I awoke to the sound of keys jingling and the front door opening. Blinking, I sat up, remembering with a jolt the events of the afternoon. I consulted my watch. It was four thirty. I realised I had fallen asleep, and no surprise, since I had only had about four hours last night. Standing up, I hurried out of my bedroom and into the living room, where mother was unburdening herself of her bag, hat, and gloves.
"Hello Olivia," she said absently, walking into the kitchen. I followed her, twisting my fingers together nervously. How was I to explain what had happened? As I busied myself in my anxious thoughts, mother washed her hands at the sink, pulled out a can of baked beans, and tipped them into a small pot to heat up. I sank into a chair by the table, and realised the Daily Prophet of the 22nd of May was still out. Snatching it up, I hid it on my lap before mother noticed. Fortunately, she didn't, but turned and said instead, "You're being unusually quiet. A hard day?"
I nodded truthfully. This satisfied mother and she turned back to the oven. "I had a difficult one," she said. "This old wizard came into the hospital with a nail-clipper hanging from his ear." Mother worked at St. Mungo's Hospital For Magical Maladies and Injuries, and witnessed many peculiar magical conditions a day. "A Sticking Charm, you know," she continued, "but very hard to remove. Must have been increased in - you okay?"
I hastily switched my miserable expression to a falsely casual one. "Yes," I said quickly. "I - um - just had a late night is all. Stayed up till four."
I immediately wished I hadn't said this, though, as mother then asked, "Oh, of course, how did the meeting go?"
"It - er -" I had no idea what to say, until I just resignedly decided to be honest. "Well, it - it didn't go that well at all, actually."
Mother's expression was sympathetic. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear," she said. "So the Thunderbird will be disposed of, then."
"Yes!" I said. "And mother - mother, the minister, he - he -" I swallowed. "He kicked me out of the Ministry!" And then I felt the tears burning in my eyes. Mother gaped.
"B-But -" she began. "Oh, Olivia! I told you you shouldn't go protesting about that Thunderbird's sentence, it was unwise - I just - it's so -" she swallowed, walked over and sank into a chair opposite me. "Olivia, it isn't - isn't permanent, is it?"
"I don't know, mother," I said, wiping away the tear trickling down my cheek. "But - but what if it is? My - my career. Gone." The last word was uttered in a whisper. Mother seemed even more upset than me, though in a different way. She just seemed struck with a weary sort of disbelief.
"Oh, Olivia," she said again, heaving a sigh and kneading her forehead with her knuckles. "It's just so - so -"
"Unfair," I finished. I had stopped crying. I now felt indignant.
"That wasn't exactly the word I was looking for..." Mother's voice trailed off. "Oh, what will your father say?" She said. "He had such high ambitions for you, and I must say, I did too - one daughter, one to hope for." She swallowed. "I don't mean to blame you or anything, Olivia, but it is a disappointment."
I accepted this with a sigh.
"I know," I said glumly. "I'm a failure."
"Oh, don't put it like that!" Mother said, leaning across the table to pat my shoulder. "It's just - well, no career in the Ministry..."
I knew she was disappointed, but trying to hide it. I blinked furiously to prevent any more tears falling and stood up. "It doesn't matter," I said. "I don't want to work under that stupid Minister anyway."
"Olivia!" Mother gasped. "You shouldn't -"
"It's the truth," I replied fiercely. "But don't think because I'm not in the Ministry anymore I'm going to give up on the Thunderbird. It's an innocent creature, and -"
"No, Olivia," Mother protested. "That will just anger the Minister even -"
"I don't care," I said, striding out of the kitchen. Mother followed, uttering numerous objections as she did so. I burst into my bedroom and snatched up quill and parchment. Sitting down at my desk, I began to write furiously, blotting ink all over the page.
"Olivia, what are you doing?" Mother said impatiently. "It would be foolish to continue hazarding the Minister about that Thunderbird case. They've decided to dispose of it, and you should respect their decision."
My quill froze, poised after a scribbled sentence. I stared up at her. "Respect?" I asked incredulously. "Respect? Respect their stupid, heartless decisions? How can you even think that?"
"Olivia, you don't understand," Mother said, sighing impatiently.
"I understand perfectly, thank you very much!" I snapped. "And if you wouldn't mind, please leave my room, I'm busy."
Mother opened her mouth as if she were going to say something before clamping it shut again and striding out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. I bit my lip and turned back to my parchment.
Soon I leaned back and scrutinised what I had written. I hoped and hoped that the Daily Prophet would accept it - I would only be able to afford it as a side article, but hopefully people would notice it.



Yes, it might work.
Hopefully.