The Ministry cafeteria was abuzz with the usual chatter of witches and wizards on their lunch breaks. In one corner, Gary Potter slumped at a cramped table, looking as though he had been hit by a Stupefy spell. Across from him, Hermayonaise was meticulously flipping through "Advanced Potion-Making for Dating Disasters," while Ronny Weasley was poking at a particularly unappetizing bowl of soup.

“So,” Hermayonaise began without looking up from her book, “how’s your first day at the Ministry going?”

Gary groaned, letting his head fall onto the table with a thud. “I don't think it could be worse. They stuck me in an office that’s basically a broom cupboard. And you know what my first task was? Chasing up broom parking fines. They confiscated my wand to ‘prevent magical interference.’ I’m not sure if they hired me to work or to punish me.”

Ronny grinned, pouring an extra heap of sugar into his tea. “Parking fines, huh? That’s quite the downgrade for the Chosen One.”

“Yeah, well,” Gary grumbled, lifting his head, “after they read through my file and listed every chaotic incident I’ve been involved in, they decided I was better off not touching anything important. And by ‘important,’ I mean anything at all.”

Hermayonaise sighed. “Look, Gary, you only just swore on the Book of the Law. They’re bound to keep you on a tight leash until they’re sure you’re not going to accidentally—or deliberately—hex the entire Ministry into oblivion.”

Gary glared at her. “I told them I wasn’t going to cause any problems. I’m practically a saint now.”

Ronny snorted. “You? A saint? You’ve been here for half a day, and I’ve already heard about two incidents. You misfiled a report on ‘dangerous cauldron fumes’ under ‘recreational activities’?”

Gary crossed his arms defensively. “That was an honest mistake! And to be fair, cauldron fumes can be... interesting.”

Hermayonaise finally glanced up from her book. “Well, well, well, so they did try to give you something more engaging before demoting you to fines! You’re lucky they haven’t put you in the basement with the broomsticks yet.”

Gary shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that. I heard it’s cold down there. And full of cobwebs.”

The conversation was interrupted by an owl swooping into the cafeteria and dropping a letter in front of Gary. He opened it with a sense of dread, but to his relief, it was just an invite to an after-work event.

“Oooh,” Gary said, his mood brightening momentarily. “I had a date last night.”

Hermayonaise raised an eyebrow. “You? A date? And how did that go?”

Gary groaned again, louder this time, sinking deeper into his chair. “It was a disaster. Worse than the time I accidentally summoned a swarm of pixies in your kitchen. She brought her broom. To the date.”

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Ronny choked on his tea, trying not to laugh. “Her broom? Why?”

“She treated it like it was her best friend,” Gary said, exasperated. “Kept talking to it, stroking it, whispering sweet nothings to it. ‘Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll be flying soon.’ It was like I wasn’t even there.”

Hermayonaise shook her head. “Sounds like a classic case of Broom Attachment Syndrome. Quidditch fans can be a bit... intense.”

Gary threw his hands up. “First, I get dumped because I accidentally hex a cat, now I’m losing out to a broom. What’s next?”

Ronny, still chuckling, leaned forward. “You’ve got the worst luck with witches, mate. Remember that one who turned everything into kittens whenever she got nervous? You ought to be romancing Voldemort from what I’ve heard,” he said, winking at Hermayonaise. “You tried putting a spell on any of these duds to make ‘em look like her? Least then you might have a bit more fun.”

Gary’s eyes widened. “Don’t start, mate!”

Hermayonaise raised her wand absentmindedly, casting a small cleaning charm to tidy up the crumbs on the table. “Honestly, Gary, if you didn’t jump into these dates without thinking, you might avoid so many disasters.”

Gary huffed. “It’s not like I’m looking for them! They just... appear. And by then, it’s too late.”

Hermayonaise set her book down, giving him a pointed look. “You know, there are spells to detect magical abnormalities. Maybe try casting one before the date next time.”

Gary rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and ruin the surprise? Where’s the fun in that?”

Ronny burst into laughter. “Fun? Mate, you’re dating witches who could curse your entire flat if you say the wrong thing.”

Gary shrugged. “I like to live dangerously.”

Hermayonaise sighed. “Gary, there’s a difference between living dangerously and trying to get your, erm, man-wand blown off.”

Before Gary could protest, the cafeteria door swung open, and Madame Blotts entered, her sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on the trio. She made her way over, curiosity piqued by the looks on their faces.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, settling into an empty chair. “Why does Gary look like he’s had another encounter with the business end of a rogue Bludger?”

Hermayonaise smirked. “He had a date last night.”

Madame Blotts raised an eyebrow. “Ah, this should be good. What happened this time?”

Gary sighed. “She had a... broom obsession.”

Madame Blotts chuckled, folding her hands on the table. “Broom obsession? You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“Look, it wasn’t that bad,” Gary muttered defensively. “I mean, sure, she kept stroking the broom the entire time, but it’s not like she cast any spells on me.”

Ronny, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, added, “That’s progress, mate. Maybe by next year, you’ll actually date someone who isn’t basically a Muggle freestyling with a stolen wand.”

Gary glared at him but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto his face. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

Madame Blotts leaned back, surveying Gary’s miserable expression. “You know, there’s a witch in my department who might be just your type.”

Gary raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “What’s wrong with her?”

Madame Blotts grinned. “Oh, nothing major. Just a slight obsession with collecting the toenail clippings of famous wizards.”

Gary’s eyes widened in horror. “Nope. I’m done. I’m officially giving up on dating.”

Hermayonaise nodded approvingly. “Finally, a smart decision.”

But Ronny, still grinning, clapped him on the back. “Don’t give up yet, mate. There’s bound to be a Voldemort doppelgänger out there somewhere.”

Gary groaned, sinking deeper into his chair. “At this point, I’d settle for a date who doesn’t seem to think her broom is Prad Bitt.”