"Are you certain it's safe to go outside?" asked Astoria, a hint of worry in her voice. "Now that he's back as Headmaster, I'm certain Professor Dumbledore would accommodate you, if you just asked…"
"This isn't something I can avoid," said Oleandra helplessly, as she threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, watching as the flames turned emerald green. "If I want to continue my education, I'll have to take my O.W.L.s."
It had been three months since Oleandra had woken up half-dead in a pool of her own blood in Malfoy Manor, and escaped by the skin of her teeth with her little sister and her mother. Severely weakened, Oleandra had remained in hiding with what was left of her family, until she had fully recuperated from her injuries— but the time had come for her to rejoin society.
"Don't forget your headband, just in case," said Astoria, before adding, "You know, I could go with you…"
Astoria handed Oleandra the green piece of cloth, which Oleandra wrapped around her head and under her hair; which had got so long that it now reached her ankles.
"You stay here and keep an eye on Mother," Oleandra said gently. "I'll be back in a few hours, okay?"
She affectionately patted her little sister on the head, before stepping into the roaring emerald flames, clearly enunciating, "Ministry of Magic!"
The world spun around her, and a split second later, Oleandra was finding herself walking into the Ministry of Magic's Atrium, which was bringing back all sorts of unpleasant memories. The black marble floor had returned to its pristine state, and the golden fountain had been restored to its former glory— it was hard to believe that this had been where the Lindorm's Projection had gone on a rampage, nearly flattening Voldemort himself, before turning on its summoners and tearing them to ribbons.
Unsure as to where to go next to sit her O.W.L.s, Oleandra made her way to the opposite side of the Atrium, past the Fountain of Magical Brethren and to the security desk.
"Name?" asked a bored-looking Witch at the desk, with a thick Cockney accent. "Reason for your visit?"
"Er, hello— I'm Oleandra Greengrass," Oleandra said tentatively. "I'm looking for the Wizarding Examinations Authority…"
Not even bothering to listen to the rest of what Oleandra had to say, the security Witch began tapping away at an old-fashioned typewriter, and half a second later, an item rattled down an old pneumatic tube that had been installed into the wall to her right; producing a series of pinging sounds as it fell into the tube's receptacle.
"Remedial O.W.L.s, I s'pose?" said the security Witch. "You'll be looking for the Department of Magical Education on Level 1, just past the Support Staff Wing. Ah, and here's your visitor's badge, you'll be required to wear it somewhere visible, for as long as you're on the Ministry's premises…"
The security Witch retrieved the object from the pneumatic tube's receptacle, before sliding it across her desk to Oleandra, who picked it up curiously. It was a small silvery badge that read:
Oleandra Greengrass. Dunce.
"Oi!" Oleandra protested indignantly, upon reading her descriptor. "If I hadn't been stabbed through the heart, I would have gladly sat my O.W.L.s when I was supposed to!"
"Yes, yes, I've heard them all," said the Security Witch sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Now, off you go; unless you want to miss your O.W.L.s a second time…"
It was true that Oleandra was looking remarkably hale and hearty for someone who used to have a gaping hole in their chest, just a few months ago— but that did not stop her from shooting a withering glance at the Security Witch, who was now busy admiring her painted nails.
"Ah, Miss Greengrass, there you are!" a man's voice suddenly called out behind her. "I'm glad I caught you before you left for your exams— I rushed here as soon as I was given word of your visit."
The Security Witch's jaw dropped open, and she alternated between staring at Oleandra and the man standing behind her, her eyes wide as saucers.
"Minister Scrimgeour, I presume?" said Oleandra, as she turned around to face her interlocutor. "I've read about you in The Daily Prophet."
Rufus Scrimgeour was the new Minister for Magic; Fudge had been ousted for his mishandling of the whole 'Voldemort isn't back' debacle, after a motion of no confidence had been moved against him.
The commotion that Oleandra and company had caused during their fight against Voldemort had drawn the Aurors' attention— they had witnessed them routing the Dark Lord, which had finally convinced Fudge that Voldemort had indeed returned! Seeing was believing, after all!
"Why don't I guide you to your destination?" Scrimgeour suggested. "We can walk and talk, as we head to the remedial O.W.L.s's venue..."
With the Minister for Magic himself by her side, Oleandra was now drawing many more looks from the Ministry workers milling about in the Atrium. Under normal circumstances, Oleandra would have been pleased to receive so much attention, but since Voldemort had plenty of agents planted within the Ministry, the last thing she wanted now was for them to know where she was…
"I'm told that you are a brilliant young Witch, especially skilled in the art of Runesmithing," said Scrimgeour, as they passed by the restored Fountain of Magical Brethren. "Have you given any thought to your future career path?"
"I'm very good at the Healing Arts," said Oleandra distractedly, as she scanned the sea of Ministry personnel for threats. "I used to think that I wanted to become a Healer, but with the world heading in its current direction…"
The crowd parted as they approached the lifts, allowing them to skip the line. Oleandra and the Minister entered one of the free lifts, and Scrimgeour pressed the '1' key on the control panel. Even though there was still plenty of space left inside, nobody joined them— so, the grilles closed, and the lift started upwards…
"Allow me to be perfectly frank," said Scrimgeour coolly. "You and your companions have become somewhat of a legend, around here. Potter might have safeguarded the prophecy stolen from the Department of Mysteries, but you have gone above and beyond— you have actually defeated Voldemort."
Hearing Voldemort's name escaping the man's lips so easily came somewhat as a surprise to Oleandra, who was used to people making faces whenever she said it.
'Level 1,' said the lift's cool female voice. 'Minister for Magic and Support Staff.'
The lift's grilles opened, and Oleandra and Rufus Scrimgeour stared at each other silently.
"While the profession of Healer is indeed admirable, it does not win wars by itself," said Scrimgeour. "Men and women of action win wars— leading by example, inspiring the masses. Like it or not, you have become an icon, so I will tell you the same words I have told your sister— stand by the Ministry in its time of need, and I see a future in which one of you becomes Minister for Magic."
Oleandra's eyes widened. What had he just said about her missing sister…?
"Good day, Miss Greengrass," said Scrimgeour, as he stepped off the lift without a second look back. "And good luck with your O.W.L.s…"