Fulfilling Obligations (Harmione)

Chapter 18: Scrutiny

Harry fidgeted nervously with the sleeves of his robes as he glanced about, appraising the other young wizards sitting in the waiting room of the Auror department. A thin mousy wizard paced endlessly around the room, silently mouthing something to himself. His twitchy energy stood in contrast to a stout dark-haired man who sat rigidly in his seat, his fists gripping his trouser-covered thighs. One other wizard sat across the room from Harry, though he appeared more-or-less at ease. He seemed to be about the same height as Harry, but a bit more sturdy in build and with thick blond hair slicked back over his head.

Harry attempted to flatten his own hair against his better judgment-he knew it was a losing battle.

The eyes of all four men shot towards the door as a petite brunette witch opened it. She smiled warmly at the wizards before consulting a clipboard she held against her chest.

"Hmm. Jeffrey Hannigan?"

The dark-haired wizard stood up quickly and crossed the room in large strides, as if he were worried the young receptionist would slam the door in his face if he didn't get to her in a timely fashion. She closed the door and the mousy wizard continued his pacing with renewed vigor.

Harry sank back into his chair and took a breath. He then noticed the blonde man staring at him, his brow furrowed. Harry picked up a magazine sitting on a table next to him and perused it with faux interest, hoping the man would look away.

Instead, the man stood up, crossed the room, and sank into the chair next to Harry's.

"John Mitchell," he said, proffering his hand to Harry. "Usually go by Mitch."

"Wotcher," Harry replied as he clasped Mitch's hand, purposely withholding his name. However, he noted that Mitch's accent was distinctly American-maybe he wouldn't recognize the name anyway.

Mitch smiled, sensing Harry's reticence, and withdrew his hand. "So, you here for an Academy interview?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Yep," Mitch said, sinking back into his chair. "I just hate all this interview bullshit. They'd be better off throwing us together and letting us duke it out. Being able to spout off credentials and spells and other crap won't get you anywhere if you can't really use them in the heat of things."

Harry could practically feel the glare from the pacing wizard boring into the side of his head.

"Definitely have a point," Harry conceded. "People tend to get hurt-or worse-if you can't react in the moment."

"Exactly."

"D'you like your chances?" Harry asked.

"A fair bit," Mitch said, flashing a somewhat bashful grin. "My dad was Head Auror for the American Agency."

"Really?" Harry said, impressed.

Mitch gave a shrug. "Not that it's all on dear old dad, of course. I know Ilvermorny isn't as strong in theory, but the practical aspect of things-"

"Ilvermorny?"

Mitch tweaked an eyebrow.

"You haven't heard of Ilvermorny?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "I was raised as a Muggle-I don't exactly have the greatest foundation for the wizarding world, especially outside of England."

"Oi," Mitch said. "Probably just the American in me that expects you to've heard of it-it's the big wizarding school in the States."

He promptly pounded his chest with both fists.

"Go Wampus!" he barked, and then promptly crossed his arms as he got a few looks from about the room at his exclamation.