The Liars Department || Drarry

Epilogue 1

Robards stared at the paper in his hand, a deep furrow between his brow.

Harry shifted his weight on the uncomfortable chair in front of the desk, then leaned the other way and back until he finally illicit an agonized squeak from the metal.

Robards glanced up for only a brief second, then back down.

Harry sighed and looked around at the floor to ceiling bookshelves. All but one of the empty mugs looked to have been cleared up at some point, but a few changes of clothes stuffed into an empty corner shelf and a few dirty dishes from late night meals had taken up residence on the crowded shelves. It was probably all due to the big case the Aurors had all been so focused on the last week. The room could use a thorough deep clean. It was beginning to smell a bit whiffy.

"What are you thinking, Potter?" Robards said in dismay.

"That I'd like to work in the Liar's Department, which is why I've requested a formal transfer," Harry said.

Robards set the form down with a sigh, "Fine. We hadn't planned on giving you the promotion for another year, but I'm sure we could work out something a bit earlier."

"A promotion," Harry said flatly.

"I'll put you in charge of the next prominent case that comes in and use that as cause for your move to Senior Auror," Robards said, "I can't manage it any faster than that with raising suspicious."

Harry muffled a laugh into a cough, "I don't want a promotion."

"What do you want then, Potter?" Robards asked, drumming his fingers across the desktop.

"How about a de-motion?" Harry asked. It wouldn't actually change his mind, but he was curious what Robards would say.

Robard's brown furrowed.

"Make me a Junior again," Harry said.

"No. I couldn't- there's no precedent for such a thing," Robards said.

"Make one, then," Harry said. He shifted his weight back again to elicit another horrible metal shriek from the chair.

Robard's eyebrow twitched. "Obviously, you have some issues with the department. I'm certain we can work something out-"

"No. I'd like to transfer, sir," Harry said.

Robards dropped back into his chair, "I'm afraid I have to reject this transfer," he dropped the form onto his desk. "We need you here, Harry."

"I'll just quit then," Harry said with a frown. He really didn't like Robards using his first name like they were chums.

Robards started forward, "You can't; think about how it would look."

"Yeah, really bad for you," Harry said, "Even worse if I give an interview with the Prophet afterwards about how disappointed I am with the Auror's and how they run things."

Robards expression darkened.

"You know, all my life, people have been deciding things for me. That I'm a useless good-for-nothing because of my parents, that I was a hero because of something that happened to me as a baby, that I was the chosen one because of a prophecy." Harry sighed and pushed another squeak out of the chair. "The thing I want, and have always wanted really, is to be judged fairly for what I do. Not promotions I haven't earned, or given no punishments or demerits that I have earned. Not I would have liked them per-say but, it's the principle of the thing."

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind about this?" Robards asked, "I could arrange a more informal demotion; have you treated as a Junior within the department for as long as you feel necessary."