Chapter Two: Rock and a Soft Face
Imagine the look on my face as I stood in the smallest bathroom on the auror level, trying to convince my stomach it wasn't on a roller coaster. My nerves were as tightly wound as Ron's when he missed breakfast.
I had been standing in front of a mirror for fifteen or twenty minutes, alternating between growling something lude about my fiancee and complaining about my life in general. A part of me realized that things weren't so bad, and that the situation was certainly salvageable at present, but another much bigger part of me felt like my life was circling the drain as assuredly as the foamy soap I was using.
I scrubbed my hands together thoroughly. I looked up, anger painted red across my face as my best friend walked into the bathroom. The scowl on his face matched mine, so I quickly forced a smile, hoping it would stick long enough I wouldn't have to make up a story to take place of my misfortune. I certainly didn't want him thinking I was in here for anything other than using the facilities, as Ron, more than anyone else, could read my mood and know exactly what was wrong.
"Harry!" he said, before grabbing his stomach, looking like he was in severe pain. "What are you..." Ron stopped talking, nearly doubled over in his apparent agony. "Nevermind! Step aside, Potter."
I hesitated, just to annoy him and further prolong the torture emanating from his irritable bowels. "What's up?" I asked dumbly, the barest hint of a smile on my face.
"You know very well what's-" he cut himself off by howling in misery. "Get out of the way!" He pushed me aside roughly, causing me to laugh uproariously.
"Nature calls, huh?" I felt like this was an opportune moment to get the hell out of the bathroom before the smell forced me out, so I very quickly went to the door. Just as I pushed it open, a loud, resounding noise came from behind Ron's stall. I yelled behind me, "Hope everything comes out all right!"
I was met at the door by a brown-haired man with freckles covering his young face. "Was that Weasley?" he asked. I searched my memory, recognizing the man as a lower-ranked auror named Joe. He was notorious amongst the aurors for constantly getting away with doing nothing, and I'm sure he had every intention in hanging out in the bathroom with that texty-phone thing I'd seen him carrying around lately.
I'll be honest: the magic required to make an electronic device work in this environment astounded and intrigued me, but I wasn't about to let him fuck the day away.
"Yes," I said, staring the shorter man down. It wasn't often I got to look down my nose at someone, as I was one of the shortest men in the office. "It was."
He seemed to belatedly realize who he was talking to, as he took a hurried step backwards. "Oh, hello, sir. I'd assume it isn't safe to go in the bathroom right now then..."
"I wouldn't let it dissuade you, Joey." I scanned his nametag, noting his last name. "After all, Auror Cocker..." I said, a smile blooming on my face. I struggled not to laugh at his last name and the unfortunate situation I had placed him in. "You must be dying to use the loo to travel so far from your desk." His desk, as well as mine, was all the way across the building. I held the door open for him invitingly, daring him to refuse.
He looked like he wanted to say no, but, to my utter amusement, he merely nodded sadly. He took a deep breath and crossed the threshold just about the time Ron let one rip, splattering against the toilet like a machine gun. I heard the young Auror yelp, and had to stifle a laugh at the poor boy's expense.
If nothing else, the bathroom scenario had put a smile back on my face, so I waltzed over to my desk to prepare myself for the meeting which was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. I wasn't looking forward to being trapped in a meeting this morning, but my mind was primarily focused on the problem presented by Ginny's early return to England as opposed to anything going on with the French.
Any other time the damned woman wouldn't return until late in the evening, maybe even taking her time to shop or visit the fallen Berlin Wall. It was almost as if she instinctively knew I had been up to no good and had hurried back to find out what it was I was up to. I wouldn't put it past her, as she certainly had her mother's eye for stopping idle mischief.
"Ready for the meeting?" My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Albert, coming from somewhere on the other side of my cubicle. Before I could respond, he said, "It starts in ten minutes in Hopkirk's office." Immediately, I heard his footsteps as he travelled to the next cubicle over, repeating his question for their benefit.
"Be right there," I said under my breath, grabbing my official robes and swinging them over my shoulders. With a muttered spell they arranged themselves perfectly over my clothes, and I took a moment to admire myself in the glass picture frame of myself, Ron and Hermione that sat at my desk. I also spared a moment to look at the moving photo of Ginny, who seemed to looking at me as if she too suspected I was up to something.
"Don't look at me like that," I mumbled, turning the picture away from me.
"Fine. I can see when I'm not wanted..." Surprised, I turned to find Patricia was right behind me, laughing lightly, though she was looking at Ginny's picture, which was facing the wall, with undisguised disgust. "Do you always turn your wife's picture away when I walk by?" She ran her fingertips over the nape of my neck as was her custom. It reminded me of the night before.
We collapsed onto my bed and it lurched slightly; I remembered belatedly that it was an iron frame on a hardwood floor, and it would probably be scratched now.
I didn't care.
Patricia's lips pressed against mine, hot and heavy, and her tongue touched mine tentatively, despite the fact that we were already undressed and she was straddling me. A rush of euphoria ran through my body as she took control, pulling back from my swollen lips with a sigh.
"This isn't right, Harry..." she said, though she didn't sound like she wanted to stop at all. "You have a loving girlfriend, fiancee," she corrected herself, "and you don't want to give that up for... well, for one night." She sighed again, and this time she really did sound like she was going to move.
"Patricia," I said, looking in her deep blue eyes and running a hand through her hair. "Please... don't go." She was very still for a moment, and took advantage of her hesitation, kissing her lips gently and trailing my tongue across them.
She melted in my arms, and I pulled her closer to me. Her legs locked around my waist and I rolled her sideways. I didn't rush, but I very quickly worked my hands downward, and she moaned when I put them between her legs for the first time.
I was such a bastard for this, yet I felt I had to do it... to prove to myself that I wasn't just good enough for Ginny, I could be truly happy with someone else, even for only a moment. I wasn't trapped by my friendship with Ron, and my dedication to the Weasleys, and... Voldemort...
Patricia ran her fingertips down my neck suddenly, and I arched my back as she did so. She rolled me back over and straddled me again, this time truly taking control.
As she pressed gentle kisses down my torso, I turned my head to the side. I gasped on instinct, stricken as I could smell Ginny's scent on the pillowcase I was laying on. Patricia continued on, oblivious, as I began to regret ever taking her here.
My neck was turning red, I was sure, but I did my best to ignore her rather apt observation. Still, I hurried to correct her. "She's not my wife..." I sounded lame, even to my own ears, but she merely laughed in her non-confrontational way (not at all like the way she had approached me earlier in the morning).
"Fiancee, wife; same difference to the mistress," she said, before deciding to change the subject abruptly. I didn't miss how her eyes turned sideways to look at Ginny's picture again, or how they looked intensely disdainful for all of two seconds. If I hadn't shagged her the night before, that would have been the proof needed to convince me she wanted me all to herself. "Anyway, I was about to head down to the meeting." She smiled expectantly. "Would you like to go together?"
I really, really didn't, but despite my misgivings, namely the fact that any one of the aurors or clerks could notice our familiarity and put two and two together, I figured I could play it off under the guise of an important discussion. "Certainly," I said, expertly formal, just as Kingsley's especially tall frame loomed over my cubicle. "Minister Shacklebolt!" I exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance. I tried not to look guilty of anything, but I was well-aware of Patricia's closeness. She pinched my arse as I stood there addressing my superior, and it took a tremendous amount of will-power not to react.
"Oh, don't be so damn formal, Harry," he said, his white teeth gleaming as he smiled and shook my hand. "You're coming to the meeting, right? I need to speak to you a moment. Follow me," he said, turning away and speaking briefly to another auror.
Patricia glowered at Kingsley. "Spoilsport," she said, pinching me once more for good measure, this time on my forearm as she passed. "I'll see you in the meeting." I knew she wouldn't want to be long in the Minister's company, as she preferred being ignored, knowing that the more she was around the big wigs, the more likely it was she'd be shit-canned for something she did wrong.
"Bloody meeting," I mumbled, adjusting the collar of my robes. I joined Shacklebolt, who had one of the new clerks by his collar, and wasn't looking pleased. I matched his scowl momentarily, before realizing I was with the head honcho of the ministry. I adjusted my frown to polite interest. "Sir, you needed to speak to me?"
"Get to work, Guilford! I expect that paper work on my desk by the time I get back from the meeting!" The clerk, clearly distraught at being caught loafing by the minister, nearly ran to his desk. Shacklebolt looked like he was holding back a snicker at the young man's expense. "C'mon, Potter. I need to let off some steam, and you're the most level-headed person in this damn office, so let's go." He walked off, not bothering to see if I followed. He continued talking, as I hastened to catch up, not quite able to match his much longer stride. "As I'm sure you've already heard from Forthright, the French Minister of Magic will be dropping in to discuss the giant clan that's taking over the Chartreuse mountains, and request our assistance in keeping the giants away from Muggles in the area."
I didn't quite like the way this conversation was headed, as I sensed his idea of assistance was going to be throwing me headfirst into a war zone with a handful of rookie aurors. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Sir," I started, feeling a little faint just thinking about the Chartreuse mountains, "are you suggest-"
He cut me off with a look. "I'm not suggesting anything, Potter." The no-nonsense auror that had catupulted up the ranks and taken over the Ministry of Magic was staring me down stonily. Though I could never be afraid of the man, I felt a tremor of fear at what he was about to say. "You are the best fighter in the auror department by miles. Probably better than myself," he added, in an unexpectedly self-deprecating fashion. "Getting to the point: The French Minister has asked for you to lead not only the British, but also his own forces in a strike against the giants."
Fuck, I thought to myself, the feeling of fear twisting into trepidation. Screwed by the Minister of Magic all over again... Outloud, I merely thanked the Minister. "Sir, although I appreciate your consideration, I'm sure you're exaggerating my skill. I've no experience fighting giants, and the only two I've ever met are Hagrid and Grawp. They aren't... your conventional giants."
Shacklebolt merely quirked one dark brown eyebrow. "Are you questioning the French Minister's judgement, or refusing the mission Head Auror Hopkirk and I have assigned you?" His eyebrow dropped, whereas the left side of his lips shifted upward. He faced me with a self-satisfied smirk that reminded me distinctly of another auror-turned-Minister - Rufus Scrimgeour. I shook my head reluctantly. "I thought not," he continued. "You will greet the minister with respect, shake his hand, accept the mission, and you are free to select five aurors you would like to join you."
Only five aurors? Against an entire clan of giants? "Sir, with all due respect..."
"It's not enough to fight a giant clan? I know that, Potter, but we're not giving the French every auror we have when it's not a national threat. Besides, his intent is to push them back into their stronghold in the mountains, rather than eradicating them completely. Many more French aurors will be there to assist you, I'm sure."
That was marginally better, but still not enough to take away the sting of being in France for weeks, perhaps months. "Yes, sir," I muttered, noting that Shacklebolt was expecting a response.
The tall man looked down at me. "Harry, you're a great auror, and an even better leader." He lowered his voice, speaking to me man to man rather than treating me like a subordinate. "Hopkirk is retiring in a few months, and if you do this mission for me, I promise you'll be the one sitting at her desk come Spring."
Okay, that was quite a bit better. A large part of me yearned to be the Head Auror; though it would be a significantly more challenging job, I was well-respected by the other aurors and I had a good sense of how to do the job already. Furthermore, I would finally have a chance to change the ministry from the inside, which was something I had been dead set on doing since my Hogwarts' days. The pay raise was merely an afterthought.
"Yes, sir," I said again, this time smiling slightly. Shacklebolt wasn't so bad.
"Oh," he said, disrupting my thoughts. "I forgot to mention one little thing..."
By this time we had reached Hopkirk's office, which was full of aurors and clerks, though there were still some that were working at their desks. I could see through the window that Patricia was there, looking every bit the elegant young lady she was, talking animatedly with a man in royal blue that I found suspiciously familiar. Worry crept into my heart, quick and sudden and nauseating. "And what's that, sir?" I said, only the slightest hint of anger in my question.
Rather than reply, he stepped into the office, and quickly greeted in the man in blue. "Minister Dubois! Great to see you!" The older gentleman, who had a puffy red face with lightly gray hair fixed about his cheeks and chin, though the hair atop his head was a bright blonde, met Shacklebolt just inside the door with a firm handshake. "I trust your trip was uneventful?"
"Oh, yes... I appreciate you taking the time to hold this meeting. I know you are a very busy man, as am I, but these are sufficiently trying times for the French." He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his sharp blue eyes. After a moment's pause, he turned to the blonde next to him, and my stomach did such a backflip I was sure I was about to puke all over the office. "I'm sure you know my daughter, Patricia?"
Patricia... Dubois? She turned and shot me a grin, and I knew she had kept this very important information from me intentionally. How the fuck didn't I know this?
"Certainly!" Shacklebolt said, his booming voice echoing in the small office. Hopkirk winced from behind her desk, and one of the clerks near the back yelped, having been half asleep. "Patricia is one of our best clerks and we're glad to have her!" I knew she was half the clerk Forthright was, and her work ethic applied only to her makeup and hair, so it was obvious Shacklebolt was just trying to make nice with the minister.
"Thank you, sir," Patricia said softly, looking pleased.
"I do hope she has been working diligently," the French Minister said, eyeing his daughter warily. "Not like her seventh year at Beauxbatons!" She giggled lightly, slapping her father on the arm with a smile. "Why, we had to beat the young wizards off with a stick those last six months!"
"Oh, papa," she said, not displeased in the slightest. She glanced over at me again, though I forced myself to look down and away. I couldn't let her see how that last comment had effected me. Besides, that was years ago...
Her father laughed. "It's hard to believe it's been two years already!" Unable to help myself, I coughed uncontrollably. Forthright appeared out of nowhere and slapped me on the back good-naturedly.
"You alright?" he whispered. He looked at my surprised face, and correctly guessed the reason for my coughing fit, though I was sure he knew nothing of last night. "Bet you thought she was older, didn't you?"
"Shut up," I muttered, as all eyes fell on me. "Excuse me, sir... I must have, er, swallowed a fly, or something." I chuckled uneasily, feeling very hot with everyone's attention on me.
"Mr. Potter!" the French Minister exclaimed, his eyes on my scar. I shifted my feet nervously, but nodded in recognition. "You are the very reason for this meeting, so now that you're here, let us get started." He turned to Shacklebolt then, and the young man nodded, allowing Dubois to control the proceedings.
He left Patricia's side and walked over to stand by Mafalda. He waved a hand at her, and she pressed a button on the side of her desk. The wall behind her lit up like a Christmas tree, showing a large map of what I assumed were the Chartreuse mountains. Dots littered across the map moved slowly, and I imagined they must be the location of giants they had tagged with spells. Clever magic, I thought. Hermione would be impressed.
"According to the Chartreuse Compact of 1951, this is the area that the giants are allowed to occupy without fear of reprisal by Ministry forces." Minister Dubois said, conjuring a long, thin pole that reminded me of school back in Surrey. He pointed it at a part of the mountains that looked to my eyes like a crater. I did my best to pay attention, though my head was still abuzz with thoughts of Patricia, and how I had royally screwed my life up in one night. "Now, as you can see from the red dots outside of that area, the giants haven't been keeping their end of the compact."
This was obvious, as at least thirty dots were meandering up and down the surrounding mountains, and there were very few giants still in the crater. "Typically, we'd just allow them to roam in the area, and if a Muggle saw them we'd either Obliviate the poor saps, or convince them they had seen an Automobile Snowman..."
A few of the Muggleborn aurors snickered, though none of them did it very loudly. I kept a straight face, though I was reminded strongly of Arthur Weasley's affinity for Muggles.
The French Minister glanced around the room, but his eyes came to rest on me. "However, the giant clan's behavior as of late has been anything but typical. They have inflicted more damage on property in the last six days than in the previous sixty years, with three Muggles and one wizard being killed in the process." A gasp from one of the female clerk's went unnoticed as he continued. "We suspect that it is not merely giants wreaking havoc in the Chatreuse... we have found boot prints in the same areas as the attacks that could not have come from giants or the unfortunate victims. This leads us to believe that there may be dark wizards controlling the giants."
One of the senior Aurors, a testy middle-aged man with long brown hair, who I only knew by the name Bronson, interrupted the Minister. "Sir, with all due respect, why is it necessary for the French aurors to receive our help in this... conflict. Shouldn't you be able to control your own giants, just as we have ours?" He seemed to rethink what he said then, as if realizing he was a bit out of line. "Sorry, sir... I just, er, I'd like to better understand what you require from us."
Smooth, Bronson, I thought, and from Forthright's smirk, I could see he was thinking the same thing. A few other aurors seemed to take Bronson's side, and began speaking quietly amongst themselves, perhaps forgetting that they were in a room with two of the most powerful men on the Earth.
"That's enough," Shacklebolt said, with an air of finality that was not lost on the people in the room. "Minister Dubois cannot hope to control these giants alone, though his auror forces are as strong as ours. It takes eight simultaneous Stunners to put a typical giant to sleep, and as the Minister stated, these are not typical giants. It is likely that they have been corrupted by dark magic, and are resistant to standard spells. It will require a... more robust approach to handle this, and I think we can all imagine what kind of damage dozens of giants could do with the help of wizards. Even Voldemort," he said, causing some of the clerks to jump in their seats, "never had an entire giant clan at his disposal."
Everyone was silent after Shacklebolt spoke. It was almost a full minute before Dubois cleared his throat, and Hopkirk pressed the button on her desk once more, leaving her back wall as blank as before. "I have already spoken to Minister Shacklebolt privately about this mission, and he has thankfully allowed Auror Harry Potter," he paused, as all eyes turned to me once again, "to lead the entire operation. That means he will be put in charge of a select group of you, chosen by Mr. Potter, as well as the forces that are already at work in the mountains."
Shacklebolt cut in, adding, "We will give Harry the rest of the morning to make his decision about who will travel with him to the Chatreuse, near Saint-Pierre-d'Entremont..." he turned to Dubois, who was smiling, "I hope I didn't butcher that one, Minister."
"Not at all," he said, his smile growing. "That is all for this meeting; I appreciate each of you taking time out of your day to meet with me." I barely held back a snort at his expense, as no one wanted to meet with him, they just didn't have a choice. "You are free to go, but keep in mind that Mr. Potter may choose any of you to assist him." A few of the aurors stood at his announcement and made their way toward the door, but I stopped them in their tracks as I asked the minister a very important question.
"Sir, if I may..." He nodded, beckoning for me to continue. "Am I limited to choosing from only the aurors in this office?"
"No, no... not at all. I will, of course, demand that they are qualified, and employed by the British Ministry, but other than that... do as you please. You are the acting director of this mission, and though the objectives will be passed down to you from Minister Shacklebolt and I, I expect you to have full control of the operations. Is that sufficient, Mr. Potter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well, I won't keep you all away from your duties any longer. Off you go!" He shooed the others out of the office, before speaking over the top of the noise created by their exit. "Mr. Potter! A word, if you don't mind."
I certainly did mind, but it would be pointless to refuse the man. I nodded, waiting for the others to leave. I noted that Kingsley, Mafalda and Patricia also stayed behind. I slowly walked over to the minister, and he greeted me with a firm handshake. His palms were clammy and strange, but he smiled in my face as if he'd known me my whole life.
"Harry," he said, addressing me by my first name and making me feel thoroughly uncomfortable. With his daughter, the woman I had just cheated on my fiancee with the night before, standing right next to us, the tension was about to kill me. She was still smiling like this was her plan all along... to make me meet her extremely powerful father with absolutely no preparation beforehand. It probably was, actually.
Dubois said something that I missed, but it must have been a friendly greeting, as he very quickly cut to the chase. "I hope you understand how difficult it was for us to get ahold of you, and the lengths that we went to trying to get you away from Shacklebolt for a few weeks..."
Kingsley chuckled. "Let's just hope that we have a quick conclusion to this conflict. The auror department will be a mess while he's gone."
Usually I appreciated Kingsley talking me up to powerful people, but in this case, I'd rather they all shut up and let me wallow in my self-inflicted misery, at least for a few minutes. "I'm sure Mrs. Hopkirk will be able to cope, even without some of her best aurors." The Minister glanced at Hopkirk, who was looking at me.
"Do you have anyone in mind, Harry? Perhaps Ron Weasley?" she asked, knowingly. If anything like this was asked of me, I usually chose Ron to accompany me.
"I... haven't really had much time to consider it, mum. I know a few that are great in a firefight, but they might not be up for the trip, or the cold for that matter." I knew that whoever I picked would be forced to go with me or risk a Ministry inquiry, but that didn't mean I wanted to put my best friends in that position. Ron would probably accept just because I asked him.
"Well, Harry," Dubois said, smoothly moving around me and wrapping a careful arm around his daughter, "if I might suggest one... ah, special addition to your team, how about Patricia goes with you?"
"WHAT?" Patricia and I both overreacted to the minister's suggestion, before calming ourselves down belatedly. Hopkin laughed uneasily from behind her desk. "I'm sorry, father, but I don't see-"
"Of course you don't see, child!" he said, laughing in a way that made me think he treated Patricia like this regularly. Her petulant face eyed her father with anger. "I got you this position, at the English ministry, so that you would be able to get out of France and become a great witch! I didn't want your head being clouded with boys, and getting knocked up before your twentieth birthday..."
"Like mother?!"
"Yes, just like your mother!" The French Minister sighed, visibly trying to diffuse some of his anger. "Look, Patricia... this isn't really about Beauxbatons, boys, or even you. Harry is going to need someone he knows well enough to issue his orders to our aurors, and there is no way they'd disregard an order from the Minister's daughter!" He chuckled, as if imagining the poor sod who would even try. "Besides, this is an excellent opportunity to get some field experience, that is... if Minister Shacklebolt and Harry of course, don't mind."
He said it as if it we better well go along with what he said or there would be trouble. Shacklebolt thought it over for a moment, before easily nodding his head, while I was quite a bit more reluctant. How would it look that this clerk, the French Minister's daughter no less, would be accompanying me to the mountains of France? Ginny might not suspect anything fishy with Patricia, but she was already going to be pissed I was going on a mission just a month and a half away from our wedding date.
"Er, not at all, sir. I'm sure Patricia," I cleared my throat, "I mean, Ms. Dubois, is a very capable witch." I refused to look at Patricia, who was probably staring daggers at me right now. It was ironic that she didn't want to go just as much as I didn't want her to go, when last night, I literally begged her not to go...
I decided I needed a headache potion, and quickly.
"Good! Now, Patricia has informed me that you will be meeting us for lunch today. That is very good news! We will discuss the mission, and Patricia's role in everything, while we're eating. I'm sure you'll be very busy this morning getting your affairs in order before you leave." That was an understatement; my affair with Patricia had left my entire life 'out of order'.
He watched me for a moment, and when I forced a smile, he slapped me on the back and moved to join Shacklebolt by the door. "Kingsley and I need to discuss some other business, but I will meet you at the restaraunt at noon, dear." The last comment was for Patricia, who still looked very angry at her fathers actions.
"Yes, sir," she growled, as he left, Kingsley in tow.
Again, Hopkirk laughed uneasily. She seemed suddenly aware of the tumultuous looks on our faces, and I knew she could sense something was very wrong between us, though, as with Forthright, I knew she didn't have an inkling as to what had taken place the night before. "Well, er... I've got to use the loo!" she whispered. The comment was said in a rush, as she bolted for the door. Apparently Hopkirk did not want to be in the middle of this argument, one that was bound to rattle the office walls.
Patricia rounded on me, facing me with a glare. "You could have resisted! You know I'm not going to be able to help you guys in the fucking mountains! I mean, I'm not bad with a wand, and obviously I'm fluent in French, but what the hell am I gonna do against giants?"
"Well," I snarled, "you could have told me you were the French Minister of Magic's daughter!" I turned away from her for a moment, deciding to send my stormy look at the clerks working near Hopkirk's office. One of them caught me looking and scurried away, looking worriedly over her shoulder. "How do you think I felt, when the first time I realized you were nineteen and the Minister's daughter, I was standing next to your bloody father!" I scowled, turning back to look at Patricia, who was trying to control her emotions with very little success.
"What the hell does that matter?" If anything, trying to turn the argument against her only made her more angry; her eyes narrowed sharply, and she growled again. "My father shouldn't have anything to do wit this, and don't you dare act like you are this... elder wizard!
"Oh, believe me, it matters! And now I have to babysit you in the bloody Chartreuse mountains, just because your dad wants you to grow up and get some bloody field experience!" I scoffed, causing her face to burn bright red.
In fact, for a moment, she looked angry enough to attack me bare-handed, though she fortunately restrained herself. "Grow up? Grow up? You weren't asking me to grow up when I fucked you last night!" She yelled the last few words, causing more than a few heads to rise outside the office, though I couldn't tell if they had actually heard what she said. In that moment, it didn't matter to me, as I was so angry I couldn't keep from yelling back.
"Look, Patricia, you are too young and too unexperienced for this mission! You haven't been through a day of auror training, and now you're father is forcing me to take you to fight an entire giant clan! Think about it! Sixteen foot tall men that swing tree trunks like clubs, and would rip a cattle's head off with their bare hands! And dark wizards may be in control of their every move!"
She had been angrily gripping Hopkirk's desk, but suddenly she looked up, catching my eye. She was unexpectedly breathless. "Oh, my god," she said in fright, as if she'd just now realized what I had been telling her the entire time. "We're going to be fighting... giants?"
Her whispered statement caught me off-guard, and despite my best efforts, I dissolved in a fit of giggles. Her appalled face was even worse; I was soon guffawing so hard I held my sides. My life was going to shit, my mind was spinning, and I couldn't help thinking that giants wouldn't be able to hurt me at all.
Ginny was going to kill me before I ever got to France.
-end of Chapter Two-
