Note: Rated M for strong language!
There is lots of boring chit chat, I'm afraid! But we have a whole raft of OCs to introduce! It's also a bit of an update on where things stand with various people.
3: First Day
All too soon Pandora found herself waking up to the first day of the new school year, and not even the thought that it was her last year at high school could bring the squib much cheer.
She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed, pulling on her dressing gown and making a beeline for the bathroom, where she spent a while washing her face in the sink, in between scowling at her reflection in the mirror. She returned to her room a short while later to find that her mother had left her freshly pressed school uniform hanging up upon the wardrobe's door handle. As she pulled on the school blouse and set about tying the maroon and black striped tie around her neck, she could recall some years previously dropping in on Uncle Timothy with her mother, fresh back from buying new school uniform in town to find Jackson sprawled upon the sofa in Uncle Timothy's sitting room.
"God, look at that!" Jackson had chuckled when Pandora had consented to revealing the contents of her shopping bag to him. "Oakhurst Manor, is it? Posh girl, are you?"
"Mum and Uncle Timothy went to Oakhurst Manor too." Pandora had informed him, as if this were some sort of justification, especially since she could not recall ever being referred to as posh before.
Jackson had smirked.
"I was at Eddington High when I was your age...my mum tried to move me over here to Moorbrook Hill School when we moved in with your uncle, but there weren't no spaces. You should count yourself lucky, going to a fancy school like Oakhurst! The kids at Eddington High would eat a pretty little rich girl like you for breakfast!"
Pandora supposed this was probably true.
But that didn't make her feel particularly grateful that morning as she wandered reluctantly downstairs to get some breakfast.
Her prospects for the day grew abruptly worse before she had even finished her first slice of jam on toast.
"We had an owl yesterday, Pan." Teddy informed his daughter as he discarded that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet in favour of his cup of tea. Carrie abandoned her own breakfast to go and bellow up the stairs in an attempt to coax a still sleeping Imogen out of bed as Pandora graced her father with an inquiring glance.
"Oh?"
"Yes, Nana wrote to tell us about something Grandad spotted in the Prophet the other day. An advert? She says she showed it to you?"
Pandora felt her heart sink as she heard her mother give a loud sigh of exasperation from the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh...that..." the squib mumbled, taking a half-hearted bite of her toast.
"I think it sounds like a brilliant idea." Teddy said, apparently intent on ignoring her lack of enthusiasm. "It would be good for you to meet some people who are in the same circumstances as you are, wouldn't it?"
"Dad..."
"You might make some new friends. That's always nice, isn't it?"
Pandora failed to keep the scowl from crinkling her forehead.
"You make it sound like I'm definitely going, Dad. I don't want..."
"There's a meeting this evening, love!" Carrie called as she made her way back through the little kitchen and into the dining room. "Dad sent an owl to the address on the advert, asking a thing or two. They wrote to say you'd be welcome to go along. They seem very nice, don't they Ted?"
"Yes, they do." Teddy agreed as Carrie dropped down into her seat beside him, and at the look their daughter offered her the muggle pointed out:
"You don't have to go if you don't want to, Pan. But Dad and I think if you made an effort just this once...see what it's like, you never know you might really enjoy yourself! Dad can apparate you over there, it's in...London...?"
"Yes, it's in London. Not far from Diagon Alley. And if I'm not home from work in time I'm sure Immy could apparate you over there...she's got a day off again, hasn't she? The Quidditch stadium is closed for maintenance until tomorrow, she said..."
"You could go for just half an hour! Then Dad or Immy can come and get you! How does that sound?"
"Doesn't sound too bad, does it Pan? You could give it a go, couldn't you?"
Finding herself somewhat backed into a corner as both parents smiled brightly at her, Pandora supposed there was only really one answer that she could give.
"I suppose I could..." she mumbled, and her father abandoned his empty mug down upon the table in triumph, declaring:
"Excellent!"
"You make sure you're not late home again, then!" Carrie told him as he turned to slip an arm around her shoulders, drawing her towards him so that he could press a brief kiss to her lips.
"I won't be. There aren't any raids today, Deputy says we're to clear the backlog of paperwork else she'll be demanding we all do overtime! Not that she's done any paperwork herself for the past Merlin knows how long..." As he rose to his feet, straightening his scarlet Auror robes, Carrie found herself wondering aloud:
"How in Merlin's name did Jasmine Wickes get promoted as your mum's replacement with a track record like hers?"
"She has a better arrest record than the rest of us put together. I suspect Harry fought tooth and nail for her to get promoted."
"But she drives him up the wall..."
"Maybe, but she's comforting to him. She's comforting to all of us, she keeps the status quo in tact...follows the example Mum set, doesn't shake things up or try to make big grand changes. Everybody was perfectly happy when Mum was the Deputy, and Jasmine always said she wanted to keep it that way. Sometimes it's like Mum didn't even retire. Somebody tells me the Deputy is busy drilling the new cadets down in the gymnasium and as I'm walking down there I hear this voice barking instructions...and for a second I feel shocked when I walk in and find it's Jasmine stood there in the Deputy's robes and not Mum..."
"Jasmine'll be eligible for retirement herself soon enough."
"I know. And she'll take it as early as she can, too. What with Isaac's health being so poor. I'm dreading it, you know. I'm dreading the day Jasmine retires..."
"Who's going to be Deputy after that?"
"Merlin knows...Harry could throw the towel in too around the same time...he's around Jasmine's age after all."
"Maybe they'll do it together." Pandora suggested, and her father's face contorted in a rather pained expression at the notion as he muttered:
"They couldn't possibly think of doing that...there would be chaos."
"Who's in line after them? If Ron goes too?"
As he reached to snatch up his bag from where he had left it by the toaster, Teddy slung the satchel over his shoulder and mused:
"Well I suppose next senior to them is Xander Pikket. I'd bet money he's the next Head of Department. The next Deputy...that'll probably be a toss up between Hale Grover and Anna Sprout."
"Not Burton Hayes?"
"Well I suppose it's possible...if the poor man ever makes it out of St. Mungo's. They've had him in there for over two months, you know." Teddy's expression was momentarily bleak before he strode over to lean to drop a kiss atop his youngest daughter's head, brightening as he said: "Have a good day at school, Pan."
"Have a good day at work, Dad." the squib mumbled through a mouthful of toast.
"Don't be late, will you?"
"I won't, Dad."
"Good. None of all that dawdling like we had last year! It's your GCSE exams this coming summer, we can't have any of that..."
"No, Dad."
"And no buying chips on the way home, either! We've got perfectly decent food in the fridge!"
Pandora rolled her eyes, but he had already disappeared into the living room in search of the pot of floo powder. She finished her breakfast in silence as Carrie retrieved the abandoned Daily Prophet.
"I've left your lunch by the fridge." Carrie informed her some while later when Pandora had cleared her plate and rose to her feet.
"What is it?"
"Sandwiches. Cheese and pickle. There's a banana in there too."
"I don't like bananas, Mum."
"Well Dad took the last of the apples and despite what you think you can't live off chips and chocolate, Pan. Eat some fresh fruit, it's good for you."
Pandora puffed her cheeks as she wandered into the kitchen to snatch up the lunchbox. Quite frankly she could not be bothered to argue, so she consented to calling:
"Thanks, Mum!"
"Give Immy a shout on your way out, won't you love? I want a word for her before I leave for work!"
As she went to snatch up her school bag from beside the front door, shoving the lunchbox inside, Pandora consented to bellowing up the stairs:
"IMOGEN?! QUICK, THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!"
"Pan!" Carrie scolded from back in the dining room as there came the distinct sound of movement from upstairs, and Pandora called back:
"What? It's working!"
"WHAT?!" Imogen's voice shrieked half a second later as Pandora heard the bedroom door being flung back on it's hinges.
"Only kidding! But since you're up, Mum wants a chat!"
There came the sound of stomping footsteps and Imogen appeared atop the stairs, pulling on her dressing gown.
"Hilarious!" the young witch snapped, shooting her sister an utterly poisonous look.
Pandora reached to pull open the front door with a snigger.
"See you later, Im." she called as Imogen shuffled off towards the dining room, and in return Imogen suggested:
"Sod off before you miss registration! Have a nice day, say hello to the girls for me."
The house that Teddy and Carrie Lupin had purchased when Pandora had been five years old, the family of four having previously been crammed into a cramped and somewhat rundown flat, was in a small cul de sac of semi-detached houses surrounding a green. It was just a short walk from Oakhurst Manor School and all too soon Pandora found herself approaching the school gates. Numerous children dressed in smart maroon blazers and too-large black school jumpers trooped through the black painted gates, appearances a tell tale sign of a brand new school year. Shoes had been polished, trouser hems had been sewn, skirt pleats had been ironed and hole-ridden jumpers had been replaced with oversized new ones in the hope that they might grow to fit them.
Pandora slowed her pace as she began to cast her eyes around for a familiar face, and it did not take long for her to spot one. Squeezing past a couple of babbling Year Nine girls, Pandora came to a stop beside the girl in question and greeted:
"Hey, Libs!"
Pressed up against the wall beside the gates, hugging an open rucksack to her chest as she watched the other children pass, Libby Jade Jenkins did not bother to look round as she murmured:
"Hi Pan."
"Any sign of Claire yet?" Pandora wondered, and Libby adjusted her grip upon her bag as she said:
"Nope."
Libby, who had been Pandora's friend ever since their first day in Year Seven, was a short, slightly tubby girl with short curly straw coloured hair and watery blue eyes. By far the brightest of Pandora's school friends, Libby had gained entrance to Oakhurst Manor via a non-fee paying scholarship and forever had her nose buried in books.
"What's wrong with your bag?" Pandora asked, eying the object that Libby was clutching to her chest, and the girl gave a sigh and explained:
"The zip broke at the end of last term. Here...hold it a minute."
Pandora accepted the bag with a slight wince at the weight, no doubt a result of the countless books that Libby kept on her at all times. As Libby set about tugging somewhat hopelessly at the hem of her frayed jumper that was several sizes too small, trying to make it lye flat, Pandora asked:
"How're things?" She strongly suspected that things were not good, for Libby was usually cheerful at the prospect of a new school term, and unsurprised when Libby muttered:
"He's gone."
"What...Uncle Kevin?"
"He's not my bloody uncle! He's just some weirdo, he's nothing to do with me!"
"Sorry...Kevin, then. Kevin's gone?"
"Yep."
"Since when?"
"Last week."
"Oh dear...are you going to be alright?"
Libby gave up fiddling with her jumper and reached to snatch back her school bag, hugging it tightly to her chest.
"She was swigging from a bottle of vodka when I left this morning." she informed Pandora frankly, and Pandora supposed that probably meant no, she wasn't going to be alright in the slightest.
Libby lived with her mother Frankie in a flat on the estate opposite Eddington High School, and when Pandora had first met them Frankie had worked as a cleaner at the school in a somewhat vain attempt to make ends meet. The following summer Libby had announced at a sleepover in Pandora's bedroom that her mother had a boyfriend named Kevin, and within a couple of weeks he had moved into the cramped little flat and Frankie began to insist that Libby refer to him as Uncle. Libby preferred not to refer to him at all, indeed she hated this sudden new addition to her family and made no attempts to hide her feelings. Within six months Frankie had stopped working all together, relying on benefits to pay the bills instead whilst she had Kevin spent long hours sat in front of the television in the flat, smoking cigarettes, drinking and fawning over one another. As time went on the couple would argue more frequently until the tensions would rise and boil over. Kevin would leave for days, weeks, sometimes months, Libby's mother would stop going to the shops, stop cooking dinner, lying pitifully upon the sofa, swigging drinks in between sending her daughter out to buy cigarettes. Eventually Kevin would return, there would be momentary cheer and excitement before the cycle started again.
"Did you have to call the police?" Pandora wondered dully, recalling the first time she had gone to stay the night at the flat, only to be awoken in the early hours by the sound of shouting voices and smashing glass. She and Libby had hid together under the bed in Libby's room until the police had arrived. When her parents had been awoken at one o'clock in the morning to find a policeman on their doorstep, their distinctly shaken daughter in tow, Pandora had soon been informed by her parents that under no circumstances was she ever to go round to stay at Libby's ever again. The older she got the less Libby bothered phoning the police, for the last thing she wanted was for Social Services to become involved and to find herself being whisked away into foster care.
"No, not this time." Libby mused, frowning a little, only to snigger a little as she recalled: "Bastard pissed off before she could throw the wine bottle at him!"
"How did it start?"
"Probably when I said: I'm not going to call you Uncle just because you're shagging my mum. He said I was a nasty little shit and went on a rant about how I don't do what I'm told...then she started shrieking: Are you calling me a shit mother?! And that was it...bang!"
Pandora felt at a slight loss as to what to say, and felt somewhat relieved at that moment when a large highly polished BMW pulled up to the curb in front of them, the door was flung open and half a second later there came a high-pitched squeal as a voice cried:
"LIBS! PAN!"
Pandora watched as Claire Rosanna Harper launched herself out of the passenger seat, throwing the car door shut behind her before making a beeline for the two girls, shoving her way past the hordes of children heading inside the gates in an attempt to get to them.
"Brace yourself!" Libby muttered, and half a second later Claire had pounced upon them, throwing her arms around with with another excited squeal.
"Gosh!" the newest arrival gushed when she finally saw fit to release them a long moment later, pausing to wave briefly at a young boy who had also just emerged from the car. "It's like I haven't seen you in...forever!"
"I saw you last week. We had a picnic in the park." Libby pointed out as the much taller girl beamed down at her, giggling as she said:
"Well I know, but...you know!"
Libby's bemused expression suggested that no, she didn't.
"New car?" she said, nodding at the BMW as it drew away from the curb, and Claire's face went instantly pink.
"Oh it's...it's not ours, it's...you know...Mum's company car!"
Pandora very nearly sighed at her stammering.
Claire, who had arrived at Oakhurst Manor at the beginning of Year Nine, lived just outside of town in a large renovated farm house with her parents and brothers; eleven year old Julian and seventeen year old Declan. Claire's father Eugene Harper was a highly respected surgeon, whilst her mother Vanessa worked for a local firm of architects. The Harper children, in stark contrast to Libby, were highly privileged; Declan played rugby and cricket, Julian enjoyed horse riding lessons and Claire spent her weekends at dance classes. Despite their upbringing, the Harper children were not particularly interested in material possessions, and upon it ever being pointed out to Claire that her family had such things she would, especially around Libby whose mother had never owned a bicycle let alone a car, become somewhat awkward and tongue-tied.
Libby, being a surprisingly well-grounded girl despite her circumstances, was entirely unabashed by the stark differences in their lives. Some people, she said, were rich and lucky, and some people were just poor and didn't have much luck at all. But all people were heading the same way in the end; everybody was going to grow up, get old and die. It didn't matter where they started, it just mattered where they ended up.
This had been pointed out to Claire on many occasions over the years, but she never quite seemed to take enough notice, and so Pandora felt inclined to change the subject.
"Julian's first day, isn't it?" the squib said, gazing over Claire's shoulder at the boy who was stood staring through the school gates, expression rather daunted.
"Oh, yes! Yes it is...JULIAN?! Julian, come over here!"
As Julian consented to shuffling over towards them, Claire announced:
"It's Declan's first day today, too! Over at Goodwin College, I mean!"
"I thought he was going to that other place...the one in Cornwall..." Pandora recalled, feeling a sudden sense of relief when Claire said:
"Oh, no! Mum and Dad did think of that for a while, but in the end they decided it was just too far away! Declan didn't want to live away from home yet!"
"Oh right." Pandora said, trying hard to sound casual, just in time for the school bell to ring shrilly, a warning that the late bell would ring in just ten minutes time.
Declan Harper was, as far as Pandora was concerned, the most brilliant and wonderful boy ever to grace the corridors of Oakhurst Manor School. She had liked him almost as soon as she had met him, and had been somewhat in love with him ever since her sixteenth birthday, when guitar enthusiast Declan had arrived at her party with his guitar slung over his shoulder and proceeded to sing the birthday girl's praises to the party guests. Literally.
Pandora had never had anybody sing to her before, except for her mother and grandparents at bedtime as a child. Nobody had ever written a song especially for her. And it hadn't really mattered that he'd sung a special song to Libby on her birthday in the middle of the school playground, either, or that most people who were friends with Declan got a song for their birthday. For those few minutes Pandora had felt as if she were the most important girl in the world as far as Declan was concerned. She had fallen for him almost instantly.
It had been bad enough that he was leaving Oakhurst at all, let alone Eddington entirely. It wasn't as if she ever expected him to notice her in quite the way that she did him, that would be downright silly, but just as long as he was around Pandora had found school just about bearable. It was a comfort to think that she would still get to see him from time to time at the Harpers' house or in the park. Such a comfort, in fact, that Pandora was impressed that she had managed to sound as casual about Claire's news as she had done.
As the three girl turned to wander through the school gates with Julian in tow, Claire babbling instructions to her little brother as if starting school was some sort of military operation, Libby wondered:
"Do you reckon we'll have Mr. Bryer for Chemistry again this year?"
"I hope so." Pandora said as they veered sideways towards the playground where the new Year Seven students were gathering. "I think he's good."
"He's rubbish." Libby complained with a huff. "He never sets us any homework!"
"Exactly!" Pandora said, shooting her friend a raised eyebrow that made Libby tut.
"Pandora Lupin! You promised, didn't you?!" Libby exclaimed as they paused to watch Julian stride off to join his classmates, shoulders hunching a bit when Claire shouted after him:
"GO GET 'EM, JULIAN!"
"Claire for goodness sake, don't embarrass him!" Pandora scolded, only for Libby to reach to give her a firm shake by the shoulder.
"Never mind that!" the bookworm snapped. "You promised you were going to stop being so bloody lazy this year! What're your parents going to say when you...when you FAIL your GCSEs?!"
"Oh calm down, Libs!" Claire exclaimed as she turned to lead the way towards the steps leading up to the school's main entrance. "Pan isn't going to fail anything, she's not an idiot..."
"Exactly," Pandora agreed, "Just because I don't like being given homework that doesn't mean I'm being lazy! Nobody likes homework, Libby! It's not natural!"
"Libby likes homework." Claire pointed out with a snigger, and Pandora failed to suppress a sigh when Libby instantly informed the tall, dark haired girl in front of her:
"You know what I really like, Claire? Achieving something! You won't be laughing when I'm being presented with my First Class Honours Degree from Oxford University and you're sitting around on...on your dad's bloody yacht wondering what you've actually done with the past five years of your life!"
There was a long, thoughtful pause, Claire considered this scenario as they mounted the steps, before she finally pointed out:
"But my dad doesn't own a yacht, Libs!"
The sound that escaped Libby's lips was an odd mixture of a groan and a number of swear words that Pandora wasn't entirely sure she had ever heard before. It was quite a relief to get inside, where the corridors were so loud with chatter that any further discussion was futile, and before long they had made their was to their form room, just in time for the start of the register.
Pandora's first day back was mundane and ordinary. She tried to make an effort to concentrate in class and spent lunch in a secluded corner of the school library, covertly eating her lunch and hoping not to be spotted by the librarian, whilst Libby scoured the shelves for yet more books to squeeze into the confides of her school bag, and Claire babbled mindlessly about organising a trip to the cinema. By the time the final bell rang and they had joined the flood of students heading back out of the school gates they were still debating which film to see, and Claire suggested they all discuss it over a bag of chips from the chippy down the road.
"I can't." Pandora grumbled, puffing her cheeks in exasperation. "Dad's declared a ban on chips."
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Claire pointed out as they reached the gates, but Pandora shook her head.
"No...no, I should probably get home. Maybe I'll make a start on that Maths homework or something."
Claire's face contorted in incomprehension.
"It's not due until Friday, Pan." she pointed out, and Libby sighed and asked:
"What's your point?"
"Let's not start again." Pandora suggested wearily, adjusting the bag on her shoulder. "Besides, don't you need to wait for Julian?"
"Oh god, yes!" Claire exclaimed, spinning round to look searching around for her sibling. "I'd forgotten about him..."
"What sort of a big sister are you?" Libby sniggered as she retrieved a stick of gum from her pocket, and Pandora set off through the gates, calling:
"See you tomorrow, then!"
She arrived home to have her nostrils assaulted by the almost overwhelming smell of ginger that made her want to sneeze. Abandoning her schoolbag by the door and kicking off her shoes, Pandora made her way towards the source of the smell, and arrived in the kitchen to find Imogen poised over a violently smoking cauldron, expression somewhat bemused.
"Is it supposed to be like this?" the young witch asked, reaching to snatch up the open book set down upon the counter beside her, and Pandora was about to open her mouth to admit that she didn't have a clue when a voice from the dining room next door asked:
"Do what, love?"
"Engulf the entire kitchen in smoke, Nana!" Imogen said, reaching to stifle a cough into the sleeve over her jumper, and Pandora turned to see her grandmother rise from a chair at the dining table before she shuffled into the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the smell.
"Alright, Sweetheart?" the former Auror asked Pan shooting the girl a smile as she passed, and with that she went to peer into the cauldron in deliberation before calmly deciding:
"No...no, Imogen that isn't right at all."
"Oh..." Imogen sighed, only to choke a little on the smoke.
"Im?"
"Yes Nana?"
"Get out of the kitchen." Dora instructed as she continued to stare down into the cauldron, causing Imogen to ask:
"What?"
"I said get out of the kitchen. Go on, put the book down!"
"But..."
"Do it now." Dora insisted as she finally took a step backwards, and Imogen demanded to know:
"Why?"
"Because this cauldron's about to explode." her grandmother explained, tone alarmingly casual.
Pandora's mouth dropped open in shock as Imogen instantly flung the book down upon the counter and made a rush for the door. As she pushed Pandora back out into the hallway Dora appeared behind them, reaching to slam the door shut after her. For half a second there was silence, and then...
BANG!
Pandora and Imogen jumped. For a long moment the trio simply stood in silence, before Imogen finally observed:
"Mum and Dad are going to kill me."
As she reached to open the door, poking her head around it to inspect the damage, Dora assured her:
"I very much doubt it, love. It'll be me who gets chased with the flaming pitchforks. I was supposed to be helping you."
"Why weren't you?" Pandora asked, and her grandmother gave a huff.
"Well she'll never brew a decent Ginger Oil Potion if she doesn't learn to do it by herself!"
"She was too busy ranting and raving about some silly article she's seen in Witch Weekly." Imogen muttered, and as she reached to fling the door open to reveal the chaos within, Dora asked:
"What's the point of having a granddaughter offer to brew you a potion when you are under the weather if you end up brewing it yourself?!"
"Maybe you should've let Grandad brew it." Imogen mused, only for Dora to round on her with wide eyes as she demanded to know:
"D'you think I have a death wish?!"
"Maybe, since you asked me."
As she reached to draw the wand from her pocket, striding into the room that appeared to be splattered with the sticky grey remains of the potion, accompanied by a large black burn mark upon the ceiling, Dora insisted:
"You're perfectly capable, Imogen! You've made perfectly well with me last month. You just weren't paying attention!"
"Are you ill, Nana?" Pandora asked doubtfully as she and Imogen shuffled into the room, and as she paused to look up at the damage to the ceiling, Dora said:
"Oh no, love. No...nothing like that." She raised her wand to point at the scorched mark, only for Imogen to suggest:
"Why don't you let me do it, Nana? It's my mess, after all."
"Would you?" Dora said, reaching to stifle a yawn into her hand. "I'm bone-tired." She turned to walk somewhat stiffly back into the dining room, and as Pandora followed her, watching her sink down onto a chair, the retired Auror told her granddaughter:
"Take my advice, Pan Sweetheart. Don't ever get old. It's dreadful, it really is!"
"Shall I make us a cup of tea?" Pandora suggested as Imogen set about attempting to vanish the remnants of the potion from the fridge door with her wand. "Is Grandad here too?"
"No, just me. Grandad's at home fixing the front garden gate, wind's had it half off it's hinges again. I could murder a cup of tea. I've not had a decent night's sleep in Merlin knows how long..."
"Why not?" Pandora asked, retreating back into the kitchen to see to the kettle, wincing when Imogen's latest spell only served to smear the potion yet further across the wall beside her.
"Because I'm appallingly old, Sweetheart." came the somewhat dull response, and Imogen supplied:
"She's done her back in again."
"Oh..." Pan breathed, and Imogen paused in her cleaning to call:
"You should put your feet up more, Nana!"
"Don't tell her that." Pandora hissed, "You know what she's like..." But apparently it was too late.
"Put my feet up?!" came the distinctly unimpressed response.
Imogen pursed her lips against a snigger.
"Exactly! You know...get a hobby or something!"
"A hobby?"
"Yes, Nana. Like...like painting...or...or pottery!"
"Pottery?!" Dora half-spat, and both grandchildren failed to resist the urge to dissolve into giggles. "Merlin help me, the thought of it!" their grandmother muttered despairingly, and once she had set the kettle down to boil, Pandora retreated to the dining room to ask:
"Don't you like being retired, Nana?"
"Merlin, no. No, Pandora. I hate being retired."
"But why? You've got all that time to do anything you want!"
The metamorphmagus reached to run a weary hand through her snowy hair, shaking her head.
"Oh no, love. I've got plenty of time, that's true. But time to do what I want? I've no time to do that at all."
"What d'you want to do?"
"I want to work, Pandora." Dora informed the girl frankly, offering her a rather sad smile. "I'd do anything to just...work."
"Minister Shacklebolt threw a massive party for you when you retired." Imogen pointed out as if this made retirement incapable of being anything but a good thing, and Dora let out a rather bitter laugh as she agreed:
"Yes he did. And at the end of the evening I handed my Auror badge in, went home, went to bed and sobbed into your grandad's shoulder until I fell asleep. And when I woke up the following morning and realised I didn't have to be at Auror Headquarters by seven o'clock...well...I sobbed my heart out all over again!" The witch sighed heavily, before cracking a smile as she suggested: "When you find something to keep you occupied in life, girls...something you love, something you can be passionate about...stick with it as long as you can, because you won't realise how truly important it is until it's gone."
"Like Quidditch?" Imogen wondered hopefully.
Her grandmother reached to bury her face in her hands with a heavy sigh.
"No, Imogen. Not like bloody Quidditch...!" she mumbled despairingly, only for Imogen to ask:
"What's that?"
There was a long, deliberating pause before Dora straightened up, plastering a grin across her face as she said:
"Nothing, love."
"Are you being a ridiculous hypocrite again, Nana?" Imogen accused with a snigger, and Dora scowled at the fruit bowl in the middle of the table as she gave a chuckle and said:
"Don't be daft, Imogen! Of course I'm not! Where's this cup of tea, then?"