The Magic Umbrella

The relentless rain poured down the otherwise spotless windows in large sheets, distorting the buildings outside and forcing them to appear large and nightmarishly out of proportion. It was inefficient, he told himself, watching the dark gray clouds weep for everything and everyone, but it was so peaceful and calm. The rain would soon turn to slush and snow, he mused.

Percy Weasley simply sat in the large, comfortable chair that he sat in everyday, just as he had for the past three months. Tapping his fingers together pensively, he snuck a nervous glance at his wristwatch, wondering how much peace he had left.

Three minutes to go, he thought. Three minutes. Three minutes until work began, until the daily grind started up again. Approximately 180 seconds until Vivien Hemmingway burst through the right hand doorway, bubbling with her usual excitement about where she had gone for dinner last night and all that sort of thing; Percy steadied himself for the coming tortures.

He could see her now, getting off one of the Muggle buses and opening a large umbrella, stepping out into the dreary weather. She was so stubborn not to Apparate or to simply fly there, no, she had to use public transportation. Two minutes.

Hemmingway would be wearing a short black peacoat with a nice little black beret on, a long red scarf tied round her collar, and underneath she would wear a modest blue skirt with a yellow blouse, all primary colours today. One minute ten seconds.

"How do you do, Sir?" she would say. Always calling him Sir. Hemmingway absolutely flat-out refused his request to be called Mr. Weasley. He never understood why she did things the way she did. Forty seconds.

She was so sunny and cheerful, yet so incredibly frustrating. She never seemed to be flustered by anything, and if it was even possible, problems made her even more cheerful. He didn't like to admit it, but beyond his annoyed exterior and his constant criticism of her, he sort of enjoyed having such a nice girl for a secretary.

That did not mean, though, that he liked her in any way except as a trophy. Not many employees as young as himself and right out of school got a secretary so soon. Of course, Mr. Crouch was depending on him to do his job, so of course he needed an administrative assistant.

And as usual, the upside of having a secretary in his homelife meant more bragging rights than anyone else, as Mother was so impressed with his upperhand in the Ministry like that.

He had even been invited to be one of the judges at the Yule Ball at Hogwarts! Percy smiled to himself and felt a sense of glowing pride and happiness, even at the rain outside his window.

As if in response to his euphoria, thunder crashed from overhead and Percy heard the door swing open. He glanced quickly at his watch again and noted with some satisfaction that she arrived exactly at the time he predicted. Determined not to let the news out in front of Hemmingway, Percy put on his best business face and slowly rotated his comfortable chair to face her.

"Good morning, Sir," she said cheerfully.

"Ah, Hemmingway. Didn't expect to see you this early." She looked up from unwrapping the red scarf from around her neck to give him a polite smile.

"Well, the buses were running a bit late this morning..." she began, and continued as the black pea coat was hung on the post to reveal a very bright outfit. Just as he had expected. She was almost too shocking to look at, and Percy winced slightly. How did she manage to cover herself up, and how had he managed to predict her attire for the morning?

"And so Susannah said that white wine most CERTAINLY went with Dragon Liver, as you KNOW it's a delicacy! How was your night yesterday?" He smiled affectedly and shrugged.

"Oh, just fine, I suppose. Well, shall we begin?" he inquired briskly, indicating the large bag she had been toting. She smiled, showing her straight and white teeth.

"Certainly, just let me get this thing out..." Hemmingway pulled out her wand and a large typewriter shot out of the bag and made a large thumping sound as it landed on Percy's desk. A magicographer, he mused.

"Very well," he said aloud, "I will now dictate. Dear Mr. Bashir: We have been notified by various sources of your actions regarding a certain shipment of what has been presumed to be magical carpets into this country..." And so the morning went by. Percy happily corrected Hemmingway numerous times and was very pleased to have to make her retype 3 letters over because the magicographer was acting up and not spacing the words properly.

And yet, not matter how many times he told her not to type so slowly or to straighten up or not to look at the keys while they moved of their own accord, Hemmingway seemed to become more and more pleased with every little snip he made. It was nearing the lunch hour and Percy was tired. Just as he had the day before, the day before that, and the day before that. It had been the same routine for 2 months.

Two months. Had it really been that long? Two months since...since Penny had said goodbye? Percy listened to the quiet clicking of Hemmingway's magicographer and felt a pang of sadness he hadn't let penetrate his morning's work earlier. Why did he feel remorse now?

"Sir?" Hemmingway's soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"Sir, are you alright? You don't look well! Perhaps you should go home and rest." Percy sighed. Yet another of Hemmingway's annoying habits. Constantly mother-smothering him and looking after him as though he wasn't practically 19 years old and an adult in his own right.

But she's 18 and a half too, a little voice said. So? Well, doesn't she have the right to be treated like an adult too? She's a secretary! Oh, shut up. Percy took a deep breath.

"Alright, Hemmingway, that's enough for this morning. Take an hour for lunch."

"Where are you going for lunch, Sir?"

"Oh, I was going home. My mother always makes something for my father and I during the lunch hour." Why had they suddenly started this conversation? It was as though they had been good friends for several years.

"Really? I wish my mum lived in England, I'd go and visit her sometimes."

"Where does she live?"

"Switzerland. She's a Head of some Department at their Ministry or something like that."

Percy rose from his chair and was about to take his hat off the coatrack when he noticed a very large black umbrella hanging upside down he hadn't seen before.

"Miss Hemmingway?" he queried.

"Mmm--yes, sir?" she replied, zipping up the large bag.

"Is this yours?" he said, indicating the umbrella. She smiled and strod over to take it into her hands.

"When I was 10 and a half years old, my grandmother, who was a fortune teller in Guernica, gave this to me and told me that it was a magic umbrella. I've had it 9 years now, and I haven't seen any magic in it whatsoever, except when one opens it up." She unclasped it and opened it, revealing a brilliant array of tiny, sparkling white lights, twinkling serenely.

"Magic Christmas tree lights," she said in reply to his surprised stare. "My family is very fond of strange things, this obviously being one of them. I've still never been able to figure out what the lights are for. Whenever I open the umbrella, they always make me feel so much better even though it's raining.

"My mother once told me the umbrella contains an ancient love potion. I suppose I'll never really find out, will I?"

And with that, she smiled politely at him, closed the umbrella, and was soon out of Percy's sight, leaving him to try to decipher the meaning of her puzzling words.