Eleanor cursed rather loudly as she jammed her fingers into her desk drawer again. The bloody rotten thing always stuck and seemed to wait until her fingers were in just the right place to be smushed. She was beginning to think the beaten old desk was haunted by a vicious old codger who didn't like seeing anyone use his space. Hopefully she wouldn't have to spend too much time behind her desk - the world had gone topsy turvy, surely that meant more field time for anyone in enforcement.

Shaking her throbbing fingers as though it would help, Eleanor fixed up her quills and ink and parchment, wanting to not look like a total gimboid this early on. The world needed people to help maintain order, to pull them up by its bootstraps - they didn't need a mousy teenager spilling ink all over Ministry property, even if her desk was possessed. She wanted to be something in this world. She'd made her choice and this was it. She'd come back to help in whatever way she could, and Eleanor so very desperately wanted to show them she was worthy of her wand.

The drawer suddenly flung itself open, spitting out a roll of parchment skittering onto the floor. She sighed. "I bet Harry Potter never had to deal with a tempermental desk," she muttered under her breath. "Keep it up and I'll have them use you for kindling."