Cordially Invited
"Whatever it was, it was defiantly magical," Coach told a man named Shamus McLaughlin, the Department head of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. My whole entire softball team was crammed into a small office while a man asked us questions and took notes on what had happened last Thursday. The middle aged man nodded and scratched the little goatee that was hanging off of his chin. He looked up at us and folded his hands with his elbows on his desk; he looked like he wanted to talk but didn't know where to begin.
"It would seem," He began as all the bodies in the room leaned forward eager to hear what he had to say, "That it wasn't anything evil or malevolent, but rather it was a jinxed bludger." He sat proudly giving his diagnosis of the situation, but soon slumped ever so slightly as he noticed that we all had no idea what he was talking about. "A bludger is from the sport of Quidditch, a popular game over in England and basically everywhere else in the world except here in the United States. In a nutshell Quidditch is their equivalent to Quodpot." Finally we all nodded beginning to understand what he was talking about. We had all heard of Quodpot, heck, we had even been to a few matches, but where we lived it wasn't the most popular sport around.
"So that ball was jinxed to fly at us?" Jess questioned.
"Well, yes, but not exactly," Mr. McLaughlin answered, "The ball is enchanted in the game to try and hit people off their broomsticks, but this one was further jinxed. Bludger's don't normally fly out of the Quidditch Pitch and start terrorizing muggle sporting events."
"Okay, what is this game and why don't I play it?" Our residential thrill seeker, Carrie, questioned. I shoved her trying to get her to shut up, this could be something serious, and this McLaughlin guy didn't seem like he was kidding.
"So, someone messed with a magical item? Why aren't we in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Coach questioned him. She had her scolding face on, which was interesting. We all knew that her tone was perfectly fine, but if looks could kill, you would be shoved in a coffin, six feet under in less then six seconds. McLaughlin saw this look and gave her one back, but it was more like he was in the middle of laughing then decided to be angry so he looked like a clown.
"They are holding a full investigation as well, ma'am. All the departments tend to work together in order to get the job completely done," He retorted making coach look like an idiot. She didn't much like that, you could tell by her increasingly hardening face, but she didn't have much else to say. We all shifted uneasily on our feet, the whole time we had been basically hiding behind her like she was our shield. A bunch of fourteen and fifteen year olds didn't need to be in the Ministry of Magic of the U.S.A., and most of all, we didn't need to be here on a Saturday morning.
"Is it over yet?" Jess mumbled under her breath, looking to the floor in utter, complete, and over powering boredom.
"I have yet to hear any fat lady sing," I told her and shot her a smile. I had my arms crossed and was suddenly a lot more interested in whatever I was doing with my foot, and at the moment that would have been tapping it on the floor. Yep, this sure was interesting. I had to wake up before the crack of dawn, which is a surprisingly dark time in the morning, to get ready and get all the way to Washington DC in order to make this stupid meeting and give my 'eyewitness account' to this guy standing here. And no, I really didn't want to.
"The Ministry is putting memory charms on all the muggles present at the game so they won't remember a thing. In fact, all they will remember is Ms. Johnson walking up to bat and giving that impressive hit that I have heard so much about," McLaughlin gave me a have crooked smile to show his congratulations. I offered him a nervous one back but did more slouching and attempts to hide then actual smiling. Lets me honest, that was by far the creepiest and oddest thing I had ever seen. I looked around and my whole team was silently laughing at me. Wonderful. As if I didn't do enough stupid things already I would now get the never ending barrage of freaky smiles.
In my moment of self pity I had zoned out and completely missed that everything was getting wrapped up. Coach shook the mans hand and the team started to shuffle out of the cramped office, I spun around as fast as I could eager to get out too. But, of course, nothing ever works out the way I want it so Shamus McLaughlin summoned me back into his office for a private chat.
"Amelia Johnson, I would like to have a word," A word. Ha. If this man could offer a simple word I might have been able to get a word back and we could have a conversation! I had some serious doubts that that would ever occur since he seemed to like being in charge. Who I was I judge really? I had only met him maybe thirty minutes ago; did I really have the right to actually judge him? Yes. I really think I did.
I planted a fake smile on my face and twirled around on my heels, offering him a wave. I took some planned steps towards his desk and stood in front of a chair, which he motioned me to sit down in. While he was taking a seat behind his own desk, I took a seat in the chair that wasn't nearly as nice as his. I shifted in the wooden chair, trying to find some comfort in his insipid office, but it was futile. I managed to just sit there, crossed my legs and folded my hands around my knees. I waited and quietly watched as he shuffled around with some pieces of parchment on his desk and attempted to organize them in a few seconds. He pulled one small piece out of the mess and neatly placed the rest in a pile on the corner of his desk. How he managed to find free space on it, I don't think I will ever fully know.
"The man who wants to talk to you should be here in a few minutes," Mr. McLaughlin told me, "He sent me a note saying he would arrive by nine." He flashed me the piece of parchment and I quickly read what it said:
Hold Amelia Johnson, I will be there by nine o'clock.
- Alexander Meene
Hold Amelia? What? I hadn't done anything wrong! I probably saved that pitchers life. There was no way I was going to jail! I hadn't done anything wrong! Where were my rights? I deserved a lawyer! Or something. This wasn't fair! The battle raged on in my mind and I tried to calm myself down. There could be a number of reasons this 'Alexander Meene' wanted to hold me in this godforsaken office! This was punishment enough… I made a mental note to tell him that. They couldn't whisk me away to jail! I was a minor! Ha ha! I had them beat now, facts were on my side!
It was then the door burst open and a man wearing emerald green cloaks billowed into the room, like he was being pushed in by the wind. He was a tall man, and a little older then Mr. McLaughlin. He had no beard, but the black hair on his head was turning gray, well, what I could see of the hair that didn't have a pointed hat on top of it. He blew past me and went strait to McLaughlin who was now standing. "Hello, how are things?" The man who just entered asked shaking his hand. I stole a glance to my watch and saw it was 8:57; this must have been Alexander Meene.
"I got here as fast as I could but those damn portkeys are so touchy sometimes," He said slowly turning and facing me. He has a very heavy accent and there was no doubt in my mind that he had come strait from England. He offered a smile and looked at me through his black rimmed, square glasses. This smile, thankfully, was friendly and not weird to look at. It made me feel a lot better about the whole situation and I was under the impression now that I wasn't going to be shipped to jail anytime soon.
"Well then," He said jovially, "So, you're the one I saw at that Softball game. That was quite an impressive hit you showed us."
I shrugged and smiled smugly, "Well, you know. It's not like homeruns aren't all that uncommon…"
"Erm, no," He interrupted me with another smile on his face, "I'm talking about the one you made before that. Your bat against the bludger."
"Oh," I said slouching ever so slightly in my seat. I had to admit, when I made that hit I really proud of myself and I decided I would gloat about it a little. Now that hit had woken me up at 5:00 in the morning, made me walk to school so my team and I could use the Floo-Network to get here, wait in an office, talk to Mr. McLaughlin for a half an hour, and now I was talking to someone else. All in all, not my idea of a perfect day.
"Why were you there?" I asked him, suddenly realizing that he was a wizard and at a muggle sporting event; that didn't happen to often.
"I'm here on business," Meene explained, "I'm here on personal business really. I also am very fond of learning about muggles, so a friend told me to go check out that softball game at your school," He took a pause and leaned over to Mr. McLaughlin, "It's a really great educational system you have here."
Here, where I live, you have choices on how you would like to be educated. You go to your normal boarding school for the first three years of your education and learn your basic magic skills, and then you have a choice to either stay with your boarding school, or go to a more muggle oriented school. The Ministry says this choice is for the new generation so that wizards can better learn how to interact and get along with muggles. Whatever the reason is, you can go a High School. You still learn magic and take all your normal classes, but you also learn some muggle things too. There are also sports teams, like softball, soccer, lacrosse, basketball, and others. Basically, after your first three years of boarding school you can choose to go to an average muggle High school…except learn magic.
"In any case, I would like to make you an offer," Alexander Meene told me. I raised an eye brow, interested in what he was going to say next. "How would you like to come to the Academy of Quidditch?" He had a giant smile on his face and looked outstandingly pleased with himself. My expression didn't change at all. What kind of sick offer was that? An Academy? And for Quidditch? I had a life here and I wasn't going to change it, there was no way I was going to a new school. Plus, I didn't even know how to play Quidditch, I didn't even know what was a bludger was when Mr. McLaughlin had mentioned it a few moments ago.
"With all due respect sir, I don't think I can take you up on that offer," I told him with an apologetic look on my face. Meene cocked his head, confused, and turned around and looked at Mr. McLaughlin.
"Has anyone told her?" He asked, like I wasn't even there. Mr. McLaughlin shook his head in response. There was a nod from Meene's part as he turned back around to look at me. "Let me explain. Your father and I go way back, before he moved to America. We played Quidditch together at our old school: The Academy of Quidditch. He got a job with the ministry when he graduated and I was given a teaching job there. Soon your father moved to America and I was promoted to Headmaster for my school. That's the short version of the story, I'm sure he could give you far more detail with a little more time. But, we kept in touch and when he informed me that he was to be transferred…"
"Transferred?" I asked shooting forward in my chair, clutching to it and looking up at him. My eyes were red, my dad hadn't told me a thing about being transferred, hell, my dad hadn't even told me half of this! I couldn't believe my ears, and I couldn't believe that this was happening. I was getting fed all this information from a complete stranger when I should have been hearing it from my dad! I couldn't believe him! Why didn't he tell me that he was being transferred? "Where is he being transferred?" I asked, flustered and raising my tone.
"London, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but you need to know. Your father was the one who asked me to watch your game, and I think you have a lot of potential as a Quidditch player. You have a lot of choices for schools, but keep in mind The Academy. Talk it over with your father, and he will have more information. Now, I am sorry but I have to go," He shook Shamus McLaughlin's hand one more time and made his way to the door, "Keep an open mind Amelia, but we will need your decision soon."
I sat for a moment sorting through everything this man had just told me, this 'Professor Meene'. Sourly, I wondering why dad hadn't told me any of this and why all this had to be happening to me. Taking a few deep breaths I looked up at Mr. McLaughlin who looked empathetic and surprisingly silent.
"Your father should be waiting for you in the lobby," He told me. I nodded and got up from the chair looking only and the door and walked to it as quickly as I could. My dad was about to get a few words from me and we would see about him getting transferred.
