(999 words)
It was with some trepidation that eight new recruits gathered in a small sparse classroom on the training corps campus. Ron had arrived with Harry, Malfoy, Peanut, and Nev. There were also three new faces; a man called Emilé Bisset, a woman called Sakura Yoshioka, and Laura Madley, a Hufflepuff in Gin's year.
'Righ', you 'orrible lot,' growled Senior-Auror Silvanus Booth as he stomped into the room. 'On your feet and to order!' he yelled.
Ron gulped and looked around at his fellow recruits as they scrambled to their feet and into some sort of disorganised military line. They all looked remarkably pale.
Booth rocked on the balls of his feet, 'never before 'ave I seen such a blatant display of poofery...'
But then he looked Harry who, for some reason, was leaning against the wall, grinning. Ron was confused. The man was bloody scary, what was Harry playing at?
'Is there something funny, Pottah?' the man barked.
'No, Sergeant-Major Williams...'
Booth's lips twitched. 'Very good, Pottah, very good! Relax, you lot. Grab a chair.' He was grinning now and Ron felt baffled.
'Care to explain, Pottah,' Booth said as he perched on the desk at the front.
'You're quoting a 70s muggle TV series, sir. My uncle used to watch it, same sort of values as Williams.'
'Damn,' said Booth. 'I've had new recruits going on that for weeks. Never been sussed so quickly. First lesson of the day: never take anything on first appearances. Second lesson of the day: don't ignore your muggle studies during your training, we may be wizards dealing with other wizards, but wizards can come from any walk of life, have any background, hold all sorts of beliefs and'll do anything to hide it. Third lesson of the day, I don't care who you are, what your background is, what your gender or your orientation is. I don't care if you're black, white, purple, French, British, or from outer-fucking-space, if you've got one leg, or if you were born on a Monday or a Tuesday, if your Merlinists, Buddhists, or think you're God-himself. And I certainly don't care if you're fucking Golden Bollocks here. From now on, you're all equal, you're all learning from scratch, and you all have to prove yourselves to me. But, I also know you're all bloody good at magic, that's why you're here.'
Ron relaxed a little.
'These are your timetables, general information, disclaimers, and there's a campus map,' Booth handed them all some packs. 'To get into the Auror Ranks proper, you'll need to get 'O's in everything, from Defence Studies to physical training. I do not expect you all to pass, I expect some will drop out. This is the test. When you've finished here you'll be the bloody cream of the crop and I will be fiercely proud of you. Right,' he stood up. 'I'll show you to the supplies room where you will be issued with your kit and a locker. You change and we meet back here in thirty minutes exactly. And I do not accept tardiness!' he barked.
'Bloody hell,' Ron exclaimed as he pulled on his black combats and t-shirt. 'I wasn't expecting that.'
'Bit of a shock,' Malfoy agreed, as he laced his heavy black boots.
Harry was grinning.
'You're in your fucking element, aren't you, Golden Bollocks!'
'Yup,' Harry said happily as he buttoned his standard-issue grey military jacket which signified 'trainee'.
'You realise that nickname's stuck now,' Peanut laughed.
'We'll all have nicknames by the end of week,' said Sakura.
'You alright, Emilé?' asked Laura.
The Frenchman nodded, 'I don't understand, what's "poofery"?'
'Argot désobligeant pour l'homosexualité.'
Trust Ferret! Ron didn't fail to notice Harry's slightly flushed reaction to Malfoy speaking French.
'He was being reactionary,' explained Nev. 'Trying to see how we'd react and make it our first lesson. Luckily, we've got Golden Bollocks here, who knew his reference. But it's a lesson in teamwork too, about sharing information.'
Ron couldn't believe how intense their first day was, they had magical and physical defence classes, and more training activities. They also chose to specialise in two areas; both Harry and Malfoy selected curse-breaking and transfiguration. Ron was undecided, charms was his first choice, it was a shame Quidditch wasn't in the options and he was surprised to find he'd really enjoyed the gruelling physical workout they'd been forced through, from the obstacle course to the five-mile run which proved a bit of a shock to them all.
'So, chose Phys. Ed., Carrottop,' barked Booth. 'There's more to it than just prancing around a field with a knapsack on your back.'
When Malfoy smirked, Ron snapped good-humouredly, 'fuck off, Ferret.'
'Ho-ho!' laughed Booth. 'The Ferret, I was wondering about you. You're not, by any chance, that student that Mad-Eye transfigured.'
'I can't fucking escape that, can I?'
'What are you laughing at, Silver?' Booth said to Peanut.
'Silver?'
'He's a one-legged pirate in a muggle book,' said Sakura.
'And Silver,' Booth barked. 'Get yourself off to the hospital wing before you go home. They've done some advanced work on prosthetics, ones you can transfigure easily and quickly depending on your activity. There's a blade, based on the ones the muggle Paralympians wear. You'll outrun any of these pansies with one of those. Tell 'em I sent you.'
When Harry, Peanut, Ron, Nev, and Draco Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place at the end of the day, they collapsed in the sitting room in exhaustion.
'Take out?' Harry suggested.
'Well, I'm not bloody cooking,' said Ron. 'Wonder what time Mione's home.'
Malfoy leant against Harry on the sofa. 'I can't fucking move...'
'Aw... are your lovely legsies all achy...' teased Harry.
'Just because you're fitter than a butcher's bloody dog, there's no need to rub it in.'
'I told you to start training but you do insist on sitting around looking pretty.'
Ron saw Peanut and Nev roll their eyes. 'Shall we get the take-out menus,' he said to them.
*****