Whitney Writes…

Cirice couldn’t help but laugh. “If you mean your roommate from nearly thirty years ago, then yes, t’s me,” she said in a low voice. She offered a smile. “How are you, Jo?”

“Cirice Forge,” Joanne said pointedly, “you’re one of the first things I remembered, you know.” Cirice swallowed, uncertain how that made her feel. Flattered, she supposed, but also, guilty. “Apologies,” Joanne continued, “I assume that’s why you’re here, that you’ve heard through… your ways… that I’ve remembered everything. That I’ve written a book.” She smiled knowingly. “This is the third, actually,” she went on, “it took you lot a while to catch on.”

Cirice took a sip of her tea, forcing herself not to react. She reminded herself that Joanne was very likely quite hurt. Perhaps looking for someone to blame. Why not her roommate who had become a successful witch? Did Joanne know she had become the Headmistress of Hogwarts?

A waitress for the teashop approached their table. “I have a cup of French Onion Soup for Cirice?” the girl said hesitantly, pausing at the atmosphere of the table.

Cirice raised her hand, grateful for the distraction.

“Jo-” she began, once the waitress had retreated.

“Are you only here because your people feel threatened by me?” Joanne cut her off. She smirked. “I know your father’s the Minister of Magic, top dog in your world.” Joanne winked at her. “You did a little digging on me, I did some digging on you.”

Cirice sat back in her chair, regarding Joanne. She no longer felt like she had the upper hand in this meeting.

Inktober 2025, Prompt #27: ONION🧡🖤👻🎃