Summer was scarcely Helenas favourite time of the year. If anything, the supposed vacation time came with added tension that she could have, for once, done without, even though the Auror was hardly the sort to allow an obstruction to do its job and, in fact, obstruct her.

Any added stress of the moment was represented in perhaps an extra line amongst many under her eyes, and that never had made a difference before. Things went on, and as always, she arrived punctually, the first one in the room other than Scrimgeour, whose stern demeanour was almost comforting. There were few that Helena did not find fault in, and Rufus Scrimgeour was one of them. As his employee, certainly, she had no business finding fault in him in the first place, but the man was scrupulous, thorough and genuinely respectable.

She nodded at him and took her seat, looking directly at her wrist watch, and then, not very expectantly, at the door. Interns. Not exactly the bane of her existence, but they did come quite close. Helena Morgan was more than accustomed to managing matters on her own. The last thing she required were two bratty children seemingly intent on learning (but with not clear clue of what being an Auror entailed and people like Leathan Collier did not set the best of examples, really, even if the man was, astonishingly, not very late on this particular morning). She did not really enjoy assigning them the ground work, and she did not exactly fit into the mentor category.

Though nonetheless since it was required of her, she was here, prepared to handle any sort of teenager that was assigned to her in the same manner she had employed over the previous summer. Never mind that it had not been quite the fun experience her interns had expected it to be. It was not, in the least bit, meant to be, and she wasnt, after all, an entertainment device.

Though there was the undeniable pressure of having to instruct correctly and accurately. It had never been what one might have called Helenas forte, as a conversation, or lack thereof, with her younger daughter this morning had proved. There were fewer times in her life than there were people she could genuinely respect, when Helena felt distinctly uncertain, and this was one of them. Though she sat, straight-backed as ever, sparing a raised eyebrow at Leathans somewhat inappropriate posture, and looked away, a glimmer of approval in her eye at Ms. Traverss comment.

Despite which, she could feel the familiar tidings of what promised to be a somewhat long meeting.
"Dog. A kind of additional or subsidiary deity designed to catch the overflow and surplus of the world's worship."
- Ambrose Pierce -