Dec 08, 2019 12:46 AM
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"Kinda. Are you here because you wanted to be or did your parents drag you along as a prop?"

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"I got dragged, mostly," Emma admits. "It was okay sometimes, but... tax credits. And beets."

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"I asked to come. The tax credit part was actually interesting. If people can save money by having kids they might have more and then the population might recover."

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"True," Emma agrees, "but that's, um... kind of far off. They seem to have lots of plans for way far away and not a whole lot for now."

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"Yeah. I don't know. The way-far-away plans are the only ones that we're probably going to be able to have useful opinions on, since we are currently eleven."

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"I'm sure we'll have opinions," Emma giggles. "Just, no one will listen to us."

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"That's why I said useful opinions."

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"They might listen to you," Emma points out. "You did kill a Dementor."

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"They think it might be just a weird thing I can do, like how Harry Potter talks to snakes, I'm not sure if it will help much."

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"But... but... Harry could talk to snakes because he could kill Voldemort, right? That's kind of an important skill...?!"

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"Well, I mean, Voldemort could also talk to snakes. It's a thing some people can just do, is talk to snakes, they think it might be like that."

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It's at about this point that Emma's parents decide to follow her; it somewhat lessens their indignant spluttering about protecting their daughter when they cannot produce her upon demand.

"There you are," her mother says, coming up behind Emma. "Oh, Miranda! Hello. Did you have a good time at the meeting?"
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"I'm glad I came," says Miranda diplomatically.

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"Thank you, for what you did," Emma's mother adds, pulling Emma into a hug. Emma sort of awkwardly half-cuddles, half squirms in embarrassment. "I don't know what we would've done..."

Emma's father nods along solemnly.
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"You're welcome. I'm really glad it worked," says Miranda.

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"Me too!" Emma says fervently.

"Do you know anything about the plans the Aurors mentioned?" Emma's father asked.
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"I think Professor McGonagall has been giving them trouble because I'm, you know, eleven. I really, really want to kill more Dementors but I don't know a way to talk to Aurors about it without reporters being all over me."

Miranda's mum pats her shoulder.
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"Reporters," Emma's father scowls. "Bane of the wizarding world and no mistake. Some of the drivel the Prophet is writing nowadays, it might as well be the Quibbler!"

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"The Quibbler sometimes runs legitimate articles, you just have to tell the difference," says Miranda's mum.

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Emma's mother looks like she is about to say something about that. Emma not very subtly steps on her foot.

"Ah. Well. Let us know if there's anything we can do?" she says instead. "Bill, perhaps you could find an Auror for Miranda to talk to?"

Emma's father looks at Miranda doubtfully. "Don't know how it would help with the reporters and all, but I'll try if you want," he agrees.
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"Well, if the Auror doesn't talk to reporters, then as long as I get a chance to talk to the Auror, we can find ways to meet that don't involve being places reporters might find us," Miranda says.

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"Aurors do not typically sign up for their job expecting fame and glamour," Emma's father says with a cynical smile. "I'll see who I can find."

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"Thank you!" says Miranda sunnily.

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"Welcome. Least I could do," he says. "Coming, Emma?"

Emma starts to drift after her parents. "See you at school, Miranda?"
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"See you."

And then hols are over. Back on the train with them. Miranda's mum cuts the timing close so she doesn't have to linger on the platform as a media target.
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