It was very late. After reaching her apartment, she could not figure out what to do. Distraught, she left without planning her next move or moving any of her things. She walked over to a small café and ordered a coffee. It only figured that she was no longer thirsty when it arrived. As she was leaving the joint, she spotted twin entrances to male and female restrooms. She suddenly felt the urge to go, and rushed towards the twin entrances. The urgent vanished as soon as it had come when she saw a cloaked figure emerge from the stall opposite to the one she approached. He looked at Helen, did a double take, and then quickly looked away. He hastened away from the stalls. Helen knew that he was the man from the dead end. Helen caught up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. The man jumped.
"What is it?!" he turned around, and did another double take, more pronounced than the last. "Err, can I be of any help, miss?" he asked.
"I would like to know what was going on in that back alley, what with the odd lights and your vanishing act."
The cloaked man did his most violent double take yet. "E-Excuse me?!" he exclaimed.
"You and that other man were pointing short sticks at each other, making some sort of odd lights shoot at each other; yours which knocked the other man unconscious."
"Blast!" the man shouted through gritted teeth. He reached into his cloak and pulled out his stick, pointing it at Helen.
"What are you doing?!" shouted Helen.
"Stupefy!" said the man.
A jet of red light burst from the end of the stick, knocking Helen to the ground and rendering her unconscious.
When Helen awoke, she was sitting in a chair in a small, rectangular room. The room was stark white, nondescript. She tried to stand up, but found that she could not. She was not restrained, but she just could not will herself to leave the chair. The chair was actually quite comfortable, and she didn't feel restrained at all, even when her best efforts failed to get her off of the lounge chair. Suddenly, she heard muffled voices from behind the chair.
"Obviously you did not administer the spell properly. Memory charms are quite difficult, even for an auror…"
"I knew exactly what I was doing. She couldn't have remembered…"
"But she did. Don't worry, you're a rookie, so I don't mind covering for your mistake."
She heard a door open behind her. Two men walked around from behind the chair to face her. One was the man from before, still wearing his black cloak. The other was a skinny man who looked to be upwards of sixty, who also wearing a cloak; this one a dark shade of violet.
"No need to worry, miss," he said to Helen. You won't remember a thing after we're done.
As kindly as he tried to make his words sound, the statement sent chills up Helen's spine. He took yet another stick out of his cloak, and pointed it at Helen. He seemed to be concentrating deeply. And then he spoke.
"Obliviate," he said, enunciating the word clearly and strongly.
Again, a vaguely dazed feeling came over Helen, which soon lifted.
"And that ought to do it," said the violet cloaked man. "In all likelihood, she will forget everything important once she leaves the premises of the Ministry."
"Thank you, sir," said the other man. He waved his own stick over the chair. "Come on miss, let's take you out of here…" he started.
He reached for her arm, but Helen stood up of her own accord, and backed behind the armchair. "I don't know what's going on, but someone better explain why sticks keep being pointed at me. You might not realize, but from my perspective, such things are quite threatening, and I…"
She stopped speaking to listen to the two men, who seemed to be arguing.
"She seems to be well aware of her surroundings."
"Do you mind telling me what you're playing at asking me to perform a memory charm on this girl?"
"You're the Obliviator, you perform them for a living!"
"I did it perfectly! I don't understand how she is retaining her memories!"
"That's what happened to me!"
"Is this some sort of joke, Rawlins?"
"Excuse me, but could one of you tell me what the bloody hell is going on?!" interjected Helen.
The two ceased arguing.
"If it cannot be helped," said the violet cloaked man, "then I can be of no more use to you. Good day, Rawlins." And he left in a huff, rudely pushing Helen aside.
The black cloaked man looked back to Helen. "Could you please wait here?", he asked, gesturing outside of the room. Helen cautiously walked through the door at his beckoning. He followed her, and walked ahead. Helen looked around, and saw that the small room seemed to be adjoined to an office, filled with cubicles, which at the current time were empty. The man walked through a pair of wooden doors, leaving Helen alone in the office.
She looked around. At first glance, the office seemed quite ordinary, but then she looked inside one of the cubicles. She was caught off guard by flashes of movement. She looked closer, and to her shock, found black and white photographs with their subjects in movement. One photograph was of a couple, who seemed ecstatically happy; apparently unaware that they were in a photograph. Gazing at the picture, Helen observed that though they were moving, their state of minds seemed not to change, as they smiled and laughed without end. She pulled her gaze away from the photograph, when another photograph caught her eye. This one featured a brawny young man against a backdrop of what appeared to be open sky. To Helen's surprise, the man seemed to be flying against the backdrop atop some strange vehicle, carrying a red sphere. Helen removed the photograph, which was tacked to the wall. She turned it over in her hands. It appeared to be a normal photograph from every angle, except it looked like a silent film from the front. It seemed so real, yet it had to be some sort of trick image. Suddenly, she noticed a scrawl in the bottom left corner.
"To my fan and friend, Henry Chambers, yours personally, Ewan Carson."
From the context, calling the recipient a "fan", and from the style of the photograph and build of the subject, Helen guessed that he was an athlete, like a football player or something. He didn't look like a football player from what he was doing; carrying a red ball while flying in the sky. She continued to survey the image, when the greatest shock yet hit her. Upon closer inspection, she saw that the "vehicle" that the man was riding high in the sky upon a stick with a straw like material at the end. It was a long, old-fashioned broom.
