The losses caused by the war were not only lamentable, but they also caused a shortage of the witches and wizard of the high caliber required by the Ministry of Magic. Because the Ministry could no longer afford to keep talented people locked into a single department, an increasing number had more than one job. The Ministry thus made a practice of cross-training as many of its employees as it could. Anyone who showed an interest was heartily encouraged to expand their skills. Emergency magic was especially needed, since the fighters, and those who patched them up, suffered the most. Every week, the latest class offering was distributed via flocks of purple memos that circulated the building. Hermione plucked one such flapping paper jet from the air as it circled her desk in the office of the Committee for Experimental Charms. It wriggled briefly before unfolding itself in her hands. Ah, Legilimency! she thought excitedly. Legilimency wasn’t offered very often, since there were very few wizards of skill notable enough to teach it. Opening her appointment calendar, she copied the date in the free space for the next week, and touched the square with her wand to highlight it with a marquee of blinking dots. She scribbled her name on the memo and then tapped it with her wand. The memo quickly refolded itself and flapped back into the air. It dipped its wings briefly in salute, and zoomed away to deliver her RSVP. Hermione had been working through the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad’s training series. She had already passed their basic exams, and was hoping to take the advanced Oblivation qualifications by the end of the year. Though she enjoyed the tinkering of Experimental Charms, she was also drawn to the on-the-spot challenge of Accidental Magic Reversal. She had done well on her last call, earning praise for reversing a particularly ugly splinch. A pair of lovestruck teenagers had attempted to Apparate someplace more romantic and wound up stuck half-way through a library stack. (Hermione had gotten them sorted out but tsked over the thoroughly mangled state of the innocent bookshelf.) She was secretly glad of the unfortunate short-handedness of the Ministry. If not for that, she would never have had the opportunity to work in Accidental Magic Reversal and so have the best of both worlds. The week passed with great anticipation for Hermione. Finally, her calendar sounded a great fanfare. Hermione double-checked the room number in her calendar, put away the heavy wires that had been charmed into springs that were rolling and coiling in a box on her desk; she would finish inspecting them later. She checked her hair in a small mirror that she pulled from a desk drawer. A few wisps had escaped from the bun she had made of her hair (flammability was a constant hazard in her work) and judged that she was presentable. She then hung up her work smock, picked up a quill and parchment, and walked down the hall. Hermione idly brushed away a memo that had flown too low, and entered one of the training rooms of the Accidental Magic Reversal department. It looked like a cross between a conference room and a Muggle gymnasium, with a blackboard and a small group of desks arranged in a semi-circle at one end and a great number of mats and cushions at the other. A few wizards from Magical Games and Sports were already there, discussing the Wimbourne Wasps’ chances for the Quidditch Cup. A small witch, whom Hermione knew from Apparition Testing, nodded in greeting. As she settled herself into an open seat, she noticed a tall man she didn’t know sauntering into the room. He had slightly shaggy, fashionably unkempt blond hair. She decided he must be an Auror. He had the almost-arrogant confidence of the Ministry’s elite. As he moved, she also noticed a flash of green was revealed underneath his black cloak. The Aurors had recently begun to equip themselves with dragon-hide body armor, worn over a black jumpsuit. The armor’s spell-reflecting properties helped to avoid the worst effects of offensive spells. The tough hide was also handy for protection from flying debris during their frequent duels. Hermione was interrupted in her musing by the entry of Griselda Marchbanks. Professor Marchbanks was an O.W.L. examiner, whom Hermione had encountered during her time at Hogwarts. She was an ancient witch, but still entered the room with an air of unmistakable authority. She reached the blackboard and tapped it with her wand. The words “Introduction to Legilimency” appeared in large prim handwriting. The conversations stopped, and all faces turned expectantly towards the elderly witch. “Good afternoon, everyone!” said Professor Marchbanks, in the over-loud manner of one who was a. bit hard of hearing. The assembly murmured a deferential greeting. She was a familiar face, but still an intimidating one. The Magical Games and Sports wizards sat up straighter in their seats. “Today we will be discussing the principles and uses of Legilimency. It is a difficult and complex skill, but I know you are all very accomplished wizards; otherwise, you would not be in my class. Later, in this session, you will partner up and try it yourselves,” she said, gesturing towards the cushioned practice area. “Now, we all know that Legilimency allows one to view the images that are currently traversing a person’s mind. In emergency field magic, Legilimency can be used to find out what happened to an injured witch or wizard who is conscious but unable to speak. This information is invaluable to a wizard attempting a counter-curse.” Hermione copied the notes with great concentration while Professor Marchbanks continued her lecture, and occasionally added a word or a diagram to the blackboard. There was a scratching of quills on parchment as her students took notes on the proper wand technique, which paused during the review of Occlumency. Hermione glanced sideways, and noticed that the blond Auror took no notes but leaned back casually in his seat with a slightly bored look on his face. “A strong Legilimency spell is of vital importance in trying to find out what has happened to an injured witch or wizard, so that one may best correct it. Most wizards are skilled in neither Legilimency nor Occlumency. However, our colleagues, if injured, often will reflexively try to block you as you attempt to help them. Even a weak Occlumens will make your job far more difficult.” The white-haired witch tapped the board with a flourish; it was wiped clean once again. “Now that we’ve covered the basics, it’s time for all of you to give it a whirl. I have paired you up according to skill level. This way, you’ll have a bit of a challenge without being overmatched,” said Professor Marchbanks. “When I call your names, find your partner and form a line in the practice area.” She fitted a pair of half-moon spectacles to her nose and consulted a list that she withdrew from a pocket of her robes. “Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy,” she read.

A/N: Wouldn't you hate to have that sort of information sprung on you? Seems like it's not going over well with Hermione either. Read and review!