Unlike a Sister (Harmione)

Chapter 20: Saints and Martyrs

It was a rapid, steady beat. His heart drumming in his ears.

The air was freezing. It filled his lungs like ice and released like steaming tea. He'd lost feeling in the tips of his ears, but he didn't mind. He barely felt the crunch of gravel beneath his trainers. The whole world felt wondrously weightless.

"Chief!" someone called out behind him. "How long we gonna keep this up?"

Harry turned and jogged backwards. "Tired already?"

Lucan Akerman, the trainer for Poisons & Antidotes, suppressed a smile. A dozen or so trainees jogged behind him in varying states of exhaustion.

"Never," said the Auror between heaving breaths.

"Good," Harry grinned. "We're just getting started."

"Almost the six mile mark," Akerman couldn't help pointing out. "Might want to think of Morgan. He rolled an ankle three days ago."

Harry slowed to a stop. Akerman, looking relieved, placed his hands on his knees. The Auror trainees-six women and eight men-caught up with them. They were all in the second year of their mandatory three-year Auror training programme. The Auror Department didn't accept more than fifteen applicants a cycle-a three percent admission rate.

Harry and the others were on a running path thirty miles northwest of London. It sat atop the vast Alberic Pendragon Auror Training Centre (or ATC), which, like many wizarding institutions, was almost entirely underground. The only portion aboveground was the running track, which naturally didn't attract much Muggle attention. Nevertheless, the entire area was Unplottable, a Restricted-Apparation zone, and Muggle-repelling charms were buried in the ground every few feet.

The trainees-most around nineteen years of age-doubled over catching their breaths. Two collapsed onto the snow near the path.

Watching the recruits, Akerman smiled ruefully at Harry. "What's gotten into you, Chief? These kids are barely over their hangovers."

Harry stretched his arms over his head. "What better way to ring in the new year than a morning run?"

He gave him a look bordering on a glare.

Harry laughed, holding up his hands. "All right. I got it." He turned to the trainees, some doing their best to conceal their fatigue before the Chief. "Let's take a break. Good job everyone."

The group exchanged relieved glances but Harry looked ahead. In the distance, he could see the bench where they'd left their kit. In Harry's own duffel, resting atop his change of clothes, was a book. A book Harry hadn't put down since yesterday morning. A book he promised to read.

There was another item too.

Tucked into smallest corner, almost as if to avoid detection, was an inexplicable scrap of lavender lace.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

"All right!" he said, bringing his hands together. "Who's up for dueling?"

"I can see you moving your lips, Fabian!" Harry shouted, lowering his wand. "Gives me an unfair advantage!"

The trainee nodded at the far end of the dueling chamber. He raised his wand again and cast a Stinging Hex that Harry dodged. It hit the wall hard behind him, causing the paint to bubble up.

"Good on," Harry barked. "That's better!"

Fabian threw a Stunning Spell next. Harry deflected with a flick of his wrist. Straightaway, Fabian cast another. Harry never found out what it was because he disapparated four feet to his right, casting a simple Ventus jinx the moment he reappeared.