Remus John Lupin had come to take a look.
It had been a full month since he'd lost his last job.
Over that month, life had only grown tighter and more meagre.
The people of Hogsmeade were no strangers to his face by now; finding work here was difficult. Even for seven Galleons a week.
"Are you here to apply for the manager position as well?"
A young witch blocked him at the bookshop door and directed him into a separate line from regular customers.
"Miss, I'm here to apply for a clerk's job,"
he said.
"What's the difference? If you don't get manager, you can still try for clerk afterward."
The young witch was clearly busy; she hurried back to the door to drag more applicants over to this side.
Lupin glanced around inside the shop. Only one book series was on display: the "Green's Notes" mentioned on the banner.
Every shelf and counter was filled with that one title, in different formats—collected editions, more detailed volumes, and lighter topic-specific booklets.
For a bookstore, that was unheard of. No shop in the world would dare stock only a single series, yet this one clearly did.
He soon understood why.
The books were selling—very well.
He pulled a copy of History of Magic – Green's Notes off the nearest shelf and started reading. Before long, he found himself getting drawn in.
Until—
"Do we have a wizard whose wand is ten and a quarter inches, cypress, unicorn hair core, age between thirty-two and thirty-three?"
the young clerk called out.
The applicants all stared, then erupted in chatter. What kind of requirement was that?
Lupin was more confused than the rest. The description might as well have been pointing straight at him.
"I may fit that,"
Lupin said.
"Please come with me,"
the clerk replied after giving him a quick, satisfied once-over.
Only when he stepped into the back room did Lupin understand what was going on.
The room had thick, plush carpet and walls lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves. The fireplace roared cheerfully, and a set of fine silverware held something wholly out of place with the decor: simmering pumpkin juice.
In one armchair, a blond boy was sorting through contracts and paperwork. In another, a dark-haired boy was reading.
When Lupin came in, both of them looked up.
"We meet again, sir,"
the blond boy said, then headed out.
"Sean, I'll leave him to you."
In a moment, only the two of them remained.
Lupin suddenly felt nervous—nervous in the way one gets facing something unknown.
"May I ask who you are?"
He truly hadn't the slightest idea what this boy wanted from him. What was there to scheme over—a patchwork robe, a shabby wizard… or a werewolf?
What unsettled him more was how young these two "managers" were, and how their clothes, if you looked closely, were clearly from Twillfitt & Tatting's—far from cheap.
They looked like family scions from old houses.
"Sean Green,"
Sean said.
Lupin was momentarily lost for words. This child—
And at that name, his mind jumped back to the sign above the shop: Green's Bookshop.
Suddenly a lot made sense.
No wonder the History of Magic notes felt a touch immature—though they laid out an entirely new structure, gave the reader a fresh, excellently readable approach, you could still spot gaps in the author's knowledge if you looked hard enough.
By the standards applied to published authors, it was just above "passable."
By the standards applied to a first- or second-year Hogwarts student—
It was absurd. Impossible. Like something out of a fairy tale.
"This is a series I published with my friends,"
Sean said, closing his book.
"We're still studying at Hogwarts, so we need an acting shop manager. I wonder what you'd think of that, sir."
Lupin's gaze dropped. He had never been able to hold down a job for long; once his condition was discovered, he was almost always shown the door.
But he was broke. And he did need the work.
"I'm afraid I must decline…"
he said hoarsely.
These two schoolboys, it turned out, were out here trying to hire a manager. They must have gone to great lengths to slip away from Hogwarts; Lupin knew exactly how hard that was, especially for rule-abiding students.
They likely only had this one chance. If he was fired, they'd have to wait for the holidays to recruit again.
"Could you give me a reason?"
Sean asked.
"I—I'm… a werewolf."
There was something about this boy—when he asked straightforwardly, it became incredibly hard to lie.
"That's all right. I can give you two extra days off a month, as long as you get the shop in order beforehand,"
Sean replied, as if it were a minor scheduling issue. Lupin froze on the spot.
"Perhaps you don't understand what I mean—"
"Someone who looks like anyone else most of the month, but grows fur and fangs and turns into a wolf under the full moon?"
Sean said.
"You're registered with the Werewolf Registry, right? You remember the Werewolf Code of Conduct—locking yourself up each full moon so no one gets hurt."
"Of course…"
Lupin said.
"Then there isn't a problem."
Sean's expression made Lupin wonder if every employer he'd ever had had been overreacting. After a long moment, he gave a helpless smile.
"Child, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but you don't seem to understand what being a werewolf really means."
Sean held his gaze, those green eyes very clear.
"Outside of being a werewolf, you're still a wizard, aren't you?"
There was a book lying on Sean's desk: Hairy Snout, Human Heart.
It was an anonymously published work by WhizzHard Books, telling the heartbreaking story of a wizard struggling against lycanthropy; by the 1990s it had become a classic.
"You'll have a one-month trial,"
Sean added.
"If you can't do the job, I'll still let you go."
Lupin let out a short, breathy laugh. It seemed he'd run into an unusually interesting boy.
"I'll do my best,"
he said.
Once they slipped back out of the bookshop, Justin split off from Sean.
He didn't ask why Sean had hired a werewolf as manager; he just kept sneakily studying Lupin with curiosity.
And Sean, conveniently, now had another helper:
"First we'll stop by the joke shop, then we'll swing over to Gringotts. You can Apparate, right?"
Sean asked.
That way he wouldn't have to bother Gert, who was already running herself ragged.
Since the Diagon Alley branch was running like clockwork, the Weasley twins had "borrowed" her to help expand into Hogsmeade.
"You'll be the Duchess of the North!"
Fred liked to joke.
"They doubled her salary!"
George would add.
Gert had no answer for them, so she usually just fumed. Sean didn't want to add to her stress right now.
"Of course,"
Lupin said, pulling his patched coat a little tighter around him.