Disclaimer: whoever thought up the idea of doing disclaimers? I mean,
obviously no one takes the time to read the damn things. I don't even know
why I bother doing them. Oh, wait, yes I do, because they're entertaining
to me and to the people who read them and like to see (read?) me going
insane. Not to mention any *cough* Michelle *cough* names! Hee hee! DOGS
RULE
Andrew fastened Petunia into her carseat in the back seat.
"Ready to go, sweetie?" he asked.
Petunia nodded eagerly. "Do I get to staple again?"
Andrew groaned inwardly, remembering what a mess that'd been, when she'd gone to work with him the month before and stapled everything in sight. Including Tom Riddle's report on cauldron bottoms that were so thick, nothing in them could be boiled. Tom had been furious.
"No, sweetie," Andrew said, getting in the car and shutting his door. "No stapling."
"Aww, but Daddy," Petunia whined.
"No stapling, and that's final," Andrew said firmly.
Petunia pouted the entire ride to the Ministry, refusing to answer any of Andrew's questions. She finally perked up when he got her out of the car and inside the tiny entrance that was, like the Leaky Cauldron, invisible to Muggles.
"Daddy, can we get ice cream after?" Petunia begged. "Please?"
"We'll see," came the absentminded reply.
He walked past the front desk, where the secretaries nodded at him and smiled at Petunia.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he said, nodding back.
"Be careful, Andrew," one of the women warned.
"Tom's in a horrible mood," the other added.
"So you might want to keep your daughter away," they said together.
Andrew groaned inwardly again.
"Wonderful," he muttered.
Tom Riddle was always in a horrible mood, it seemed. On the bottom of the Ministry and far too eager to get to the top quickly, no one really liked the guy. He seemed to just have a cold feeling around him at all times.
"Daddy, why doesn't Tom like anyone?" Petunia asked, rather loudly, right as they were walking past Tom's desk.
"Shh, Petunia," Andrew said quickly, but obviously not soon enough.
Tom glared at them, his black eyes colder than ice. "Hello, Andrew," he said frostily.
"Afternoon, Tom," Andrew said, as agreeably as he could manage. He hurried past Tom's desk and pulled Petunia after him, down a long hallway.
"Daddy, where're we going?" Petunia asked.
"You're just full of questions, aren't you?" Andrew said. He reached the end of the hallway. Directly in front of them was a door, with a sign on it that read "Magic Determining Department." Andrew breathed deeply, then pushed the door open.
"Here goes," he thought.
"Hello," a middle-aged witch, with dark hair pulled back into a bun, greeted them. "How may I help you?"
"I was wondering if my daughter could be tested," Andrew said in a low voice, hoping Petunia wouldn't hear.
Fortunately for him, Petunia had noticed a large toy chest in the corner and was gleefully exploring its contents.
"You think she might not be a witch?" the woman asked, nodding. "I see. I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."
"Of course," Andrew said. He glanced at the nametag on the woman's blouse - Dr. Martins. "Thank you, Doctor," he added.
Dr. Martin crossed to a desk that was in the opposite corner from the toy chest and pulled open a drawer. She rifled through it, found what she was looking for, then pulled out a few papers and scanned each one. Deciding that they were the correct papers, she pulled a pen from her pocket and handed the pen and papers to Andrew.
"Just fill these out and we'll be back in a jiffy," Dr. Martin said. "By the way, what's her name?"
"Petunia," Andrew said, his eyes on the papers. He sat down in a chair and uncapped the pen and started filling them out quickly.
"Petunia," Dr. Martin called. "Could you come with me?"
Petunia looked up, then back down at the toy chest, which she was reorganizing and not doing a very good job of it. She made a face.
"Petunia," Andrew said warningly.
Petunia stood up and stomped over to Dr. Martin. "What do you want?" she asked, not very agreeably.
"I'm going to play some games with you," Dr. Martin answered, smiling down at her.
"Okay," Petunia said, still not happy. "But I want to win all of them," she added.
Dr. Martin laughed. "Maybe."
She pushed another door open and led Petunia through it, into a plain white room, with a table and two chairs sitting in the middle of it.
"You sit there," Dr. Martin instructed, pointing to one of the chairs. "I'll be right back." She disappeared through another door.
Petunia sat down, looking cautiously around. She contemplated running out the door and to her father, but decided against it, fearing they would simply lock her in.
Dr. Martin returned, holding a clipboard and a wand. Petunia squealed excitedly.
"Can I make things go boom with your wand?" she asked, squirming with excitement.
"You can try," Dr. Martin said. She handed Petunia the wand, which had fingerprints all over it, from previous uses.
Petunia eagerly started waving the wand around. Nothing happened.
"Try again," Dr. Martin urged. She watched carefully as Petunia scrunched up her face and waved the wand furiously.
"Nothing's happening," Petunia complained, throwing the wand on the ground. She crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.
"Have you ever been able to make anything happen when you played with your mummy's wand, or your daddy's?" Dr. Martin asked.
"No, but Lily has, and it isn't fair," Petunia said, trying to stick her bottom lip out farther.
"Who's Lily?" Dr. Martin asked, writing something down on her clipboard.
"She's my sister, and it isn't fair that she makes things go boom and I can't," Petunia said. She gave up on trying to pout farther and just stared angrily at the clipboard.
"How old is Lily?"
"Lily's three. I'm four, and Mummy says that no matter how old Lily gets, I'll always be older than her," Petunia bragged.
"I see," Dr. Martin said. She wrote some more, then stood up. "Come on, we're done."
"Do I get to staple things now?" Petunia asked, sliding out of the chair.
Dr. Martin smiled. She'd heard about that story from Tom Riddle, who'd asked the Minister to fire Andrew because his daughter was a "nuisance."
"No, dear, you don't get to staple things," she said, taking Petunia's hand.
"Well?" Andrew asked, standing when he saw Dr. Martin and Petunia. He searched Dr. Martin's face for some clue about what had happened, but her face was expressionless.
"Petunia, why don't you go play with the toys?" Dr. Martin suggested. "I need to talk with your father, and it's about grownup things."
"Okay," Petunia said. "Grownup things are boring." She trotted over to the toy chest and started tearing it apart.
"Mr. Evans, why don't you sit down," Dr. Martin began.
Andrew interrupted her.
"She's not a witch, is she," he said, more of a statement than a question. Dr. Martin shook her head. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't appear she has any magical blood in her," she said.
Andrew fastened Petunia into her carseat in the back seat.
"Ready to go, sweetie?" he asked.
Petunia nodded eagerly. "Do I get to staple again?"
Andrew groaned inwardly, remembering what a mess that'd been, when she'd gone to work with him the month before and stapled everything in sight. Including Tom Riddle's report on cauldron bottoms that were so thick, nothing in them could be boiled. Tom had been furious.
"No, sweetie," Andrew said, getting in the car and shutting his door. "No stapling."
"Aww, but Daddy," Petunia whined.
"No stapling, and that's final," Andrew said firmly.
Petunia pouted the entire ride to the Ministry, refusing to answer any of Andrew's questions. She finally perked up when he got her out of the car and inside the tiny entrance that was, like the Leaky Cauldron, invisible to Muggles.
"Daddy, can we get ice cream after?" Petunia begged. "Please?"
"We'll see," came the absentminded reply.
He walked past the front desk, where the secretaries nodded at him and smiled at Petunia.
"Good afternoon, ladies," he said, nodding back.
"Be careful, Andrew," one of the women warned.
"Tom's in a horrible mood," the other added.
"So you might want to keep your daughter away," they said together.
Andrew groaned inwardly again.
"Wonderful," he muttered.
Tom Riddle was always in a horrible mood, it seemed. On the bottom of the Ministry and far too eager to get to the top quickly, no one really liked the guy. He seemed to just have a cold feeling around him at all times.
"Daddy, why doesn't Tom like anyone?" Petunia asked, rather loudly, right as they were walking past Tom's desk.
"Shh, Petunia," Andrew said quickly, but obviously not soon enough.
Tom glared at them, his black eyes colder than ice. "Hello, Andrew," he said frostily.
"Afternoon, Tom," Andrew said, as agreeably as he could manage. He hurried past Tom's desk and pulled Petunia after him, down a long hallway.
"Daddy, where're we going?" Petunia asked.
"You're just full of questions, aren't you?" Andrew said. He reached the end of the hallway. Directly in front of them was a door, with a sign on it that read "Magic Determining Department." Andrew breathed deeply, then pushed the door open.
"Here goes," he thought.
"Hello," a middle-aged witch, with dark hair pulled back into a bun, greeted them. "How may I help you?"
"I was wondering if my daughter could be tested," Andrew said in a low voice, hoping Petunia wouldn't hear.
Fortunately for him, Petunia had noticed a large toy chest in the corner and was gleefully exploring its contents.
"You think she might not be a witch?" the woman asked, nodding. "I see. I'll need you to fill out some paperwork."
"Of course," Andrew said. He glanced at the nametag on the woman's blouse - Dr. Martins. "Thank you, Doctor," he added.
Dr. Martin crossed to a desk that was in the opposite corner from the toy chest and pulled open a drawer. She rifled through it, found what she was looking for, then pulled out a few papers and scanned each one. Deciding that they were the correct papers, she pulled a pen from her pocket and handed the pen and papers to Andrew.
"Just fill these out and we'll be back in a jiffy," Dr. Martin said. "By the way, what's her name?"
"Petunia," Andrew said, his eyes on the papers. He sat down in a chair and uncapped the pen and started filling them out quickly.
"Petunia," Dr. Martin called. "Could you come with me?"
Petunia looked up, then back down at the toy chest, which she was reorganizing and not doing a very good job of it. She made a face.
"Petunia," Andrew said warningly.
Petunia stood up and stomped over to Dr. Martin. "What do you want?" she asked, not very agreeably.
"I'm going to play some games with you," Dr. Martin answered, smiling down at her.
"Okay," Petunia said, still not happy. "But I want to win all of them," she added.
Dr. Martin laughed. "Maybe."
She pushed another door open and led Petunia through it, into a plain white room, with a table and two chairs sitting in the middle of it.
"You sit there," Dr. Martin instructed, pointing to one of the chairs. "I'll be right back." She disappeared through another door.
Petunia sat down, looking cautiously around. She contemplated running out the door and to her father, but decided against it, fearing they would simply lock her in.
Dr. Martin returned, holding a clipboard and a wand. Petunia squealed excitedly.
"Can I make things go boom with your wand?" she asked, squirming with excitement.
"You can try," Dr. Martin said. She handed Petunia the wand, which had fingerprints all over it, from previous uses.
Petunia eagerly started waving the wand around. Nothing happened.
"Try again," Dr. Martin urged. She watched carefully as Petunia scrunched up her face and waved the wand furiously.
"Nothing's happening," Petunia complained, throwing the wand on the ground. She crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip.
"Have you ever been able to make anything happen when you played with your mummy's wand, or your daddy's?" Dr. Martin asked.
"No, but Lily has, and it isn't fair," Petunia said, trying to stick her bottom lip out farther.
"Who's Lily?" Dr. Martin asked, writing something down on her clipboard.
"She's my sister, and it isn't fair that she makes things go boom and I can't," Petunia said. She gave up on trying to pout farther and just stared angrily at the clipboard.
"How old is Lily?"
"Lily's three. I'm four, and Mummy says that no matter how old Lily gets, I'll always be older than her," Petunia bragged.
"I see," Dr. Martin said. She wrote some more, then stood up. "Come on, we're done."
"Do I get to staple things now?" Petunia asked, sliding out of the chair.
Dr. Martin smiled. She'd heard about that story from Tom Riddle, who'd asked the Minister to fire Andrew because his daughter was a "nuisance."
"No, dear, you don't get to staple things," she said, taking Petunia's hand.
"Well?" Andrew asked, standing when he saw Dr. Martin and Petunia. He searched Dr. Martin's face for some clue about what had happened, but her face was expressionless.
"Petunia, why don't you go play with the toys?" Dr. Martin suggested. "I need to talk with your father, and it's about grownup things."
"Okay," Petunia said. "Grownup things are boring." She trotted over to the toy chest and started tearing it apart.
"Mr. Evans, why don't you sit down," Dr. Martin began.
Andrew interrupted her.
"She's not a witch, is she," he said, more of a statement than a question. Dr. Martin shook her head. "I'm sorry, but it doesn't appear she has any magical blood in her," she said.