[I've really wanted to write an HP fanfic away from life at Hogwarts. Well~ here it is~]
[Take your time reading; it'll get more and more exciting later on.]
[Leave your brains here.]
September in London should have carried the crisp freshness of early autumn.
But at that moment, the Auror Office at Britain's Ministry of Magic was unusually hot and stuffy.
When Lin Ze opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a dark brown wooden desk.
A copy of the Daily Prophet lay open on it.
The newspaper's headline read in bold black lettering: "Dark Mark rises again; Ministry of Magic urges public to remain calm."
He stared blankly for a long while.
Then a torrent of memories surged into his head, almost bursting it apart.
Lin Ze, eighteen, Asian wizard, graduate of Hogwarts' Hufflepuff House. N.E.W.T.s results: Defence Against Dark Magic, O; Charms, O; Transfiguration, E; Potions, E; Herbology, E. Just ten days ago, the Auror Office had waived his three years of training and made an exception to recruit him directly.
Of course, that exception had not been made because he was a heaven-defying genius, but because the Auror Office really had no one left.
Truly, no one.
Ever since Voldemort had appeared publicly in 1970, being an Auror had been one of the jobs with the highest death rates in the entire Ministry of Magic.
The death rate among the Hit Wizards next door had remained consistently high as well.
By 1981, the situation had become utterly dire.
Most of the veteran Aurors had died in battle, the younger ones were resigning in droves, and those who remained were either feigning illness to take leave or secretly tipping off the Death Eaters to save their own skins.
Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Office, was so anxious that a ring of blisters had formed around his mouth. He wanted to drag any living person he saw into the office.
That was the situation in which Lin Ze had been recruited.
"Fuck," Lin Ze swore in Chinese.
Just a second earlier, his memories had still been of staying up late in his rented room, rewatching the Harry Potter films.
He had been drinking ice-cold cola that cost three yuan a can and shouting "The eternal GOAT!" at Professor Snape on the screen.
Somehow, he had lost consciousness, and then he was sitting here.
The date was now...
September 29, 1981.
There was one month left until Harry Potter's parents were killed.
And only one month until Voldemort's first downfall.
"Well, damn. I've been dropped straight into the eye of the storm," Lin Ze muttered to himself.
He quickly recalled and sorted through this world's timeline in his head.
It was now late September 1981, and Voldemort's power was at its absolute peak.
The Death Eaters had infiltrated almost every department of the Ministry of Magic.
The "boy who would defeat the Dark Lord" in the prophecy had already been born, and Voldemort would soon learn the contents of the prophecy from Snape, discover the Potters' location through Wormtail, and descend on Godric's Hollow on Halloween night.
Then came... Voldemort's downfall...
Lin Ze knew this stretch of history all too well. He could recite it backward with his eyes closed.
So the question now was, how was he going to survive this final month and lay the groundwork for the new era after Voldemort's fall?
"Lin Ze!" A gruff voice came from the office doorway.
Lin Ze looked up and saw a burly middle-aged man with thick, long brown hair striding toward him.
There was obvious agitation in his eyes, and a patch of stubble on his chin that he had not shaved properly.
Rufus Scrimgeour.
Head of the Auror Office, future Minister for Magic, renowned for his hard-line approach and lionlike courage.
Of course, he was not yet Minister at this point, merely a middle manager on the verge of being driven mad by pressure.
"Boy, you still haven't handed in yesterday's patrol report. Don't tell me you forgot." Scrimgeour reached Lin Ze's desk and rapped his knuckles against it.
"I haven't forgotten, sir. I haven't." Lin Ze quickly slipped into his role and found a sheet of parchment on his desk.
"Here it is. Just finished it."
Scrimgeour snatched the parchment, skimmed it, and frowned even harder.
"Everything normal on the east side of Diagon Alley? Are you sure? Someone reported seeing signs of suspected Death Eater activity yesterday afternoon."
"I checked it out. It was just an underground dealer selling banned potion ingredients. I warned him and drove him off. He wasn't a Death Eater," Lin Ze said without a change in expression.
Scrimgeour stared at him for a while, as though assessing how credible his words were.
Finally, he sighed and stuffed the parchment into an inside pocket of his robes.
"All right, I'll let that pass. But I'm warning you, boy, these are exceptional times. You need to stay completely alert on patrol."
"We lost another three Hit Wizards last month. Three!"
"One died on his own doorstep. The other two vanished outright, and we still haven't even found their bodies."
He kept his voice very low as he spoke, as though afraid someone might overhear.
Lin Ze noticed that the Aurors at the other desks in the office were all pretending to be engrossed in their work, but their ears were clearly pricked up.
"I understand, sir." Lin Ze nodded earnestly.
Looking at the young man before him, a barely perceptible trace of gratification flickered through Scrimgeour's eyes.
Honestly, at a time when everyone feared for their own safety, finding a young man willing to join the Auror Office was practically Merlin opening his eyes.
Even if the boy had next to no experience, at least he had the guts to come.
"All right. You'll continue patrolling Diagon Alley today." Scrimgeour patted Lin Ze's shoulder.
"And spend less time with Bodo Crabbe and his crowd. They're... unreliable." With that, he turned and strode away.
Lin Ze watched Scrimgeour leave, his gaze flickering slightly.
Of course he knew whom Scrimgeour meant.
Bodo Crabbe, a veteran Hit Wizard in the Auror Office and a member of the Crabbe family.
And the Crabbe family, as everyone knew, were loyal supporters of Voldemort.
In fact, at least a third of the people currently in the Auror Office secretly had countless ties to the Death Eaters.
Some said they were moles, some said they were betting on both sides, and others said they were simply fence-sitters, leaning whichever way the wind blew strongest.
Lin Ze silently gave Scrimgeour a thumbs-up.
A good boss.
To warn him so bluntly in an environment where practically everyone had their own hidden agenda, this future Minister really was a straightforward man.
Still, speaking of Bodo Crabbe and his crowd...
Lin Ze's gaze drifted casually toward the other end of the office.
A broad, thickset wizard with a brutish face was leaning back at his workstation, both legs propped on the desk and a liquorice wand dangling from his mouth.
Bodo Crabbe.
Beside him sat a tall, thin man named Evan Goyle, who likewise came from a Death Eater family and was likewise "coasting along" in the Auror Office.
Noticing Lin Ze's gaze, Crabbe and Goyle gave him knowing smiles.
Lin Ze smiled back at them, showing a mouthful of white teeth.
Then he lowered his head, pretended to sort through the documents on his desk, and muttered quietly in Chinese.
"Go on, laugh. In another month, you'll be crying."
He knew all too well.
After Voldemort's fall, large numbers of Death Eaters were arrested and put on trial, and the vast majority of the Crabbe and Goyle families were sent to Azkaban.
The two colleagues before him probably would not meet very pleasant ends either.