Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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August 14th, 1979
The lift at the Ministry of Magic rattled faintly as it descended, its brass grille humming under flickering golden light. Avery stood still in the corner, one gloved hand gripping the strap of her leather satchel, the other buried in the pocket of her coat. Her hair was tied back into a ponytail, neat but not stiff. Her wand was tucked safely into a sheath against her wrist—out of sight, but ready. Her nerves prickled—not violently, but in a slow, creeping way, like cold water seeping into boots.
The owl-delivered parchment had arrived five days ago, sealed with the Ministry crest and the familiar curling script of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She'd stared at it for ten full minutes before breaking the wax.
The lift gave a soft ding, and the grille slid open to reveal the polished, echoing corridor of Level Two. She stepped out onto Level Two—her boots tapping lightly on polished stone, her shoulders squared beneath a tailored black coat. The corridor smelled faintly of aged parchment, sharp ink, and stronger tea—comforting, in a strange way.
Dark wood panels framed the long hallway ahead, each adorned with deep green Ministry banners stitched with golden thread. She passed witches and wizards in deep conversation, filing paperwork, or heading toward other examination rooms with tight expressions.
And then, as she paused before the Auror Office entrance, the memory came, of the moment she'd opened her N.E.W.T.s results just a month ago; it had been an unusually warm morning at Greengrass Manor. The breakfast table was set with fresh fruit and still-warm croissants, though Avery had barely touched hers. Her eyes had been locked on the owl circling above the orchard for the past ten minutes.
When it finally swooped in through the open windows, it landed with a clatter of claws on the wood, shaking off dew and presenting the parchment with a certain pomp. She hadn't moved at first.
Violet had leaned over and whispered, "Open it. You know you're going to have to breathe eventually."
Avery had torn the envelope open with slightly trembling fingers, then stared.
