Genevieve had vaguely considered ignoring the correspondence altogether; the piece of parchment with the all too familiar seal of the Witches Institute sitting on the table for several days before she even cared to look at it. She had assumed it was a letter reminding her in some decorous way that it was time for the family to donate to the cause, it had been a tradition she had kept to as a Grosvenor and now as a married woman, it would probably be expected that her donation reflect her status and her recent increase in wealth.
Genevieve was no stranger to these sorts of things and often enjoyed doing it just for the sake of bragging at afternoon tea among her contemporaries, excited by the idea of seeing her name on a gold plate somewhere reflecting her generosity, and in turn, what she believed to be her natural superiority over others. However, she had not anticipated a networking event and though she might have otherwise declined, the idea of enjoying an afternoon of fabricated social pleasantries sounded much more appealing than
She had been asked to fill out a questionnaire outlining the sort of person she would be interested in mentoring for the afternoon.
Anyone would be lucky to have me as their mentor but I suppose, it’d be blasphemy not to request a Slytherin student, preferably someone that will use the time wisely and not waste it discussing frivolous dreams she had written, in the typical cream orange ink she used for correspondence, her words a neat cursive that she had been practicing for years.
Genevieve could only hope that this society that she was to work with would take a moment to remind themselves of who she was and what her family stood for, if they did, she figured she would receive a student that she could actually do something for instead of a lost cause. Of course, the witch was not above telling a younger person that they were a complete waste of time. Genevieve was nothing if not
always painfully honest, a quality that certainly didn’t make her any friends but also didn’t make her any uncomfortable friendships.
A few days later, Genevieve received her assignment but little information other than a name, a current house, age, and a few interests. The witch arrived a little past noon, making her way to the information table before being escorted to her seat, a table among what seemed like a hundred others buzzing with conversation. Her eyes went from one young face to another, trying to figure out who might be the girl she had been assigned and if this entire event would be a good use of her free time or if she might have been better off at home staring off into space and yelling at the staff. Just as she thought she might be more patient if she had a drink she spotted a young girl being led to her table.
The two were quickly introduced and Genevieve invited her to sit down. “Hazel, is it?†she smiled politely at the young girl, “I’ve been informed you might have some questions about your future endeavors, I assure you I am probably one of the most connected witches in this place so please do ask whatever you’d like,†she said kindly, leaning forward as she did, “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself first, I can only assume that you’ve done your research and know exactly who I am?†she raised an eyebrow expectantly, giving the waiter a glare when he
finally thought to set down some water and a menu. “Might be a good start to talk about what you’d like to eat, are you hungry?â€
@Hazel So 
