Adele Black: The End

Professor Sharp

Adele Black: The End

Professor Sharp

As soon as the Daily Prophet got a hold of the news of the Wizengamot reforms, I knew I would be subjected to a bombardment of questions from a lot of people. I got letters from random people I had no clue existed (I didn't answer those). Hermione sent me owl after owl, and I answered those ones with extreme detail.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" Ron asked one night as he, Harry and I scarfed down the pasta I made.

I shrugged. It was early March, and I had been in a state of limbo. I spent my days trying to renovate Grimmuald and thinking about the other lines of the prophecy. I would sit on the couch and stare into space as I thought about how long this could take: would it be months until I was free of the prophecy's hold on me? Would it be years? How long would it be?

"Maybe you could—" Ron was cut off by an owl flying in through the open window in the kitchen. It gave a hoot and tumbled onto the table. It had three letters with it, one addressed to each of us individually. The owl came up to me and I ran my hand over it's feathers, calming it instantly. Owls always had a soft spot for me, and I to them.

The owl nipped my fingers playfully before it flew off.

"I hope we're not in trouble or anything," Harry murmured as he picked up his letter.

I picked mine up and ran my wand over it to translate it to Ancient Greek. The envelope read:

"Miss Adele Black
12 Grimmuald Place
Islington, London, England"

I opened it up and discovered that it was an invitation.

"Miss Black,

In recognition of your excellent work on the Ministry Reforms Committee and the bravery you showed at the Battle of Hogwarts, we are honored to invite you to the 365th annual Ministry of Magic Gala.

It shall be held on the 12th of March, and will begin approximately at 7:00pm. The gala will be located in the ballroom at the Ministry of Magic, and dinner and dessert will be provided.

You are permitted to bring one guest with you.

Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Acting Minister of Magic"

Harry and Ron gave a groan. "I can't wear dress robes again! Not like the ones I wore to the Yule Ball!" Ron grumbled.

"Just wear what you wore to Bill and Fleur's wedding then. Lucky for us, the three of us have been invited and we get a plus one. As long as the three of us stick together it can't be too bad, right?" Harry commented.

I frowned. "This is so soon! It's on Saturday! How could they send out invites so late? I didn't have a plan for this!"

"Well, the Ministry's not very good at planning things," Ron remarked.

"No, I always have a plan. This wasn't part of the plan I had for the next two weeks! Athena always has a plan, so I always have a plan. I don't even have a dress! I can't go in shorts and a Camp Half Blood shirt! There's not enough time to—"

"Adele, calm down," Harry said. "It'll all work out, it always does. Besides, it's on a Saturday, so I'm sure Hermione and Ginny will come and they can help you out."

"On the day of? Have you lost your mind? That's not how it works!" I panicked.

I was about to ramble on even more about the audacity of the invitations tardiness, but at that moment the fireplace in the room over rumbled with life. A pink haired woman stormed into the kitchen, nearly tripping over the troll-legged umbrella stand that was near the kitchen entryway.