Rolling Chairs and Bacon Platters

Author Note: Welcome to the very first chapter of Of Claws and Talons! /throws confetti.

To new readers - this story tackles darker themes than Of Quills and Serpents, as the characters are older. As a tl;dr version of OQaS: Adela Lancaster, twin sister of Seth Lancaster, is a Ravenclaw (much to the disappointment of her traditionally Slytherin family). She counts things excessively and refers to her brain as Numberita. She collects quills and has a pet cat (Sir Archibald). Rose Weasley, also a Ravenclaw, is her closest friend. During her sixth year at Hogwarts, Adela had to face Ragnuk, a goblin intent on revenge on the Wizarding world, and Greyback, the werewolf. She relied on Albus (Al) Potter for help, and together they managed to escape the goblin's clutches. At the end of OQaS, Al and Adela break up due to Al's desire to enter Auror training and Adela's prior deception (she lies to him about a small encounter). Other prominent OCs who will reappear in this story: 1) Kate, a Hufflepuff with a kind heart 2) Xavier King (boyfriend of Kate)

Disclaimer - only OCs + plot belong to me. The rest of this gorgeously imagined world belongs to Rowling.

"How's the pro bono going?"

I looked up from the piles of haphazardly strewn papers threatening to choke both my oak desk and let out a highly intelligent, "Blargh," in response. I burrowed my head between my arms, overturning a rather large stack of papers - the witness depositions - in the process. Numberita ached. I ached. This whole bloody case ached.

Dear Merlin why did I ever think joining the GW firm was a good idea?

Oh yeah. Goblins. Werewolves. The whole "I want to make the world a better place" thing.

...

Well, I was an ambitious sixteen-year-old.

And now here I was - a wise and mature twenty-one-year-old (almost twenty-two! Just three weeks and two more days!). I'd pretty much learned life's secrets in the past five years, seven months, and sixteen days.

...Not really.

The person who'd asked the question - Dominique Weasley - laughed softly before moving forward. I didn't move, stubbornly staring down into the dark desk in a fit of self-pity. Ms. Granger - she'd told us to just refer to her as either Ms. Granger or Ms. Weasley, saying that it was much shorter and easier to say in a hurry - had assigned me to research the details of the case and come up with a good argument. Our client was a house elf who, much like the famous Dobby, wished to become free. In order to do so, the house elf - Daisy - wanted to sue her master - a rather nasty wizard by the name of Gregory Vince - for emotional damage and a breach of contract.

A sharp rap to the head broke Numberita from her thoughts - I looked up, moaning when I saw that Dominique had opened all the shades, flooding my small office (well, it was more like a cubicle - it was only three meters long and four meters deep) with late afternoon light.

I hissed, shielding my eyes - I hadn't been directly exposed to sunlight in, well, sixteen hours and forty-two minutes.

"Oh, come on," Dominique said crossly. Hmph. Well, someone was in a mood. Lifting my head, I stuck my tongue out at the tall blonde. She rolled her eyes, muttering something in French, and sat herself down on the corner of my desk.

"So, Ms. Hotshot Associate - how's the pro bono?" she repeated, her slim eyebrows rising pointedly. I groaned again, my shoulders slumping. I'd been promoted to Associate thirty-six days and three hours ago after two years of apprenticeship (i.e. getting coffee/running trivial errands which had NOTHING TO DO WITH LAW for the lazy butts-erm, associates employed at the GW firm). Dominique, having graduated from university a year later than I, was in her second and last year of practical training. Although we'd never spoken in Hogwarts (Numberita couldn't recall a single conversation), we'd gone to the same university - Camelot University - and I'd found myself getting closer to her.

"Honestly? I have no idea how to come up with an argument for this. Defense already has the benefit of tradition of its side; house elves, as sad as it is, are supposed to be treated like slaves - heck, they are slaves. It's going to be difficult to convince the jury that this case is wrong without challenging the whole practice as a whole - which, of course, will surely lose the case for us, considering the fact that maybe only three people in the whole Wizarding World are against the practice."

Dominique shrugged, flipping her long, shining (oh, how I envied her. My hair was currently in the "matted tumbleweed" stage - oh sod off. Yes, I know that it's always in that stage!) strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder before saying, "Why not?"

I blinked; what? Did she not just hear my whole rant on the subject? The whole - jury will surely vote against us if we try and attack it as a whole?

"I mean, no one thinks of it as slavery - only you and Aunt Hermione do. I doubt they even think about how the house elves feel. So why don't you put it into that perspective? Paint it for what it is - cruel slavery in a time in which people pride themselves on being 'modern' and 'free.'"

I blinked again - that could work. I stood up abruptly, sending my rolling chair (oh, how I loved that chair) careening into the white wall behind me, and swiftly enveloped Dominique in a hug/stranglehold combo (I swear it was a hug. She'd beg to differ).

"Merlin, Dominique! You're brilliant!" I said excitedly, Numberita already whirling to word the argument in the most efficient way. She shrugged again, preening a bit as she smoothed her pale blue blouse.

"For a Gryffindor," I hastily added. What? I had to keep up my pride as a Ravenclaw! She scowled, her pretty pink lips twisting into a deep frown as she glowered at me.

"Sod off, Lancaster," she said warningly. I shrugged, retrieving my chair (Seth had given it to me as a Congratulations-for-becoming-Associate-and-somehow -managing-to-not-get-fired present. Yes, he worded it that way. Yes, I whacked him with my new bat - Scorpius, to my delight and Seth's consternation, had given me a new bat just a few minutes before Seth's present. Although I didn't play Quidditch anymore, I still liked to carry a Beater's bat around with me).

I yanked open the main drawer of my desk and retrieved a spare roll of parchment I found buried under a stack of raven quills (oh! I'd been looking for those for three weeks and twelve days!). Using the ink well to hold the parchment flat, I began frantically scribbling down ideas with my golden quill, the words blurring together as my pace increased.

"Why don't you ever use this quill?"

I paused in my crazed scribblings to look up and see what Dominique was referring to. She dangled an all-too-familiar pearly white quill shot through with flecks of pale blues, purples, and greens. I froze for two seconds before lurching forward and plucking it from her grasp, unceremoniously shoving it back into its separate drawer.

"Don't touch that," I snapped, Numberita still suffering from the shocks of seeing the quill Al had purchased for me - how had she even opened the drawer? I was sure I had charmed it shut a week ago.

"Merlin, someone's touchy," she said, sniffing slightly in an altogether wounded manner. I cringed, already feeling terrible for snapping at her; after all, it wasn't her fault that her cousin had dumped me (okay, that I could understand - I had been an utter spineless idiot and lied to him for months) and then proceeded to pretend I didn't exist (now, that, I couldn't understand - that bloody git even ignored me when I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM DURING CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE BURROW BACK IN SEVENTH YEAR THE BLASTED UTTER PRAT OUGHT TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEA-erm, I mean, I wasn't affected by the incident, of course - I'm a mature twenty-one-year-old, after all) for the next five years. I hadn't seen or had contact with him in four years and eight months, although I knew he still owled his family and Seth occasionally during the brief periods of calm between missions.

"Sorry," I said apologetically. Dominique lifted her nose before shrugging, her fingers moving to play with the delicate fabric of her blouse.

I watched her nervous movements for another sixty-two seconds; what was wrong? Dominique was never nervous, or anxious, or anything other than the intimidatingly beautiful and collected Weasley that she normally was.

"What's wrong?" I asked finally. She looked up at me quizzically before glancing down at her clenched hands. She frowned at them before releasing the fabric.

"Victoire," she said wearily, moving to stand near the window.

Oh. Victoire - Dominique's older sister - was a highly successful model, representing several major high-fashion designers and appearing on several magazine covers. She was every teen and pre-teen girl's idol...and Dominique's source of bitter resentment. You see, dear reader who would NEVER think of laughing at me (cough cough COUGH), Dominique was a bit jealous (shh you didn't hear it from me - seriously, if she found out I told you, she would kill me) of Victoire. She, much like Al (honestly, what was it with that family and older-younger sibling strife?), felt like her parents favoured their eldest daughter. Dominique was always compared to Victoire - not so much by the Weasley side of things but by the Delacour side of the family.

And, honestly, it was hard for a lowly trainee saddled with thousands of Galleons of student debt (Camelot University was not cheap; I was still paying off my debt as well) to compete with the multi-million Galleon entity that was Victoire Weasley.

"The usual?" I asked sympathetically. She sighed, staring out the window and at the bustling streets of Diagon Alley below.

"I don't know...at the family dinner last night she and Teddy seemed a bit strained. Teddy had to leave early for a meeting with his publicist, and Victoire being Victoire...well, she blew up. Dad and Mum both fussed over her, and by that point I had no way of telling them the news. Not without sounding like a petulant child trying to reassert herself as the center of attention."

Oh. Oh no - Dominique had finally been told that she would definitely be hired as an Associate at the GW firm once her training period was up, and she'd actually been looking forward to the usually-dreaded weekly family dinner so that she could tell her parents...

"I'm sorry," I said awkwardly. Yup, I was still rubbish at consoling people. Or conversing. Or generally just being a normal human being.

Oh, sod off. Yes, I can see you laughing back there - yes, you with the Muggle electronic device.

Dominique laughed shortly before flipping her hair once more over her shoulder.

"Whatever. Nothing I can't handle," she said lightly. I eyed her for another moment, and she laughed before saying, "Seriously. Adela, I'm fine."

"Okay..." I said reluctantly before turning back to my parchment.

Five minutes of peaceful work passed, the only sounds being the calming scratching of the quill and the occasional noise from Dominique's corner. Then-

"So, what is that quill?"

I groaned; she really wasn't going to let it go. Like Rose, Dominique was doggedly determined when it came to getting her curiousity sated.

"It's nothing really - I just don't like to use it because it's expensive," I said, stumbling only a bit over the lie (hey! I was getting better! Besides, it wasn't technically a full lie. The opal quill was quite expensive).

A raised eyebrow from Dominique's direction - sigh. It was worth a shot.

"Al might have given it to me," I muttered quickly, my words blurring together in my haste to get the sentence over with.

Another pause. Then -

"Al Potter?"

Ugh.

I nodded stiffly, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on my parchment.

"My cousin? The Auror?"

...

No, the other Al Potter - you know, the one who invented bacon. Honestly.

...

Who invented bacon? Note to self: research and find said inventor. Visit grave (or house) of inventor and perform ritual of everlasting thanks (even though I don't eat bacon anymore - long story. It involves Seth. As always).

I kept my sarcastic (and witty, if I did say so myself) comments to myself, instead settling for a simple, "Yes."

"Oh," Dominique said, a stricken expression crossing her features.

Yes. Oh.

I steadfastly ignored her pitying gaze, my cheeks flushing as I concentrated on finishing my sentence. Daisy, prepare to be the unwitting frontrunner for the movement that will eventually abolish the practice of keeping house elves.

A knock sounded just as I rolled up the parchment to send off to the main lawyer on the case (a rather pompous bloke by the name of Cain Black - no relation to the infamous Black family). I exchanged a curious look with Dominique before calling out, "Come in!"

The door opened slowly, revealing a pretty and sophisticated-looking woman in a sleek charcoal grey suit. The one and only Hermione Granger-Weasley was in my office - but why? She seldom came to this section of the offices, and she rarely checked up on me any more. She walked in purposefully, her heels clicking smartly against the wooden floor, and stood before my desk. I stood up quickly, performing an awkward half-nod, half-bow (I never knew how to address her. I still got tongue-tied around her), which she graciously accepted with a small smile before quirking an eyebrow at Dominique (who, now that I thought about it, was probably supposed to be organising some files or something). Dominique said brightly, "Hi, Aunt Hermione!"

"Hello, Dominique, Adela," Ms. Granger said easily.

"Erm - hi," I stuttered. Oh! The parchment! Bending down hurriedly, I managed to smack myself in the head on the corner of the desk (oh, come on) on the way back up. Sigh.

Note to self: take ballet lessons. Or research some potion that will make me graceful.

"I have the research for the Vince case - Dominique thought about going about the case from an ethical standpoint instead of just focusing on the legal issues of the contract. You know, make the case one against house elves as slaves instead of just a typical suing," I rambled. Ms. Granger grinned - right, I'd forgotten she was famous (or infamous, depending on who you asked - Scorpius swore his father still burst out laughing uncontrollably whenever S.P.E.W. was mentioned) for her stance on pro-house elf rights.

She accepted the parchment easily, shrinking it with a silent flick of her wand, before her expression sobered.

"Adela, I'm going to need to see you in my office in exactly an hour," she said solemnly. GAH WHAT THAT DID NOT SOUND GOOD WAS I GOING TO GET FIRED OH NO WAS SETH GOING TO TAKE BACK MY ROLLING CHAIR I LOVED MY ROLLING CHAIR HE WAS GOING TO HAVE TO FIGHT ME TO THE DEATH TO GET IT BAC-

Oops. I realized Ms. Granger was looking at me oddly, and I swallowed before saying weakly, "Okay."

She nodded at me before turning on her heel and leaving, pausing only to call out, "Oh, and Dominique? Do organise the books quickly; Bones has been harping about it all day, and I'd rather not listen to another day of his complaints."

Dominique scowled at her back before sighing in resignation and standing up.

"Well, I reckon I've put it off long enough. Bones is sure to be about ready to eat his trousers by now," she said cheerfully. I stared at her disbelievingly; honestly, I couldn't see how she was so blasé about it - Richard Bones was GW's best criminal defense lawyer and was infamous for his fierce temper.

"I wonder why she wants to see me in an hour; couldn't she have just told me whatever she needed to tell me right now?" I mused, biting my lip nervously. I really didn't want to leave; as much work as it was, I loved this job.

Dominique shrugged again; "I don't know - maybe she wanted to tell you something in private?"

I frowned. "Alright, but then she could have just sent you out of the room. She was very specific with the time, though...I wonder if she wants me to meet someone?" I mused, Numberita already furiously working to solve the case.

Dominique rolled her eyes. "Ravenclaw," she muttered disdainfully. I stiffened, drawing myself up to my full (and pitifully minuscule) height.

"Out, lowly trainee!" I ordered imperiously, pointing a hand at the door. She stuck out her tongue before exiting, leaving only the faint scent of perfume behind her.

After she left, I sighed, turning around to look out the small window behind my desk. Below stood hordes of eagerly chattering students swarming the streets for the annual late summer shopping spree in preparation for the school year. I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing at the sight; my years at Hogwarts were some of the best years of my life. It was weird to think that I would never camp out in the library again, never careen down in my haste to get to the kitchens and its wonderful pumpkin juice, never escape into an abandoned classroom for a stolen kiss before the next class-

I shook my head briskly, dispelling the thoughts from Numberita. It did me no good to think of things that were gone.

Still...

I couldn't help but wonder about Al; where was he now? The last I'd heard of him, he was rapidly rising the ranks as an Auror. He'd graduated with top honors from the Merlin Auror Academy and was absent constantly due to the various top secret missions that were expected of Aurors. Harry Potter was dreadfully proud of him.

...As was I. Al had proved himself to be talented - not because he was Harry Potter's son, but because he was Al. No one could take that away from him.

I forced myself away from the window, walking instead to the door. I still had forty-eight minutes and twenty-six seconds until the meeting. I might as well grab a quick lunch before then - maybe some food would give me courage.

...Okay, so maybe I was just hungry.

"Oi! Adela!"

I looked up, my eyes widening as one very enthusiastic trainee came careening around the corner at a trajectory that landed him directly on...me.

Oof.

"Gah! Sorry!" he apologized, quickly scrambling off of me. I waved off his apology, ignoring his offered hand and standing up, wincing slightly as my sore muscles flexed.

"It's fine, Henry," I said wearily. The trainee - Henry Patil - fidgeted uncomfortably. Henry, like Dominique, was one of the few trainees at the GW firm. He'd only been here for three months and two days, but he was very energetic and often quite meddlesome (although he did have good intentions...which somehow made it more annoying when he barged into my office with a platter full of bacon because he'd heard that I like it. And then I had to explain why I couldn't eat bacon and be tortured by the smell. Henry, of course, would promptly forget it and repeat the process the next week). Well, he was clearly dying to say something.

"What is it?"

And with that, the dam broke open. And by that, I meant that the bloke started spitting rapid fire words at me that even Numberita couldn't understand.

"-and that means someone's probably died or maybe even exploded I bet they exploded because that's way more fitting for Aurors and-"

I held up a hand to slow him down, opening my mouth to ask him (nicely, I swear!) to repeat his sentence. Wait. One of those words caught Numberita's attention -

"Aurors?" I asked incredulously. What on earth was he talking about? Automatically Numberita flashed to the green-eyed boy I always associated with the word 'auror,' and I had to forcibly shove that thought out of my head so I could concentrate on Henry's words.

Henry paused to take a deep breath, his skinny frame practically collapsing on itself from the effort.

"Well, I heard that Ms. Granger's expecting some Aurors this afternoon - confidential and all that. The word on the street is that you are somehow involved. Why would Aurors come to a law firm? It doesn't make any sense; aurors hate lawyers. We make their work harder, so why would they come here?"

Henry was also the (demon) offspring (spawn) of one Parvati Patil. In other words, he was a compulsive gossiper. Last week he confronted me about my 'apparent violent tendencies.' Utter rubbish. Completely false. Honestly, the lies he picks up!

But he had a point - the meeting did match up with the time Ms. Granger asked me to go to her office. But why would I be involved with Aurors?

I leaned against the wall, my lips pursed as Numberita thought furiously, dismissing ideas as fast as she thought of them. Maybe they'd found out about that one time I whacked Scorpius too hard and he ended up in St. Mungo's for a day - no, Healer Park (remember her? The slightly scary Hufflepuff who healed me after the whole goblin thing) had assured me that it wasn't severe enough to merit a legal response. Maybe Ms. Granger was going to fire me and she fired a violent response? No, why give me a full hour to plot a way around the backup? Maybe -

"Adela?"

I looked up in surprise, my thought train broken by the strangely hesitant words. I met Dominique's eyes, and the blonde bit her lip and flicked her eyes at Henry.

"Erm...Henry, mind getting me a copy of the Book of Magical Law? I need to double check the Magical Creatures section for the Vince case," I said. Henry nodded slowly, his eyes darting between Dominique and me, and left in the direction of the extensive library located on the top floor (oh, how I adored that library).

"What is it?" I asked briskly once Henry had left.

"I ran into Aunt Hermione - she said to come to her office immediately. The meeting's been moved up," she said in a hushed voice, her brows furrowing.

I swallowed and nodded, a small, jerky movement that betrayed my nervousness to Dominique. She was still looking at me with that troubled, pitying expression.

"Adela - there...there were a lot of Aurors with her," she said hesitantly, her voice coloured with worry.

I nodded again, saying, "Thanks, Dominique. I-I'll see you later," before brushing my pocket to make sure my wand was still there - it was - and, glancing one last time at Dominique, straightened my shoulders and made my way down to my fate.

Well, this should be fun.

AN: Thanks for reading! All reviews are returned with a teaser of the next chapter c;