There's nothing more expensive than a missed opportunity

[Ginevra Molly Potter]

Solo 
Daily Prophet Offices, Diagon Alley

August 2029

Eight years. She had spent eight years rotting away in this job. When she had taken the post in the Summer of 2022, for the beginning of the 2023 Season, she had been keen & enthusiastic. Things had been taking off for women in the Quidditch league. Sure there was people, the old guard, who thought a woman should never be given such an important job. She had been so excited stepping up, even with the big shoes to fill she had wanted to make a difference.

But eight years had come and gone, and there wasn't so much as near enough change she had wanted to see in the league.

Despite having somewhat of a big name in the Quidditch world, it hadn't commanded enough of the respect she needed for this job. Eight years she had given to the office and still there were whispers of the old stock hoping for her to announce her retirement; something else to move on to, to let them have control of it all again. Really she thought it was laughable, even the jobs remit only stretched so far. A position as a high powered sports editor who gave her opinion to the Ministry's branch of magical games and sprots that formed the UK & Irish Quidditch League. However, it was very rare that opinion was actually listened to.

She had tried so hard. Backing bills and amendments that would benefit the sport, to hopefully make it more accessible in a lot of ways. Had lobbied in her written pieces in the Prophet to try and win people to her side. But it had all fallen on deaf ears. The Quidditch league hadn't wanted to know her. Once upon a time she had been their poster child for women in the sport, but now she was a washed up has been in their eyes and they had naught to gain from her. It just about mirrored her life at home. She had her kids to show for her marriage sure, but now they were all grown up and out in the world themselves. They had no need for her to contribute anything to their lives either. She mused that, maybe if they started having children any time soon she might become more useful to them, but for now she was just some more background noise to their lives.
Even things with Harry had dulled again. Things had burned bright when they had rekindled their marriage, but now there was nothing. They just seemed to go through the motions on a day to day basis with no real emotions. There was an incessant low level of resentment that sat with her each day. Even in her great professional standing, at the big wig Galas Harry hated going to, she was always just known as one thing; Harry Potter's wife. Not her own person.

It was late in the evening. The sun was finally starting to set outside the window of her office, casting weird shadows on Diagon Alley. It was much later than she needed to stay in the office really, but she was better here, throwing herself into work. Better than being at home by herself with a bottle of wine or two. Harry worked most evenings in the Hound and Harrier. Or so he told her anyway, he could have just been spending time there to stay away from her and out of the house. She had grown to find the quiet evenings by herself in the house unbearable. She had gotten up to cross her office and glance out the window at Diagon alley below, watching people scurrying here and there; going home to their families, or meeting their friends. Her throat tightened at the idea of it. It had been her once upon a time, but now she was here; hiding in her office, closer to the age of fifty than she would like.

Her gaze was focused on a younger girl no older than twenty one years old, slinking towards the Leaky Cauldron. She was all glammed up, likely heading in to meet her friends for a tipple to start the night out, or heading into Muggle London for the night. A stab of jealousy roiled in her chest; oh to be young again. To be carefree. To do things for yourself and not everyone else who depends on you.

A dinging noise from her desk computer pulled her from that bitter thought. Dragging her away from the window and the people she watched from it. With a slight frown, she paused, wondering who would be emailing her so late in the evening; it was a little peculiar. Regardless it had peaked her interest and she crossed the room to lean in to the screen from where she stood to check the sender. A rusty coloured eyebrow rose as her eyes skimmed the screen. Now that really was interesting. At a glance it was a long email. Pausing to mull things over, she decided it garnered just enough of her attention and with that; she settled herself back into the desk chair to take it all in.