Plot Twist [GEORGE WEASLEY]

39.

Her friends wished her best before she had to go for her meeting with Professor Flitwick. A week back she had approached him and asked him for a career counseling session. He was confused but agreed to meet her

She could not help feeling embarrassed. These sessions happened before OWLs. Was she not supposed to be sure of her career then, itself? With confidence, she had told him she was pursuing to be a Cursebreaker. It paid well. Her grades had been perfect. At the time, it seemed the obvious choice.

After being bombarded with homework and thinking she was not good enough to be a Cursebreaker, she realized something. Do I even want to be a Cursebreaker? She was fifteen when she thought it was the perfect job for her. Now, she was pushing seventeen. Her views had changed.

She did not want to be stuck in a stuffy bank with goblins who resented wizards. It was not her fault they had been treated back then. People with her skin were not welcome either. She needed a better path.

A path which was hers and made her happy.

Not only just paid her bills.

The evening arrived, turning the sky indigo. Her shoes scuffed as she made her way to Flitwick's office. This is weird, she thought. What if she was making a tremendous mistake which would torment her for the rest of her life. Maybe, she was better off a curse breaker.

She ceased in front of a wooden door. A plaque outside read 'Head of Ravenclaw, Professor Flitwick'. The metal letters gleamed except for the grease spot on the H. She glanced side to side. No witnesses. Anxious, she reached out to wipe it with her sleeve.

Before she could, the door opened. Her hand retracted to her side. Professor Flitwick's head popped out. He beckoned her in. Her palms sweat as he told her he had heard someone stop in front of his office.

"...I also thought someone was going to put some Quick-Dry-Sticky-Glue under my door so I couldn't get out. That happened to me once. Those twins...Mr. Fred and Mr. George Weasley...friends of yours, right?" he rambled, fishing for something in his desk's drawers. His head was under the desk

At being addressed, she jolted back into reality. "Uh," she pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Yes. We are friends. I apologize for them."

Wagging a finger, he got up to his tall chair. He was at her eye-level, now. "It was quite excellent. I didn't want to take away house points but Professor McGonagall. They are very entertaining, your friends," he spread out a batch of colourful brochures.

"Yes," she smiled, taken aback by Flitwick's appraisal. "They are."

They quickly fell into the counselling session. Flitwick asked her about her predicted grades. Since she had been keeping up with her homework now, she had almost all Outstandings. Flitwick's mustache perked at this.

"Last year, you said you wanted to be a Cursebreaker. Am I correct?" he inquired.

Amara nodded.

"Then, why are you changing your mind?"

It was difficult to describe her exact feelings. They came out in a mess of stutters. She revealed her fears for her future and concerns that curse breaking may be the wrong path for her.

He understood, thankfully.

"Then, what other career would you like to take? Any particular field you may be interested in? You have impeccable grades in everything...but Potions," he frowned. "Apart from that, you can choose anything you would like."

Hands fidgeting with the hem of her cloak, she hesitated. "I don't know."

Brow furrowed, Flitwick tensed at her answer. He interlocked his fingers. "I see."