The first people to arrive, Amelia was both surprised and relieved to find, were two individuals completely unassociated with Hogwarts. She recognized their faces from the newspaper, and also because they occasionally had reason to be present at Hogwarts. Robert and Khaat Lupin, if she remembered correctly, and with a mind like a steel trap, she always did.
“Thank you, Mr. Lupin, Mrs. Lupin,” Amelia said demurely, giving a nod of respect in both of their directions and trying not to physically balk at her new title. She had just begun getting used to being called Professor Lyons. Now she was Headmistress Lyons, Head of Hogwarts School. She didn’t think any amount of passing time or words of support could possibly accustom her to that title.
When Robert extended the wrapped box toward her, Amelia took it from him, but she was quick to place it on the table behind her. She didn’t trust her shaking hands to hold on to anything too long, and the last thing she needed was a large object to draw attention to the fact that her hands wouldn’t sit still.
“That was very kind of you,” the new headmistress said, if a bit stiffly, in order to convey her gratitude and not have Robert think the wrong thing because she hadn’t held on to the gift, “Please extend my gratitude to your colleagues at the ministry as well.
“And your words are equally kind, Mrs. Lupin. Perhaps too kind, though,” Amelia said with a slight blush, turning her attention to the statuesque woman next to her who wore a shade of peach that certainly would have washed Amelia right out. But, objectively, Amelia noted that it looked lovely on her.
You’re thinking about the color of her dress? Amelia’s subconscious demanded, confused and overwhelmed by the amount of internal dialogue that would be neccessary just to keep Amelia looking halfway decent for the next five hours.
It’s easier to think about than other things at the moment, okay? Amelia defended herself mentally, though keeping her practiced smile on her lips for the older couple.
While she was distracted by the Lupins, the hall had slowly begun to fill, and there were a few people starting to find seats and gather a few appetizers before the meal. Amelia didn’t even want to think that far ahead, because with the meal would come her speech, and heaven knew she wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t ready for any of this, but yet here she was, following orders once again.
She was pleasing so many people and fulfilling so many expectations by accepting this position, it was almost as if she didn’t have a choice at all. The Board of Directors had wanted it, her former professors had recommended her, and her mother had nearly gone through the roof with delight when she had been informed that her daughter had been promoted from lowly professor – a title more embarrassing than worthy of note, as far as Antoinette was concerned – to the lofty position of Headmistress of Hogwarts. She had so many new things to brag about, and so many new opportunities to force social graces upon Amelia and pick out clothes that would be appropriate for the many occasions Amelia would now have to be dressed up. In fact, it was Antoinette who had chosen the navy blue dress Amelia wore tonight – with the approval of the Board of Directors, of course – and although Amelia hated to admit it, her mother had probably gotten at least this part right. She could breathe in it, it was of a respectable length, and the color was befitting of her former Hogwarts House. In fact, if Amelia hadn’t been so terrified of the event for which she wore it, she might even have actually liked the dress.
Amelia was pulled from her internal reverie by a familiar voice, though the words did not fit at all with the voice. It was so offsetting, this lack of match, that Amelia had to look abruptly to make sure her ears had not deceived her. But no, the person who had just come to congratulate her was none other than Jack Kubin, the boy who had been terrorizing her in every position of authority from prefect to Head Girl to Professor. So why the change of tune?
“Thank… you…” Amelia said slowly, not sure if she was walking into a trap.
Don’t question it. Just be grateful, Amelia’s subconscious told her, reminding her to give a polite nod to accompany her thanks.
Because Amelia could not think of one other thing to say to Jack, it was fortunate that a moment later another guest ascended the podium and offered his words of congratulations. This time, it was a fellow professor, Marcus, whom Amelia had found rather intimidating from the moment she had met him. She chalked that intimidating up to a combination of his muscles and natural social skills, both of which she did not have in abundance, but he seemed to be on her side, so she thankfully remembered her mother’s social lessons and managed to formulate an answer that did not involve the phrase, ‘I can’t possibly deserve this. I am only 19.’
“Thank you, Marcus,” Amelia said, training herself to speak more slowly. Hell, she was still training herself to speak much at all in social situations.
This was going to be a long, long night.