(1939-01-06) Some Wounds Never Heal
Details for Some Wounds Never Heal
Summary: Anthony and Variel are treated before students make their way back to Hogwarts.
Date: January 6, 1939
Location: St. Mungo's Hospital
Related: Holiday Horror

It is a winter night. The weather is cold and overcast.

This area of the hospital has been set up for a double purpose. At the beginning of the ward are multiple stations ment to deal with transitory cases that only need the attention of Medi-wizards or Healers for a few hours. These stations have a small adjustable bed and a rolling chair and a stand with all the necessary tools to deal with any kind of temporary damage caused by misfiring or misused spells. The back of the ward has been designed to resemble a boarding house with individual rooms for each patient. These rooms are separated from the primary ward by a set of double doors securely locked by multiple charms. Over the doors a large wooden signs reads:
"Spells Damage Ward. Long Term Care Wing."
During the night this ward is illuminated by the ever present light globes floating around the ceiling.

Anthony is lying in a bed, looking a bit pale, and in rather bold white and blue striped PJs. He's busy writing, on what is clearly paper that someone has pinched from the hospital for him.

Takeshi enters with an Ikebana in his hands, something he is known around St. Mungo's for doing. This simple arrangement of plants, shoots out in various greens, reds and yellows. Sitting it down on the table next Anthony. His hands move across his bright yellow robes for a moment as he looks at Anthony, "How are you feeling today?" he inquires, with a warm smile on his face, "Anything I can get you to make you feel a bit more comfortable?" he asks, tilting his head a bit to the right.

It was by sheer chance that Elizabeth found out that Anthony was at St. Mungo's, since they hadn't released names in the paper. But here she is, with flowers and waiting to know if she's even allowed to visit her friend. A witch dressed similarly to that of a nurse step into the doorway and blinks to see Takeshi at Anthony's bedside. "Oh! I'm sorry for interrupting. But there's a little witch out here that says she knows you? Name Dweedle. Seeing as you already have company, do you want me to send her away or allow her to visit?"

Anthony opens his mouth to reply. He says, slowly, "I'm _sure_ that I've been observed long enough, Doctor, haven't I? I mean, I _do_ have a train to catch very soon, and… well… you must be very busy with those actually physically injured." Anthony nods to the nurse, "Send her in, please. Thank you!"

There's a small, dark-haired girl that sits beside Variel's bed. Their conversation has been kept low and between themselves, but as people shift and move around the ward, her eyes find and settle on Elizabeth. There's no mistaking the narrowing of Lucretia's eyes when she spots the half-blooded witch and every line in her posture becomes that little bit more rigid. She leans a little closer to Variel and murmurs something quietly to him. "If she comes this way, do you still want me to be polite to her?"

The curtain around Variel's bed was partially drawn- Elizabeth likely wouldn't catch sight of him on the way in, were she to head for Anthony's bed. He's quiet when he hears Lucretia's question, but after a moment, nods. "Yes. I do. Everyone here has seen enough hate for a lifetime. If you draw attention to her-" But then, there's other students there as well, injured and bereaved. "… I don't think you'll need to do anything to make her feel unwelcome, Lucretia. And we're going to go see Rowle, anyway. Let it be." He stands from where he'd been perched on the edge of his bed. "There's enough people that won't."

The witch nurse leads Elizabeth past several beds, a moment or so later, and the curtain is drawn back a little further for the young woman. Cradling a pair of flower bouquets in her arms, daisies, Elizabeth blinks her pale eyes at Anthony, her friend laying in bed worse for wear. At least in her mind. Wasn't it just yesterday that they were with Andromena, talking about his distaste for the joke shop his cousin had insisted they visit together. She swallows shallowly, clear worry flickering through her expression as she takes a few precise steps to set one of the bouquets of flowers on the table by his bedside. She can't think of any words though. What can she really say that will make this situation any better?

He's looking pale, is Anthony, but not his usual 'Spends far too much time in libraries and bookshops and not enough outdoors'. Instead he's looking drawn, and rather older than his usual youthful 17. But he makes a gallant attempt at a smile, which doesn't reach his eyes, "Lizzy." At least there's no loss of pet name, "Weasley's a bed or two down that way, I think!"

"Seriously?" Lucretia looks more than a little disgruntled at whatever it is that Variel's said to her and her knuckles whiten where she clasps her hands overly tight together. "Do you even know how difficult this is for me? Next to impossible, that's how difficult." Though she herself wasn't at the party when the attack happened, she is, it would seem, completely and utterly in sympathy with the current wave of opinion against those that would perpetrate such things. And that, it would appear, would be any and everyone not of pure blood.

Why -was- she here again? Lea cuts a quiet figure, tall, aloof. Though there was just a smidge of judgment in her eyes. Better than that? Oh you poor misguided boy. Well. That would have to be discussed later, likely in private before he really set himself up to fail. "Who…are you suggesting that the charming Little Black be nice to?" They'd come, in all honesty from outside not that long ago, a delegation of reporters and a few carefully chosen words.
"Rowle. Nice to see that you are still with us. Dweedle."

There's three vague shadows on the curtains around Variel's bed, cast by the late morning's sun. One small, one lanky, and one definitively feminine. Lucretia, Variel and Lea are exposed when the curtain is pulled back by the once-resident of the bed.
The climate in the room was somber to begin with, and all it takes is a couple whispers from a few of the bedridden students to turn it frigid instead. When Variel pulls back the curtains, the chatters quiet some, perhaps in anticipation. He'd already kicked one mudblood out of the room, hadn't he? Yeah, her candy was still sitting next to his bed, untouched, the card buried beneath it all.
"I'm not saying you need to offer her tea and jam, Lulu. Just…" He gestures a little, vaguely indicating the sudden hostility in the room. "It gets worse and there's blood on the floor again. We're better than that." He waits a moment as Lea replies, then nods towards the girl at Anthony's beside. "The halfblood. I don't want the bereaved further disturbed." That said, he leads Black and Rashley, his hand lightly on the lower back of the latter, towards the Ravenclaw students, roughly as Anthony indicates his presence.
"Dweedle," Variel leads, as both answer to . "Rowle. Lost track of you in everything. Glad to see you're doing… alright." Weasley's left hand is still a mess of bandages, and his face has none of the easy laughter it usually holds.

The worry that had been in her expression fades only slightly from the sound of her nickname, the only one that's allowed to call her Lizzie, though how pale he's become… it's clearly unhealthy. It's difficult to tell if he's in any real pain, but she looks him over for another brief pause. "How are you feeling?" Elizabeth asks softly. Was he burned? Are there scorch marks still? Was Anthony one of those that had been targeted by the curse? There was so many questions in such a short moment, none of them she dares to ask. Pausing, she lowers herself into a seat beside his bed. "I'll… I'll visit him in a bit. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Elizabeth says softly, giving a weak smile. "But if there's anyone else here, I will need to go out and get more flowers I think."
From behind her wire-frames, Elizabeth blinks her pale eyes up at the approach of two familiar faces. Two fellow students and those she considers friends. Her gaze flicks to the bandages wrapped so completely over his left hand and her already light skin pales significantly, almost becoming white. Swallowing softly, her gaze pauses before she looks up at his eyes, his empty eyes. Arms tightening around the bouquet of daisies, she gathers a little bit of strength to take a step towards him, gently presenting the daisies for Variel.
Her gaze flits towards first Lucretia, then Lea. "Black… Rashley…" Elizabeth greets them both in turn, dipping her chin even with a small nod of acknowledgement. More than she's gotten from them, and more than she expects to receive. The reporters, beyond Lea, earn a glance. A full and considerable pause as she just watches them.

"Don't take the flowers," Lucretia says, eyes boring into Elizabeth before they flick upwards to Variel. "The reporters will get a picture and before you know it, it'll be all over the Daily Prophet about how you, someone whom was the victim of the crucio curse, was happily making up with a half-blood." She pauses, swallowing quickly, hands curling into fists at her sides. She sucks in her breath and looks back to Elizabeth. "No offence, Dweedle. I'm sure your intentions are genuine, but its how its going to look, you see?"

Anthony clears his throat, and puts aside the writing pad. It is, indeed, St Mungo's paper, and the letter starts, 'Dear Headmaster,'. He sighs, "I've felt better, Lizzy, but my only physical hurt was from me trying to chew my own lip off, rather than scream. Pyrrhic victory, I think, is the correct term for that." He gives a weak smile, "Aside from that, I'm fine. Nothing but a few bad dreams. I have _no_ idea why they kept me in. There are others who need it far more than I."

The only physical hurt. Lea listens, even if she doesn't reply. The twist of her lip however, that malacious curl to her bottom lip, the eyes that watch in cruel judgment. "If you are fine, Rowle, then get out of the bed," Lea touted. She had been a busy little creature herself. "You are going to have to, anyway, unless you intend on missing the train but…with Weasley going back and myself..," Lea trailed off. Imagine how it'd look if he stayed in the bed, subject to the same pains but…weaker for it. "Miss Black, do find me when we return, we'll continue with lessons, if you like. Weasley. Dweedle." A dip of her head and the tall blond started towards the door.

Anthony points out, firmly, "Miss Rashley." Ah. Not even just the surname. "_I_ am doing what my doctors have told me. I listen to expertise."

"Drama queen," Lea tossed in Anthony's direction, before the click of her heels carried her away and out the door.

Anthony runs a hand through his hair, "I _swear_…. just when I think ONE Rashley is impossible…" Which is the point the doctor finally brings his discharge letters. And Tony swings his legs out of bed. Fortunately for everyone's Sanity, Tony _does_ believe in wearing the full set of PJs. "Um, Lizzy, would you mind terribly drawing the curtains around whilst I change?" He's looking pale, and a bit grim, but quite determined. "Oh, actually, would you mind terribly nipping to get them to owl this, Black?" Lacking a stick of sealing wax, or an envelope, he just folds it up into three, and takes a candle from next to it, to seal it with candle wax, and the butt of his wand. Then he writes 'The Headmaster, Hogwart's School' on it, and offers it to the girl.

Variel shakes his head when the flowers are held out towards him, even before Lucretia speaks. "You brought those for Rowle, didn't you? I don't want his flowers." His eyes turn back to Anthony. "I'm glad to help you catch up whenever you're up and about, Rowle. Give me the word, alright? Lost track of you last night, and I'm glad you're alright." Open. Close. Open. His bandaged hand moves seemingly without his attention. He watches Anthony hand over the letter. "I'd wager I've got a decent idea what's in that, Rowle. Good man, if I'm right." He takes a step back from the pair of students when Rowle seems ready to change. "See you back at school, then," is his last word before he turns and starts after Rashley.

Donald had not been planning to spend the day at St Mungo's, there's a stack of work on his desk at the ministry and it's likely only growing in his absense. Sometimes however it pays to listen to medical advice and so here he is still having spent the day dozing, being poked and prodded by the healers, and talking with what visitors have arrived. Returning from a short walk he re-enters the ward shortly after Lea leaves. Casting a glance towards his fellow patients, or indeed ex-patients as some now seem to be, he settles himself down into the chair by his bed and retrieves the paper from where it's tucked under his arm.

Lucretia takes the letter. It might be Anthony's way of defusing the flower situation and if there is worry in her expression over whether or not Variel might accept the flowers, its laid to rest when the Weasley defuses it. Diplomatically. She nods to Anthony. "I hope you're recovered soon and I'll see you back at school." A finger presses to the warm wax of the seal and a small bite of her lip is given when Variel pitches a guess at its contents. Was that a smile? She turns on her heel, leaving to find an owl and then, presumably, the train back to Hogwarts. That she trails both Lea and Variel out perhaps speaks volumes for where she stands on the current divide between pure bloods and others.

Her expression softens at Anthony, and she gives him a look that's both sympathetic and relieved that there's just minor injury. Though Elizabeth has already noted that he could just lying about how hurt he is for her benefit. She swallows softly again and nods to him, "Do you think… you'll be able to make it to the first day back to school?" she asks even quieter than before. She already knows the answer. And bad dreams… it'll probably take awhile for them to fade completely. "I'm sure they are worried about you as much as I am." Again, Elizabeth tries to give him a weak smile.
Then Lucretia utters a quick snap at Variel. She blinks her pale eyes once while the younger girl talks. The sick feeling in her stomach only worsens. "It would look…" Elizabeth says softly. "like he won't let hate dictate his actions." Because this is what this is. Hate. She can see hatred and distrust in both Lea and Lucretia's eyes, borring straight into her. That is, until Lea excuses herself and turns on heal.
Whatever thoughts she had at that moment is interrupted as Anthony pulls her attention, her bright eyes blink with the realization that he's being discharged and needs to change. "Oh. Of course." she says quickly, wanting to be helpful as she takes a few steps back and tries to work at pulling the curtain closed with one hand, her other arm still occupied with the bouquet. Elizabeth turns her attention back towards Variel, and she blinks again when he turns to leave. Her lips part, wordless and only out of earshot does she say, "But… these were for you." She'd already given Anthony flowers, had he not noticed. She looks at the back of Lucretia when the younger girl leaves as well, trailing after Lea and Variel. Unified in their cause.
"Anthony…" Elizabeth says his name softly through the curtain. "I think I might do something rash…"

Anthony pauses, in the shadow mime of undressing, "Well, at least wait until I've got some clothes on, Lizzy!" Ahem. Clearly Tony's mind went somewhere there! Then he continues getting changed, "Look. I'm fine. But I'm… pretty reasonable at seeing things from an objective point of view. It's either an insanity on my part, or a very rare gift." A beat. "Although honesty compells me to admit, not in regard to some subjects." He's now in the pulling on clothes stage, which must be a relief to someone.

Her back towards the curtain, Elizabeth doesn't even note the shadow of his figure dressing beyond it's barrier. "Insanity is relative." she murmurs absently. "But… if I do what I'm considering on doing… I'll probably make myself a target. From everyone." Her gaze drifts to the bundle of flowers that are still in her arms. "Rash indeed. What has become of me."

Donald watches the comings and goings, well goings, with mild interest. People watching being one of the few passtimes you can really get into on a hospital ward. The comments about school mark them easily enough as students although he's not seen enough to venture to guess at houses yet. Eyeing the front page of his paper, one of the standard wizarding ones he scans the report about the attack briefly but then seems to loose interest and sets the thing down on his bed. Another glance is given towards the students but as he catches sight of shadow-Anthony dressing he turns to Elizabeth instead and offers a polite smile and a brief nod.

Anthony pulls the curtain back. He's dressed. Pretty casually, really. A school shirt, with a jumper over it. No tie. Slacks, and shoes. He's also pulling his overcoat on, and has your bunch of flowers to him in his hand, and his wand in the other. He taps one with the other (I shall leave you to deduce which way), and says, "Reducio." Then he tucks the much smaller bunch of flowers into the buttonhole of his coat, as a slightly large buttonhole flower, "Leave them, Lizzy. Some other pour soul will appreciate them, I'm sure." He glances around once more, and gestures towards Donald, "Perhaps that gentleman?". Then he looks at the headlines in the mans paper. "Sic transit gloria Mundi." (Latin for 'Here passes the glory of the world'). "I swear, it's simply begging for a Deutschesarbetierpartei to start up for us." (Here he's out of date, naturally, since the German Workers Party are nowadays known as the National Socialist German Workers Party, or Nazi's for short. But his pronunciation is very good, with just a hint of a French accent to it, as if he was from Alsace or Lorraine.).

Elizabeth gives the older man, Donald, a small nod in return, almost absently so before Anthony pulls back the curtain and emerges, dressed. "The worse part is… I don't think I can." she says softly. It'll always be there, hanging over her head like a dark cloud. Taking another small swallowing, the bespeckled girl closes her eyes if only briefly. "I'm going to talk to the reporters." They probably won't listen, but maybe.

Donald seems to recognise the latin and nods a quick agreement. The, to add to the fun, he recognises the German too and replies in that tongue, "it will be interesting to see just what happens. Any party forming to try and counter the Malfoy's Unite group will run the risk of being muddd by this whole affair. Rather shot themselves in the foot I fear, whomever it turns out to be." Elizabeth gets another quick glance as she mentions reporters, but he doesn't know enough about the contesxt of her comment to offer any advice.

Anthony starts to reply to the man, and then his eyes boomerang back to Elizabeth. He keeps speaking German, probably because that's the way the mental switches are running. "Don't be ridiculous. This is not the time for reasoned arguments. This is the time for rabble rousers to speak. Keep your head down, and when things have calmed THEN is the time for discussion like Ravens!" He then turns apologeticaly back to the man, "I had no idea I was, fortuitously, speaking your native tongue, sir. I apologise for my most imperfect grasp of it."

Exhaling a soft breath, Elizabeth still looks towards the front doors, knowing who and what lay beyond. The tongue she speaks also becomes german. "This isn't about arguments… I'm not—" The words catch in her throat as she closes her eyes, "I've never viewed us as being part of two different groups. I try so much to keep clarity, because the moment I see it as 'me' or 'us' versus 'you' and 'them', that's when I become part of the problem." Her jaw firms and something changes in her eyes as Elizabeth turns to look at Anthony. "Do you think me walking in here, worried sick to death about my friends, here of all places, to you really think that I'm keeping my head down knowing the looks and seething remarks I'll get?"

Ah, Ravenclaw, or that's how he's choosing to interpret that remark anyway. At the younger man's apologetic tone though he can only smile before switching back into English. "Not to worry dear boy, you handle it better than I did at your age," a hint perhaps that it isn't actually his native tongue without out-right adding to Anthony's embarresment. "Has Professor Flint added it to the curriculem?" he asks, once Elizabeth proves herself fluent as well, "can't say we coered it in my day, but would have been useful if we had. I mean, most european Wizards spaeak English as well as your average muggle, but they don't like to admit to it I;ve found."

Anthony says gently, in quiet English to Elizabeth, "This isn't about truth, right now. It's about a witch hunt. And if you stick your head up, it will get cut off. Be quiet. Don't talk to reporters. They'll tell the story they're paid to tell. Well, apart from my Cousin!" Ah, such touching faith. Then to the man he says, "Actually, no. No, I was taught it when I was ten, and Miss Dweedle here shares my passion for languages. And of course, many of the Great Magical Philosophers of the 18th century wrote in German. I am working on Hindi next! And I do wonder about Italian!"

Something inside of her breaks. She begins to shudder, legs weakening and threatening for her to fall to her knees on the floor. "I can't… I can't stand by and do nothing." The first tear falls, then another. "I can't bear it, being looked at like that by my schoolmates, by my friends. And it'll just get worse when we get back to school." There's a sniffle as another tear falls, uncontrollable now. "I want a voice. I deserve to at least fight for them." The breath she takes in is deep, but staggering.

If you know your latin," Donald replies, in, surprise surprise, latin, "and maybe one of French or Spanish, then Italian should be easy enough to pick up. It's not one I've learnt formally myself, but I find I can get by when in need. If you're looking for another to learn though then I would recommend Egyptian, there's a lot of very old, very intersting things out there." He falls quiet though, when it becomes clear that Elizabeth is having difficulties and tilts his head in silent question to Anthony, asking if he requires assistance.

Anthony quietly wraps his arms around the weeping girl, and bundles her against his chest, "And those who matter _know_ that you are our friend. That you stand with us. But people are stupid, or afraid, or stupid AND afraid." He shakes his head, and mouths 'Non' to the man. "And maybe this gentleman is right, Lizzy, eh? If all else fails, you and I can vanish into really old literature. Pyramids and herioglyphs? Perhaps he might be able to recommend books, Mister…..?" And the boys babble of soothing noises, with an increasingly French accent, is cut off by, of all things, lack of knowledge

Wrapped up in an embrace, Elizabeth is helpless but to fall into his arms and bury her head in his chest, tears staining his shirt and maybe his jacket. "Burying ourselves in books…" Isn't that what she's always done? "I don't see how that supposed to help." Not that she wouldn't, but her frustration to being so helpless… what else can she do? So she gently holds onto his jacket with her free hand, as if she were a child, crying. She soon frees the hand to wipe the tears away, as soon as they fall. "Egyptian…"

With the reply from Anthony being a negative, Donald gives a very slight nod of acknowledgement, then turns to pick up his paper again so as to quietly and discreetly fill the time until the lass is feeling solid again. Of course he can still hear the conversation going on, but it is politely ignored right up to the point where he is asked the direct question. Not having had time to get off the front page he simply sets the paper down again and answers in plain English, "oh I'm terribly sorry, I haven't introduced myself have I." Saying that he stands and cross the short distance between them, offering a hand when it is convenient to do so "Sykes, Donald Sykes, and yes, there really is a fascinating amount to be learnt from the Eqyptians. I only wish I had had more time to study it all."

Anthony nods, rather occupied to actually formally shake hands, being full, as they are, of sobbing witch, "Anthony Rowle, sir! Pleased to meet you!" And he starts stroking the witches back, and cooing soothing words in French. Provincial sounding French. Somewhere in the North East. Picardy, perhaps? Absolute native fluency there. «It will be alright, Lizzy, you shall see. Everyone is scared. Me included.»

The tears dry up steadily, and Elizabeth soon feels embarrassed that she even broke down to begin with. Her free hand tries to wipe away the last of her tears on her cheeks, though moisture still lingers on her lashes. Finally, she looks up at Donald, her pale gaze meeting his and his name registers recognition. His family's manor (mansion?) had burned down. "Elizabeth Dweedle." Donald may recognize her last name, since her father owns a bookshop in Diagon Alley. "If it means anything, Mister Sykes, I'm sorry for what happened." Anthony then speaks to her in fluid French, and she looks up to him, still so close. Elizabeth takes a breath and nods, glancing down. «I'm not so sure.» she replies, with fluid French as well.

Donald looks almost as if he might be about to reply to the French too, but then it becomes really rather obvious that it is not him being address and he busies himself with examining a suddenly fascinating public health poster on the wall for a moment or two. With thins a bit more settled he turns back and offers his hand to Elizabeth, "a pleasure I am sure Miss Dweedle and it means a lot to me. Fear not though, I have every confidence that my collegues in the Ministry will apprehend those responsible and that our community will be safe once more."

Anthony blinks, "I'm sorry, Mr Sykes. I'm afraid what with…" He waves a hand, "One thing and another, I'm perhaps not thinking at my best." He takes a deep breath, "What do you do at the Ministry?"

Elizabeth shuffles the bouquet of daisies that are still in her arms, so that she can reach out and take Donald's offered hand, not wanting to appear rude. "I certainly hope so, for everyone's sake. I'm sure they will find them quickly." she says this with confidence. More so than she had a moment ago.

"Quite understandable dear boy," Donald replies good naturedly, "it's not every day that one finds oneself subjected to an unforgivable curse after all." Taking his hand back once Elizabeth has finished with it he replies, "me? I work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Magical Office of Lawto be precise. Just back from a posting to Cairo as it happens, should have stayed a week or so longer but I wanted to get back for my brother's grand gala." Such is always the way of things, "do you have aspirations that way yourself? The minitry can always find uses for the multi-lingual."

Anthony admits, "Well, I'd LOVE the Mysteries, of course, but wishing isn't having, is it?" And then more seriously, "I think I could do some _good_ with my languages with the IMC. I was pondering putting in a request for an Internship for the Summer…"

Elizabeth takes a careful step, gently pulling herself from Anthony's embrace to avoid to possibility of it becoming awkward. She has to pace her breaths, but for the most part it looks as if she's calmed down, though she still has a sickening feel in the pit of her stomach. "I'm hoping to become an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries as well. I'm rather fond of runes and mysteries myself. And… I hope that I have something now that might prove that I would be valuable as an employee. If not… I'll probably publish my work. Maybe apply for IMC as well. Or work in my father's shop."

Donald gives Anthony a faintly wry smile, "everyone wants Mysteries. The allure of the unknown, the access all areas ID, it sounds so exciting does it? In truth, it's one of the most gruelling jobs in the wizzarding world and they can't even le off steam by talking about it with their friends and family. Only the toughest really ever manageto cope fully. The IMC however.." He offers the pair of them a knowing smile for a moment then turns serious again, "but don't let an old man get in the way of yur dreams. Of you think you have what it takes then do whatever you can to achieve it, we want the brightest and the best, every departent does. With perhaps the exception of Games and Sports, but then you know what they say about gym teachers." Then, to Anthony in particular, "you know that Mysteries don't take apprentices yes? You'd have to take one with another department, although that does give you the possibility of running into some of them and proving yourself to be of interest to them, which I hear can go a long way."

Anthony gives a firm nod, "Yes. Yes, I understand that." And he clears his throat, "It's not really a suitable time to talk about it…… but I mean…."

"I have an eidetic memory." Elizabeth replies lightly. It isn't all that difficult for her to master languages after all, but would it really be as fulfilling as discovering the unknown? The way that Donald puts it though… He has a point. Unspeakables can't really divulge anything to their family and friends, can't vent if there is never a need.

Donald is going to keep Anthony on the hook a moment or two longer it seems, for his initial response is for Elizabeth. "Miss Dweedle, such an ability will doubtless set you in good stead in whatever career path you choose, but consider this, you like langauages, and I suspect, from what has been said, literiture and mysteries." A small 'm' there. "Consider, even if only briefly, how a career in a department that offers foreign travel. The ability to interact with wizards from other cultures, to read their ancient texts, to see how their magic is shaped by their langauge, to be an ambassador for our great nation and reach out in the spirit of international understanding and cooperation." Then he turns back to Anthony. "you were thinking the IMC then?" he summises, "I would obviosuly have to enquire with your Headmaster as to your academic achievements and such before hand of course, since we have only just met."

Anthony nods, "Of course sir! I should expect nothing less!" He pauses, "But we should probably be heading to the train, before we miss it!"

There's a clear pause in Elizabeth, as she's never really given any other department serious consideration before. However, she does gently shake her raven head. "You misunderstand, my father would never pressure me to take up the family business. He fully supports whatever I chose for a career." She hesitates again and turns to give Anthony a small glance beside her. "I suppose… I would need to find out what electives I will need for next year." Elizabeth says softly. The reminder of the train draws out a longer breath, but she smiles as she looks back the boy. "I agree. We need to hurry. It wouldn't do to miss the train." And considering that only the train knows how to get to the school, it would be bad news indeed if they missed it.

"Goodness me, is it that time already," Donald replies with a glance towards the clock, "well you mus'n't let me keep you." Taking a half pace back to give them clear run to the door he offers a "travel safe," to the pair before turningback towards his paper once more.

Anthony clears his throat, "Do you think we can floo, Lizzy? I _really_ want to avoid the press. So, floo somewhere else, and get to Kings Cross that way?"

She blinks up at Anthony, but the small but gentle smile returns to her lips as she nods. "If you have some floo powder, we shall. I think it's a splendid idea." Elizabeth agrees. She takes another breath. "And, thank you. For consoling me." She needed it if only for a few moments. and it was comforting she still had a friend.

Anthony offers his arm to the girl, "I have some. In case I got home last night." If she takes his arm, she'll feel that rather than the normal her resting on him, it's rather the reverse.

A hand takes his offered arm, and Elizabeth does her best to support the taller boy's weight. She does a well enough job. "Alright." she murmurs. And when Anthony's ready, she more or less helps him to the train. To another new year at Hogwarts.

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