mirrorball

chapter nine

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Ah, Mafalda!" said Umbridge, looking at Hermione. "Travers sent you, did he?" 

"Y—yes," squeaked Hermione. "Good, you'll do perfectly well." Umbridge spoke to the wizard in black and gold. "That's that problem solved, Minister, if Mafalda can be spared for record-keeping we shall be able to start straightaway." She consulted her clipboard. "Ten people today and one of them the wife of a Ministry employee! Tut, tut . . . even here, in the heart of the Ministry!" She stepped into the lift beside Hermione, as did the two wizards who had been listening to Umbridge's conversation with the Minister. Clara's father stood in front of her, his hair slicked back and his body rigid and cold. "We'll go straight down, Mafalda, and you'll find everything you need in the courtroom." Umbridge spared a glance towards Harry and nodded politely, "Good morning, Albert, aren't you getting out?" 

"Yes, of course," said Harry in Runcorn's deep voice. Harry stepped out of the lift. He glanced at Clara quickly before the golden grilles clanged shut. Clara hoped the lift would break and she could plummet to her death. That would be a much better situation than... 

"Oh, and Sandra?"

"Hmm?" hummed Clara, her daydream being interrupted by Umbridge's high pitched voice. 

"You'll be shadowing Mr. Dupont today. He'll teach you the ins and outs. If you have any questions please do ask him. It is his job to answer them."

"Right," said Clara, barely forcing her voice above a murmur. Clara's father turned around and extended his hand. 

"Don't worry, today's cases are fairly basic. I doubt you'll find anything complicated."

Clara shook her father, Mr. Dupont's hand. "Thank you, sir."

Fifteen minutes later Clara was seated next to her father in a courtroom. His hand moved fast as he scrolled personal notes on each case that was presented. There had been two already so far, and the third seemed about ready to come to a close. 

Clara stared uncomfortably at her father. He was so focused, so calm - when had this man turned into her greatest fear? Mr. Dupont's eyes flickered over at Clara, or Sandra, and he scrunched his eyes slightly. "Did you have a question for me?"

"Oh," said Clara, forcing her gaze downwards at her hands, "Sorry, just got lost in thought. These cases are moving erm- quite fast, aren't they?"

"They always do with Umbridge," replied Louis, "She's a very persistent judge."

Clara hummed in response. Silence fell upon the two as the defendant launched into a lengthy explanation. "So, is this what you do everyday?"

Louis turned to her with a confused face. "Well, yes. It is my job. And soon, when your training commences, it will be yours too."

"Right, right... So what do you do when you're not at work?" There was a loud  "That's quite enough!" from Umbridge as the defendant seemed to upset her. Louis stammered and put his pen down, seemingly trying to form an answer. "Sorry, that's personal."

"No, it's alright. Well, in the few hours a day that I'm not in the Ministry I usually sleep to be honest. This job is a lot and it requires a lot of hours on site. So, I guess I just do whatever I can to relax when I'm not here."

"Hmm, no family then?" asked Clara, trying and failing to not let her voice falter.

"No, not anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Clara in the most nonchalant voice she could manage, "Do you mind... Would it be rude of me to ask what happened?"

Louis chuckled. "It might, but I don't mind answering. My wife was murdered a long time ago. So long ago in fact, that it almost seems like a bad dream now. Like something I simply imagined."