Unfortunate Events

Event One: The Bad Beginning

"As the graph indicates, the population of the Indian Ocean's ramora fish has declined sharply over the past ten years. Using our repopulation methods for the shrake as a model, we expect to increase the number of remora by sixty percent over the next decade. Now this next chart shows..."

Tick. Tock. Tick.

Hermione had never considered herself a very musical person, but the incessant noise of the cuckoo clock was inspiring. The rhythm of time's passage quickly retrieved her dominating thought, adapting it to its simple beat.

You're. Late. You're. Late.

And. Bored.

If one was to believe the tiny chirps of the golden snidget that had popped out a few minutes ago from the clock, it was after seven o'clock. But knowing it was after seven and actually having the precise time were two different things. Given Hermione's exacting and obsessive nature, her current state was less than satisfactory. Unfortunately, she could not see the time. The clock was on the wall behind her.

But telling time was the least of her problems. Ever since she had joined the Ministry a few weeks back, her life had been nothing but stress, anxiety, and deadlines. And as of seven o'clock, time had run out on one of her most important assignments.

It was Hermione's turn to watch Teddy Tonks for the weekend, while his grandmother (and sole care-giver) Andromeda was out of town. The holiday coincided with the third anniversary of her husband's death and had been planned months in advance. Hermione had not counted on the mandatory meeting on the mating habits of magical salt-water fish, which had been announced last week. Nor had Hermione anticipated that Andromeda would be unable to find a baby-sitter to cover for that first night.

Because Andromeda had not found another sitter, the older woman was waiting for her to arrive. Given the circumstances surrounding this particular holiday, Hermione felt more guilty with each passing second. As she felt the time slipping away, Hermione sank lower and lower in her seat.

Try as she might, Hermione could not stay focused on the presentation. The boring subject matter partnered with the unusually large pimple growing between the eyebrows of the presenter made this usually easy task seem like a Herculean labor. And she was no Hercules.

Dropping her chin into her hand, she nearly groaned at the bump she felt forming on her skin. Really?! She was almost twenty years old. Youngest person in her department. Defender of the Wizarding Realm. Brightest Witch of the Modern Age. Surely that earned her a reprieve from pimples.

She traced her fingers over her skin once more, hoping she was only imagining the painful bump. Nope. She was definitely not Hercules. Demigods never had pimples.

"Any questions?"

Hermione glanced around the table, silently daring anyone to prolong the meeting. When no one raised their hands, she gathered her papers as quickly as possible and bolted from the room. The meeting had been on the seventh floor; her office was on the fourth. And the elevator was broken.

Navigating the nearly empty hallways and stairwells of the Ministry of Magic, she burst into her office, legs slightly burning and lungs gasping for air.

Opening her briefcase, she threw in her stack of papers and slammed the lid shut. She took off from her office, once again running, though this time to the nearest apparition point. Unfortunately this was located outside the building on the ground floor. And the elevators were still broken. Just as Hermione reached her goal, it occurred to her that she could have just flooed to Andromeda's. Too late now.

Finally at a place where she could apparate, she focused on the location just outside the gate to Andromeda's home.

Less than a second later, she was there.