Pinky Promise || Wolfstar

Chapter 5

"I think that went rather well; don't you think?" Remus had his hand on the center of Harry's back, guiding him out of the courtroom.

"I'd rather not jinx it," Harry answered timidly, but he still felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

They followed a Ministry worker to a set of benches that lined the hallway, where they were instructed to wait for the social worker to retrieve Harry.

"We're in the home stretch, Harry," Remus assured him as Harry began to fidget with his school robes again.

Interviewing with the social worker should be significantly less nerve-wracking than presenting to the Wizengamot, since it was one-on-one, but this time Harry was alone—he didn't even have Remus' reassuring presence by his side.

"You'll be okay," Remus squeezed his knee, sensing his nervousness.

"Pinky promise?" Harry presented him with his pinky, grinning cheekily.

Remus chuckled, basking in the warmth that spread through his chest. "Pinky promise."

"Mr. Lupin?" A Ministry official was approaching them, dressed in expensive-looking dress robes. "I'd like to speak with you for a moment, I just have some follow-up paperwork to go over."

Remus hesitated, looking at Harry uncertainly. "Sorry, we were waiting for Ms. Fenwick to meet with Harry."

"She'll be along in a few minutes," the official assured them.

"Alright then," Remus cleared his throat, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze as he stood. "You'll be okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded quickly, but Remus could tell how nervous he was from the way he lowered his head, keeping his hands in his lap to take up as little space as possible.

"Tell you what, why don't you get started on that Defense essay?"

"But—" Harry frowned, "But I don't have a—"

"Six inches on the mechanism of expelliarmus," Remus said smoothly, winking over his shoulder as he left with the official.

Grumbling under his breath, Harry dug some blank parchment and a self-inking quill out of his schoolbag. Secretly, he was glad for the distraction, especially since it was a rather easy topic.

Harry was using the seat of the bench as a writing surface, scribbling out his essay with his wrist at an awkward angle when his shoulders tensed. He could hear the click of high-heeled shoes as someone approached him.

"Mr. Potter?" A tall witch looked down at the clipboard balanced in the crook of her elbow, then back up at him.

"Er, yes." Harry said. "Are you Ms. Fenwick?"

"Please, call me Hazel." She smiled warmly and reached her hand out to shake Harry's hand.

"Hazel," he repeated, nodding.

"Why don't we come to my office? It's just down the hall."

"Right." Harry stood quickly, knocking his forgotten essay to the ground, and his face reddened as he scooped up the parchment and quill before hurrying after Hazel.

Hazel's office was small, with most of the space taken up by a desk and a couch that was pushed up against the wall. As Harry followed her inside, several muggle lamps lit up in a soft glow, and he figured they must have been modified to run on magic.

"Go ahead and take a seat," Hazel gestured to the armchair positioned on the other side of her desk, opposite of the desk chair that she settled into. "I'd like to assure you that our conversation will remain confidential; none of the information you provide leaves this room."