Samsara's Curse (Drarry Slowburn)

THE ANOMALY

A/N: For legal reasons, all recognizable characters and creative properties belong to JK Rowling. Also, trans women are women <3

Maybe I shouldn't be doing this, Harry thought.

He knew he'd get an earful from his boss, Laverne, but it bothered him that no one else cared enough to investigate the strange magical energy lingering near the abbey. According to Ministry records, the area had witnessed several time discrepancies in the last week. At least in Harry's mind, this raised the possibility that the Ministry had missed a few Time Turners when they were destroyed en masse, after the war. That was too dangerous a problem to be left unresolved.

He gave himself a minute to adjust after he landed. Portkey travel was always difficult, even more so than Apparation. Instead of using the magic within oneself, Portkey travel relied on the magic of an external source, leading to fairly common unstable landings.

Luckily, It was relatively easy to find the Portkey he needed, as the Ministry had thousands, all sorted numerically by coordinate. Harry patted his coat pocket, relieved when he felt a rusty set of keys inside—a Portkey back to the Ministry. Apparating into the Ministry became illegal in 2005. Doing so came with a hefty fine for offending wizards, even those partaking in field missions. The only way back to the Ministry was by Floo, foot, or Portkey. Harry was a good two hundred miles away from London, so returning on foot was well out of the question. With no Floo in sight, the Portkey was his saving grace of convenience.

The abbey ruins were vast and shrouded by foliage, seemingly untouched by man for many years. Harry stepped carefully and made his way over to the structure, mindful not to trip on any sleeping snakes. Even as a Parselmouth, Harry didn't think he'd be able to reason with a grumpy reptile startled out of slumber.

He stepped onto the foundation and marveled at the setting sun—it painted the cotton clouds with hues of orange and pink. Even as the work day for most wizards came to a close, Harry remained behind to tie up loose ends.

He then set up magical wards at the entry archway that would silently alert him if anyone—or anything—overstepped them. He did the same for every gap between the walls and every window unobstructed by brambles. There were several dozen rooms branching off from the entrance, so this process went on until nightfall.

I need a raise, Harry thought disparagingly, knowing that was highly unlikely.

He had been transferred to the archival branch of the Department of Mysteries, specifically because it didn't include as much field work. Harry had pretty much worked in every Ministry position possible, despite his lack of qualifications.

After the war, Harry worked as an Auror for ten years. He loved it, truth be told, but after taking a particularly nasty fall, propelled by two simultaneous Stupefies, his shoulder was never the same again.

Concerned for the Chosen One's safety, despite his protests, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement transferred him to a less physically demanding position. None of this would've happened if Harry were just another employee, of course. He would have just been told to suck it up and bear the pain. Now, the only painful aspect of working was the fact that it wasn't as an Auror.

Whether due to insubordination or plain carelessness, Harry rarely stayed at any one position for more than a year. Beast Taming was one of the more fun occupations he accumulated on his CV, but ultimately, he was transferred again when he accidently led a Kniffler into the finance Department of Magical Artifacts. It was total havoc.

After that, he was an Obliviator for a whopping five days. Until, of course, various reports of Muggles forgetting who they were came back to his supervisor.