above the night stand.