Demons of the past (Nathalie)

She was at Hogwarts. The tip of her was lit as she walked through the dark corridors. Her heart was beating quickly. Would she get back to the Room of Requirement without running into anyone? Although she was trying to walk as quietly as possible the sound of her steps was still audible. Then there was a different rhythm echoing through the corridor though. She was not alone anymore. Parvati whispered 'nox' and stood in absolute darkness, her back pressed against the wall as she hoped that whoever was out here would not notice her.

However, she was not as fortunate. The bright light of a wand was approaching and with it the Slytherin prefect. Parvati held her wand tightly but did not point it at the other girl yet. She did not want to provoke her unnecessarily. Soon enough Nathalie was standing right in front of her. The two girls looked at each other, their mutual contempt clearly visible in their faces.

As Nathalie opened her mouth to speak Parvati woke with a start. She sat up in her bed, feeling disoriented. It took her a moment to understand where she was. Checking the time, Parvati realised that it was almost time to get up. As she did not want to risk getting back to her dream, the girl got up. Being up early meant that she had more time to get ready for work, choose a nice dress,  apply make up and style her hair.

She was glad that she was an adult now, that she had left her time at Hogwarts behind. While she had enjoyed attending the magical school at first, her last year there still gave her nightmares. Fortunately the most recent dream was one of the less terrible nightmares. Nonetheless it made the girl think about her time at school again and it made her question the dream. She did not check the dream oracle as the dream did not seem very cryptic. Would she meet Nathalie again? She definitely hoped not.

However, this strange feeling that she might meet Nathalie again intensified when the tea leaves of her English Breakfast Tea indicated that she might have an unpleasant encounter. Slightly worried Parvati apparated to work where she soon found her boss who was kind enough to compliment her on her dress but then said something that was a lot less pleasant - she'd have to fill in for a colleague who was sick and interview a certain Ministry employee called Nathalie Wilkins.

Although not eager to hold the interview, Parvati did not say anything along these lines to her boss. She was a journalist now and she wanted to recommend herself for more interesting articles in the future. She would behave professionally and interview the Slytherin graduate. However, Parvati could recall more than a dozen times when she had wanted to curse Nasthalie into oblivion. In fact, they had pointed their wands at each other more than once during their time at school. Yet, this should be of no importance now.

Parvati had little time to prepare for the interview but at least she learned about Nathalie's position at the Ministry. Apparently the former Slytherin prefect worked for Public Information Service of the Ministry. To her it felt like it meant something that, out of all people, Nathalie held such a position. The Gryffindor graduate did not have a very high opinion of the government nowadays. In fact, she felt that the wrong people were in charge and wizarding Britain was similar to how Hogwarts had been a few years ago.

Apparating to a small café not too far away from the Ministry of Magic where the interview should take place, Parvati felt rather uneasy. How would it be to meet Nathalie again? Could she really be as professional as she wanted to be? Her disdain for the other witch seemed way too strong to ignore and yet the Patil was determined not to lose her countenance.

"Miss Wilkins," she addressed the Slytherin graduate as she saw her approaching. "Thank you for making the time to speak to us. My colleague who arranged the interview is unfortunately unwell today so I'm filling in. I hope that's okay with you." She offered a small smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Please, take a seat," she gestured at a table in the corner of the café. "Would you like something to drink before we start?" Polite and professional, Parvati was pleased with how she was treating her former enemy. Nobody could say that she was not trying her very best to be courteous.

@Nathalie Wilkins

Nathalie stood before the grimy stained mirror in the woman’s bathroom at the end of the Ministry’s third floor. She hoped to Merlin it was empty, because she was talking to herself.

“And therefore, the Ministry assures the Wizarding British public that it will . . .” and she paused, leave no stone unturned? “. . . leave no stone unturned in the . . . “ battle? fight? “ . . . struggle for justice and, most importantly, lead the drive towards . . . a . . . fair and just society for all of the witches and wizards that dwell within her borders.”

Her voice trailed off. It was rubbish. With a sigh she screwed up the little sliver of parchment upon which she had scrawled her points and threw it at the mirror, from which it bounced off and fell into the sink. It had been a trying few months within the corridors of the Ministry. The protests that had started on the continent had, like some kind of virus, slowly made their way to London, and quite a few of the Ministry’s staff had been all too keen to take part in the agitations. And just when things in the Ministry had been grinding to a halt; when for a moment it had looked like absolute chaos was about to break out any day; surprisingly a deal of sorts had been reached - and after this detente, day by day, the Ministry returned to a semblance of normality. However, now the fallout remained. People wanted to know how this could happen; how the Ministry could become such a hotbed of discontent - and how close British magical society had come to a complete failure of governance. Such nonsense was alright for the French; they were a revolutionary people. But in Great Britain? Well, that was simply unacceptable. It just wasn’t cricket. Thusly, the Ministry’s Public Information Services were on red alert; issuing articles and decrees and directives each and every day about how, as a matter of fact, all the stories had been blown out of all proportion, and everything was really now okay, thanks for asking. Of course, Nathalie knew it was all an elaborate lie; something to make the people think that those who worked in the Ministry actually knew what the hell they were doing, when the opposite was in fact clearly the truth to anyone with half a brain.

And now it was her turn to be fed to the wolves - in this case, Witch Weekly magazine. This was, on the face of it, not the worst assignment that she could possibly have been given. Her boss, Francesca Vardy, had two weeks previously given an interview with the Daily Prophet on a similar topic where she had been referred to as both the Ministry’s “Propagandist-in-chief” and its “professional liar”, which, naturally, caused the aforementioned Miss Vardy to explode with rage and threaten the paper with legal action. Witch Weekly, on the other hand, was not known for having hot-shot political journalists with aggressive truth-seeking agendas within its ranks, and hence Nathalie assumed that they probably required nothing more than a few soothing sentences so that its readers could continue doing whatever it was they did (which Nathalie assumed was mostly knitting) in the tranquil contentment of eternal trust in their government.

She was late, and so tidied her self up as best she could, all the time chatting to herself potential answers to theoretical questions, whilst she brushed her hair and applied lipstick. She wore a short-sleeved navy business dress, and kept her hair down, in the off-chance that she’d have to deal with a man and therefore could spend the whole afternoon flicking it about herself, smiling at him vacuously - anything to make him not ask her awkward questions.

—————

It was one of those nondescript modern cafe’s that Ministry-folk would frequently congregate in before, during, and after their allotted work hours, and thus to Nathalie it was largely home-turf, which was an added bonus. At least she would feel comfortable during this grilling. A few calming sentences, lots of confidence, keep saying assure, affirm, guarantee. Everything was good. The future was bright. All problems had been solved, are being solved, will continue to be solved. All parties were now hugging and dancing and there was so much bloody love flowing through the corridors of the Ministry that they’d probably all choke on it.

And therefore, when she turned away from the door and her eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior of the cafe, and the figure of Parvati Patil was standing there, talking to her, in fact claiming that she herself would be the journalist; well the blonde stopped sharply in her tracks. It was Patil, in the flesh, certainly; but she was different - older, more adult, looking stunning in her dress, soaked in confidence. A professional. No longer a student violating curfew. No longer a subversive.

Their eyes met. Nathalie swallowed hard.

Just play the part. Professional.

“Yes . . . thanks . . . thank you . . .” she mumbled, taking her assigned seat. Her grey orbs never left the woman opposite her, wide as saucers. The rest of the cafe, bustling and noisy with its afternoon clientele, simply vanished into nothingness. It became irrelevant. It was just the two of them. Nathalie felt her mouth dry. She may have ordered a coffee, she couldn't be sure. She surely needed something stronger.

She racked her brain, searching for all the incidents; all locked away safely before now, and not meant for reappraisal. Not like this, not in a cafe in the middle of bloody London. The girl had such arrogance, and Nathalie had wanted nothing more than to rip it from her; to teach her servility. And the blonde had loved the chase, with Parvati the righteous rebel. She had felt just in her actions; she had felt vengeance and truth and when she had the chance to pin Parvati against the wall of the dungeon and press her wand against her cheek and laugh in her face, it had felt right. It was natural for Parvati to fight back, and natural for Nathalie to put her back in her place. It was thrilling; at least for those few halcyon months. Before the end, and then the arrival of the shame with which they were supposed to self-immolate, now and forever more.

And so they sat together; two former foes across a small table in a quaint little cafe in central London. Nathalie cleared her throat.

“So . . . I suppose you’ll be wanting to ask about the Ministry?” she asked hopefully. Right now, discussing the ongoing troubles at the Ministry was the very least of her worries.

As Nathalie approached her, Parvati took the time to look at the other witch properly. The Slytherin had been among the nastiest of all students she had met during her time at school, a tough, heartless and ignorant bitch who had no idea of right or wrong. Now the young woman that approached her did not quite look like that. She was a pathetic excuse for a Ministry employee, Parvati thought. A pale blonde with no striking features as far as the Gryffindor graduate could tell. When she also realised that Nathalie, too, was nervous it made Parvati feel even superior. If the Slytherin was scared of the interview, of her, that had to mean something. Just what it exactly meant was unclear.

Of course, Nathalie probably didn't like to be reminded of her past. Parvati thought that the other witch could hardly feel good about it, or could she? Maybe she felt at least a little guilty nowadays? The Gryffindor graduate looked at the other witch curiously, trying to read her. However, she could not do that and she did not honestly believe that Nathalie ever regretted anything. So maybe she was scared of interviews per se? This one in particular? Maybe the Ministry had something to hide? Oh it would be so great if she, Parvati Patil, would reveal some Ministry secrets in the next issue of Witch Weekly. Her reputation as a journalist would rise to new levels for sure.

The interaction seemed to be strange for both though. Parvati could not deny that. The two young women had changed. Even without having spent more than a minute together, Parvati could tell that things were different now. Yet, the Patil felt certain that they definitely wouldn't be friends in the future. The mutual dislike remained but it was still as though they were meeting in a different world. Not being students at Hogwarts anymore had definitely remodeled the situation. The people surrounding them in the café meant nothing for their exchange. Back at Hogwarts they had both been a part of opposing groups in a conflict situation. Things were clearly different now. They were adults now, professionals in their job. Yet, even though Parvati reminded herself of the fact that she wanted to demonstrate just how grown up she was by now the animosity was still there.

It felt like having a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other. The angel told her to forget about the past, be mature and professional, give Nathalie a chance to prove herself to be better than expected. It asked her to only pose fair questions. Well, the angel was all for a professional and polite approach. The devil though told Parvati to use each and every opportunity to repay the former Slytherin for all she had done, make her sweat in the interview and ask the meanest of questions. It didn't see it as a professional encounter, the little devil saw this interview as a competition which one of the witches would have to lose.

Parvati had a hard time deciding who she wanted to listen to. She took her time, gracefully sat down on her chair, a slight, barely noticeable smile on her lips. She was smooth, she was smart, she would win this.

"Two cups of coffee, please," Parvati ordered before turning to Nathalie again who had just cleared her throat.

Her question was, well, stupid. Why else should Parvati want to interview Nathalie, an employee at the Ministry’s Public Information Services? She most definitely was not here to chat about how Nathalie felt these days, was not here to gossip about sweet guys. No, it was all much simpler than that. She wanted to get enough information to write an interesting article and during this interview she wanted to make Nathalie feel as small and insignificant as possible.

"Yes, you are quite right." Parvati said coolly though still with a slight smile. She almost wanted to congratulate Nathalie on her cleverness but refrained - the little angel told her to hold her tongue.

While the journalist could have done some small talk and could have asked some easy questions to lighten the situation she did not want to do that - that was the doing of the little devil, of course.

"Rumour has it that the Ministry is about to fall once again. It is said that the outward appearance has little to do with the ongoings within. We all know that there have been agitations. The people at the Ministry do not seem to work together anymore. Our readers worry that the British Ministry won't recover from the recent turmoils. How do you intend to soothe the public in such a situation? We owe our readers an honest evaluation. Shall we advice them to leave the country in order to run away before the system collapses?" Maybe she was exaggerating a little. Maybe she did not have the best questions prepared as those were still pretty general but she could always pick up something from a reply Nathalie gave and twist it in a way that made the Ministry look like a madhouse.

Nathalie’s eyes widened a little upon hearing Parvati’s mammoth question. This certainly was not what she had been expecting from Witch Weekly - rather, she had hoped for some silly light-hearted reference to the Ministry, before they could get down to the nitty-gritty of topics such as knitting little woollen shoes for cats, or whatever else passed for journalism from that esteemed publication. As an opening gambit from the former Gryffindor, it was quite the haymaker. Parvati was setting her stall out early.

“No, don’t say . . . okay, yes, well . . . ” she began, her uncertainty and discomfort bleeding through her voice. “Um . . . that’s an interesting point you have raised, certainly . . . ” The blonde shifted in her seat, and was so close to the edge of her chair that she nearly fell off it.

Her shock at her unforeseen interviewer was swiftly subsiding, and it was quickly being replaced by irritation. She was beginning to feel it was all a set-up. Surely Parvati would have known who she would have to meet for this stupid interview; she would have been told. Therefore there was no doubt that the former Gryffindor had enthusiastically agreed to take part simply to have a go at Nathalie; to make her squirm and feel uncomfortable; anything to get back at her for their little frequent run-ins at Hogwarts. Of course, the couple had a little unfinished business. But who hadn’t at that school? Who hadn’t been pushed around, or even been the pusher, for that matter? And what Nathalie feared now was that the Gryffindor would make a big deal out of it; childish revenge after these years. She could tell already; the cold abstraction in Parvati's voice, she near-aggressive way she was seated. This was going to be an ordeal for the former Slytherin.

Parvati was not exactly different, but rather she appeared fully actualised; developed to her potential; grown into her skin. She always had been beautiful, but now she was especially so; and to Nathalie’s upmost annoyance she was exquisitely presented, dressed as though she was about to be photographed rather than to simply interview a low-level Ministry employee. Of course, thought Nathalie, this was all part of her plan; a multi-faceted approach to gain the upper hand. To grind her face into it. To blind her with her success and her beauty.

She briefly considered walking out. Telling Parvati to shove her interview, and perhaps emptying a cup of coffee over her, which, whilst certainly making something of a very public statement regarding Nathalie’s opinion on her inquisitor, probably would not go down very well amongst her superiors back at the Ministry who were expecting something more akin to a damage limitation exercise rather than an assault with a hot beverage. Nathalie was stuck with Parvati and her gorgeous dress and her disdain. Wonderful.

Of course, they had barely talked. It could be possible that Parvati had left it all behind; those uncomfortable meetings; all the bared teeth and the spite-fuelled altercations. She was, technically, now an astute member of Wizarding society, with a public-facing job and all the sensibility that came along with it. Perhaps she looked back on that year in Hogwarts with embarrassment; Parvati had been guilty of frequently breaking the rules, after all. And Nathalie had only been enforcing them. If Parvati was one of those histrionic sorts who took all those youthful disagreements to heart; well, that was hardly Nathalie’s problem.

“To address your points . . . ” she met Parvati’s fierce gaze and momentarily looked away; her mind a foggy mess of random half-sentences that she couldn’t link correctly.

She took a deep breath. “Yes, to . . . address your points, Parvati, which you so succinctly made . . . your readers should most certainly not leave the country, because that would be absurd. As the Ministry continually asserts, and has done  . . . for the past six months . . . since these whole ridiculous rumours started, actually . . . there are no systemic issues at the British Ministry of Magic. Problems on the continent have not crossed the channel. The Ministry continues to function as normal, with the needs and best intentions of the Wizarding population of the country firmly at the forefront of all activities.”

Content with the solidity of her statement, Nathalie sat back in her chair. She had returned Parvati’s overwrought first serve. She was braced for her followup.

Her question had not been worthy of a star journalist but at least it had the desired effect. Nathalie was clearly uncomfortable. She stuttered and tried to wind her way out of answering the question or so it seemed. The start of her reply was evasive for sure. Parvati looked directly into the other girl's eyes, keeping the small smile like a treasured accessory.

It didn't go unnoticed that Nathalie shifted on her seat, another sign that indicated just how uneasy the Slytherin graduate was. Oh, she would not ease her discomfort. Parvati liked to be in charge this time. How many times had Nathalie made her suffer? Now it was finally her time to torment her tantaliser and she would not offer any mercy. Revenge could be so sweet…

Nonetheless Parvati did not intend to look like she was out for revenge. She intended to be polite, her main ambition was solely to do her job and, well, make Nathalie and the Ministry look like betrayers. Then again that was nothing but the truth, wasn't it?

Parvati's smile widened as the waiter brought their coffee. “Thank you,” she cooed, batting her eyelashes.

“They have excellent coffee here, don't you think?” She looked at Nathalie, expecting her confirmation as the waiter was still within earshot.

It felt reassuring and yet aggravating that Nathalie didn't manage to meet her gaze. One benefit was though that Parvati could now look straight at her opponent without feeling the need to lower her gaze.

Empty phrases. A whole lot of them and presented in the manner of an intimidated schoolgirl that had not done her homework properly and was just making something up were the response that Nathalie offered. Parvati who had picked up her quick quotes quill once Nathalie had started to speak, put it down again and raised her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“That's all you have to offer?” She asked astonishment clearly audible in her voice. “I cannot possibly offer this to our readers. You will understand that people who are really worried, who fear for their future won't be content with some phrases that have so little content.” She offered a hint of a small smile before continuing.

“With all due respect, Miss Wilkins,” Nathalie had called her Parvati before but they were not in school anymore and they definitely weren't friends. They were here for a formal interview. Parvati would not let the other girl pretend that this was any different. “If you cannot give me more information as to what has been done to stabilise the Ministry and, ultimately, the whole country, I cannot really write anything to calm our readership.”

She paused for a brief moment, took a quick sip from her coffee and smiled at Nathalie again, her smile still not reaching her eyes. “Or can't you say more because you're simply not well enough informed about what's going on? Does the Ministry send you to such interviews because they really do not want to spill the beans about what's really happening? In that case you have my sincerest sympathy. You're sent here like a lamb to the slaughter...”

She scribbled a few notes down and then looked at Nathalie again. “So as I see it we have two options – either you give me more to work with or I'll write an article about how the Ministry does not take our readers seriously and how they send a girl who's barely out of school to interviews to offer empty phrases that they would like to see printed although they do not reflect the truth. You choice.”

Having said that, Parvati took her cup of coffee and drank a few sips. “Mhhh this is really good. You should drink yours before it's cold.”

@Gavin I'm really sorry for the delay.