Who: Alice Trimble & Frank Longbottom What: Auror Orientation When: 1 September, 1975; Early Morning Where: Ministry of Magic; Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Auror Office Warnings: TBD; Likely Low Status: Threaded; Complete
There was hardly anything Alice Trimble could not accomplish when she put her perfectly groomed head to it. Learning a new spell? Pie. Writing the winning essay on Goblin Wars and how its effects on the Wizarding community still play a role in today's society? Done in an hour. It came easy to her, getting what she wanted, mostly because it was easy for her to find the motivation and discipline to simply figuratively sit down and just get the work done. Applying to and being accepted into Auror training was not an exception, though it did mean far more to her than any essay or new spell. Accomplishing this was the beginning of a new life for Alice, a life she would have been terrified to try and lead before. It was funny what traumatic events in one's life could push one into doing.
So, here Alice was, sitting in a stiff-backed chair in the front of the Auror office, reading to begin her orientation into the program. Her father had been torn between being proud of her pursuance in defense against the dark arts and being undeniably upset that she was choosing a career over the potential marriage he and her mother had set up for her. She was torn between being excited for the challenge and ultimate reward of self-forgiveness and wondering if perhaps she had finally signed herself up for something that was terribly over her head. Either way, she was ready to face whatever lay ahead head on.
First, though, she had to tackle a stack of parchment the secretary of the office had handed her upon arrival. She sifted through her bag and found first one inkwell and a quill. The ink was capped with blue and she immediately set it to the side and sifted through her bag again. Frowning when she withdrew empty-handed, she set the parchment and quill to the side, as well and approached the secretary. "Excuse me, ma'am, might you have a black inkwell I might borrow?"
The witch looked up at Alice, casting a single glance between her and the blue inkwell. "Don't you have ink right there?" Alice followed the woman's look and hesitated before smiling politely and replying, "Yes, I do. However, it is blue, as you can see. Blue is meant for casual writing: jotting down notes, penning informal correspondences. For filling out the required parchments, however, I need black, which seems to be missing from my supplies."
The witch at the desk looked at Alice curiously, and quickly gave Alice a once-over, eyes lingering on her five-inch heels. Alice knew that look. The woman obviously thought there had been a grave clerical error which had resulted in Alice's presence here. If there was one thing Alice knew, though, it was that looks were deceiving and that she most definitely should never be underestimated. The witch finally handed over a black inkwell hesitantly and, with a look of sincere determination, Alice thanked her and went back to her chair to get to filling out the parchments.