Level Two of the Ministry of Magic.
Rowan Mercer stepped out of the lift and passed through two heavy oak doors. Beyond them lay an open-plan office divided into neat cubicles. Every desk was occupied.
The Auror Office.
"Rowan!"
Nymphadora Tonks was the first to spot him. She jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair, and hurried over with several Aurors who used to frequent Rowan's shop under the excuse of free meals.
"I still can't believe this," Tonks said, grinning. "You joining the Ministry? Same department as us? I had to confirm it with the Director myself."
When Rowan had written to her days earlier, she'd assumed he was joking. Back at Hogwarts, she'd only handled outer security and hadn't been privy to what Fudge and Rowan discussed afterward. Confidentiality agreements had kept her in the dark.
All she'd known was that Rowan had subdued Sirius Black and a Hogwarts professor in the same encounter. That alone had left a deep impression.
"Life moves fast," Rowan said with a smile, returning her hug. "I didn't expect to be working this soon either."
After a brief chat, he crossed the Auror Office and entered the area assigned to the Improper Use of Magic division.
Three corridors branched off.
One was dim and shabby, leading to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Two wizards worked there. One of them was Arthur Weasley.
Another corridor was brighter and more orderly, housing the office that investigated counterfeit defensive spells and equipment.
The third corridor led straight to the Director's office.
Rowan headed that way.
The door was open.
Inside was a room drowned in pink. Lace-trimmed curtains, frilly décor, and cat-themed ornaments crowded every surface. It looked less like a Ministry office and more like a child's bedroom frozen in time.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged witch in an aggressively pink dress. Her broad face sagged slightly with age, and a small velvet bow perched in her curled hair.
Dolores Umbridge.
Rowan paused at the doorway, expression neutral.
If he weren't new, and if removing her would immediately advance his position, he might have acted already. For now, he waited.
"Director Umbridge?" he said politely. "I'm Rowan Mercer. Your new assistant."
Umbridge looked up and smiled. It was a practiced smile. Careful. Artificial.
"Ah, Rowan. Come in. The Minister has already spoken to me about you."
She'd done her homework. Fudge's personal instructions, Dumbledore's recommendation, and quiet pressure from abroad had made one thing clear. This was not someone she could treat like an ordinary subordinate.
Umbridge had climbed her way up by reading people and serving power. She recognized danger when she saw it.
"You've achieved quite a lot for someone so young," she said sweetly as the paperwork was finalized.
Inside, irritation burned. It had taken her decades of flattery and maneuvering to reach this office. Rowan was twelve. And already close enough to be a threat.
"Your duties are simple for now," she continued. "Familiarize yourself with the department. I'll call on you if needed."
She assigned him a desk outside and promptly lost interest. Her attention was fixed elsewhere, on her rivalry with the Auror Office and its formidable head.
Rowan didn't mind.
He spent the morning moving between departments, talking, observing, learning how magic was applied in practice rather than theory. For him, it was efficient. His true body was elsewhere. This was only a projection.
That afternoon, a summons arrived.
The press conference had begun.
The Ministry's top officials were present. Members of the Wizengamot. Dumbledore. Sirius Black himself.
Fudge stepped up to the podium, voice ringing across the hall.
"And now, I present the greatest contributor to this case. Assistant of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Our young hero… Rowan Mercer."
Cameras flashed.
In a neatly fitted suit, Rowan walked onto the stage.
And just like that, the Ministry's newest legend was born.