Wednesday saw Petunia striding across town to the Woolworth building, where she stood, looking around for anyone in a strange getup. Instead, she saw several men in suits, women in relatively normal if outdated dresses, and a group of teenagers in pink outfits heckling passersby.
Ah, New York. Petunia thought to herself, a small smile on her face.
She herself was in a silk button-up and white slacks, her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun, and a white ribbon choker around her neck. She looked every bit the rich, no-maj mistress. It was as she pulled open her purse to pull out her wand that two people rushed out of the building, scanning around the area with determination.
One was a short, plump man who rather reminded Petunia of a cherub. His face was round and shining, but his suit was well-tailored, and his hair was thick. The person with him was a rather severe-looking woman in a matronly Victorian-style dress that had been shortened to her knees and revealed tightly laced boots. The woman was rail thin and had uncontrolled curls surrounding her down to the small of her back.
They were both holding wands. Petunia looked at her watch. It was 12:59.
No one besides Petunia was eyeing them, and they were definitely not eyeing her, so she went right up to them with a smile.
“I presume Mr. Farnsworth has sent you?” Petunia’s voice was low but not ungrateful.
Both of the clearly magical individuals turned to look at her. The woman eyed her skeptically, meanwhile, the man looked pleasantly surprised.
“Oh, Ms. Evans, terribly sorry for the wait. We meant to be out before you’d arrived,” the man said jovially, “But you know how it can be! Meetings are always running behind, hoho!”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Yes, quite,” she smiled, despite really rather wanting to fuck right off to anywhere else. Perhaps middle America? Surely there’s no tracking in Idaho.
“Well, allow me to introduce myself,” the man began.
And then went on to explain he’s a direct report to Mr. Farnsworth. As was the woman. Their names didn’t even register to Petunia, and she politely nodded before giving a perfunctory, “Please, call me Petunia.”
It was then the pair performed a charm to reveal the MACUSA entrance. Petunia logged it for future reference. Petunia, for a moment, prepared herself to be wowed or mystified or even bewitched. Instead, she was underwhelmed. Yes, there were plenty of magica fluttering around, from enchanted statues using arrows of light to deliver messages and pixies lighting the vaulted ceiling, but mostly it was just people. They were all dressed in formal attire and they all looked dreadfully boring.
Petunia followed silently, keeping her eyes on the back of the two minions sent to collect her. They approached a glass elevator and with a quick press, they were headed to floor 56.5.
The man made small talk about the weather and the latest quidditch game and all that, and Petunia added mild nods and “oh yes” when it was appropriate, but she was otherwise disinterested in the man. The woman was likewise disinterested in Petunia.
When they disembarked from the elevator, Petunia felt distinctly smaller than she had been before. She reached out a hand to steady herself and the world shuddered and returned to normal proportions. The duo led Petunia through several hallways before they approached an open door.
“Ms. Evans,” Came a deep voice as they approached, and a tall man in a three piece suit made himself known.
He was middle aged, but the kind of middle age that one wore well.
“The very same,” Petunia smiled, holding out a hand, “Mr. Farnsworth, I presume?”
He gripped her hand for a second to long, “The very same.”