Amelia had been to the ministry many times over the years, but she had always come as an accessory to one of her parents. Whether it was with her mother to meet some other socialite and her husband for dinner, or with her father as he made his proposals to the Board of Magical Ethics on new spells he was inventing (the board served to be distracted by his “adorable daughter”, he always said). But this time, Amelia would be within the ministry walls by herself, and for her own purposes.
The Ravenclaw girl was exceedingly nervous as she stood outside the gates of Hogwarts castle, just beyond the boundary of the anti-apparation charm. She wrung her hands impatiently as she checked her watch over and over again. She was perpetually early, as usual, but she didn’t want to have to linger too long around the ministry. She would undoubtedly look out of place there – she was too young to be an employee, but recognizable enough that people might ask questions. So instead, she had deigned to wait outside the castle gates in the Spring air waiting for it to get acceptably late.
Five more minutes, and then I’ll go… Amelia thought to herself, shifting her weight from foot to foot with impatience.
Amelia was nervous for several reasons today, not the least of which being that her parents had no idea that she had signed up for this internship. If they did, Antoinette would have blown a gasket and Frederick would have scolded her for being secretive (after ducking for cover to avoid his wife’s rage, of course). Although for most teenagers, sneaking around behind their parents’ back is sort of a given, Amelia rarely did anything without the explicit permission and approval of her parents.
And what was more, she was nervous because she wasn’t sure she was cut out for this auror business. Raoul was the one who had suggested it, mostly because he knew the side of her that she didn’t readily show to the world. Yes, she was good with a wand and that automatically made her more employable in any magical profession, but she didn’t exactly scream auror to most people that met her. Amelia was reserved, thought things through carefully, and didn’t walk around announcing her viewpoints on dark magic and the people that practiced it. But Raoul, who still knew her better than anyone else (despite not having seen her in over a year), knew that she was quick on her feet, had a temper when it came to things she cared about, and could read people and situations better because of how quiet and observant she was.
But did those traits really make for a good auror? What was she doing? Did she even know? The answer to that was, it seemed, no. She did not know what she was doing. She had spent so many years trying to please her parents and her professors and her tutors and her music instructors and everyone else, that when it came down to choosing a career, Amelia didn’t even know what it is she wanted. She knew she didn’t want to be a concert pianist, like her mother wanted, and her father was too busy trying to defy magical law (“who says you can’t transfigure objects into food?”) to give any input on the matter. But beyond that… Amelia was stuck. She had spent so much time letting other people decide for her, that she seemed to have lost the ability to decide what was best for herself.
Time to go… Amelia thought after the allotted five minutes had passed. Squaring her shoulders, Amelia shook any thoughts of indecision out of her mind and clenched her jaw. With thoughts of the ministry firmly in mind, Amelia turned sharply on the spot and felt the sensation of being sucked through a very tiny hole before rematerializing in the midst of the entrance hall of the ministry of magic.
The guest procedure was a familiar one for Amelia, and after the weighing of her wand and the issuing of a guest pass, Amelia was able to make her way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She had never before been to the auror’s office, so it took her a few extra minutes to find it, but she had given herself plenty of cushion to get lost. Amelia was nothing if not prepared.
When she finally got there, Amelia was greeted by the secretary and given directions. She paused in front of the door to the Department head’s office. The card in her hand listed the room number and the name of the woman she was to shadow for the next few months. When she was certain she was in the right place, Amelia tucked the card away and took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking and gaining entrance to the room.
Given the summons to come in, Amelia stepped into a large but sparsely decorated room. The room itself was not what interested Amelia, however, but rather the woman sitting behind the desk. She had been watching the door, so as soon as Amelia came in she had the woman’s attention. The woman had dark hair and a petite figure, and in spite of her beauty or perhaps because of it, the woman radiated intensity. Amelia had to mentally remind herself not to shy away from this woman (it would hardly give the right impression), and instead moved toward her on the most direct path and stopped behind one of the chairs that faced hers.
“You must be Ms. Dent,” Amelia said, having mentally rehearsed this line a thousand times while she was waiting outside, “I’m Amelia Lyons, as you have probably already deduced. It is a pleasure to meet you,” Amelia continued, gripping the back of the chair in front of her to steady herself and to disguise any nerves that might show if her hands were shaking.