There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment to be found at the Ministry during the run-up to Christmas. The analysts and cataloguers would ferry around paperwork and worry after those who hadn’t filled in the right bits or filled it in at all while the specialists and paper pushers would try and get away with doing as little work as possible and the governmental machine would pipe along merrily until Christmas Eve when it would shut down temporarily until boxing day in the hope that nothing too disastrous would happen between then and reopening. Of course, inevitably, something would go wrong but until that window arrived, everyone concerned with the Ministry would try not to think about it.
Damage control was incredibly important for the Ministry that particular week. It seemed as though anyone high up enough on the great chain of command was not home and everyone else was at Hogwarts, helping with the repairs and everything else that went along with the siege of a deranged wizard on the school and the arrival of a blood-thirsty werewolf pack. During that time, Arren had overheard more than her fair share of rumours and confusion as to what would be done about the latter. The problems with the school ran deep, beyond cosmetic, but what worried most Ministry workers and officials was the emergence of this pack and Arren, too, found herself at a loss as to what to do about them. Thankfully, though, no one asked after her opinion.
After a trying morning trying to sort out the other historical analysts while their fabled leader and his group of specialists conducted recordings of the events at Hogwarts, Arren had about had enough of the Ministry of Magic. She was ready, now, for the leave of absence that was coming up and the two weeks that would commence would be filled with nothing. She’d clear her agenda and she’d lie about in her pyjamas eating chocolate and enjoying time with her sister in between Tibby going out with her friends and doing whatever it was that students did ‘nowadays.’ So, in an effort to keep her mind off of the issues both inside and out of the Ministry, Arren decided to take a break: so she apparated to Hogsmeade.
When she arrived, the village was awash with fresh snow and a frenzy of activity. Arren tucked herself more warmly in her coat and trudged through the village, listening absently to the carollers somewhere down towards the centre of town singing old wizarding songs that she’d largely forgotten, herself. The first order of business was to have a quick look in the bookshop there but then afterwards Honeydukes called to her and Arren hurried merrily down the road, dusting herself off and scuffing her feet on the rug before jumping up into the sweet shop.
Once she’d crossed the threshold, a jet of hot air washed over her and Arren reached to unbutton her coat. She smiled a little, mostly to herself, and ran her fingers through the front of her hair, damp with melted snow. From there she began to weave about the shelves, picking up the few sweets she liked before loading up on chocolate frogs - she was determined to eventually collect all of the cards. Her early years spent growing up unaware of the wizarding world had certainly set her on the back foot but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.
It was as she began to move towards the teller behind the counter that Arren caught sight of a flash of red hair. She turned a little, pausing to drop some of her confectionary items into the basket she held, and afterwards sought out the place where the colour had come from. She found the source easily and her eyebrows shot up at the sight of a pretty redhead who looked half-familiar to her but she wasn’t entirely sure where she’d seen the younger girl’s face. Undaunted, Arren approached.
“Merry Christmas,” she offered up by way of introduction. “Are you a fan of liquorice wands?”
Smooth, a derisive little voice piped up in the back of her mind. It had definitely been too long since Arren had played this game and, yes, she was rusty but you had to give a girl some brownie points for trying.
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