Anthony lay on the bed in the Leaky Cauldron, idly playing with the skeletal cat's paw.
To repair his pet, he'd spent half the day in the pub's kitchen, producing a long table full of boneless chicken wings, boneless chicken legs, boneless chicken soup, and boneless fried chicken.
Five chickens paid with their lives. Anthony paid for five chickens with his money. Considering he was repairing a cat that didn't need to eat, this was quite a bargain.
The landlord knocked on his door. "Mr. Anthony, Professor Burbage is here."
The Leaky Cauldron's landlord was called Tom, a kindly bald old man. He and his pub gave exactly the same impression: somewhat dark and dilapidated, but oddly quite warm... and you'd never know how much alcohol he had stocked.
He didn't care where Anthony came from ("Dumbledore's recommendation, wasn't it?"), scoffed at Anthony's Azkaban past ("Sir, I'm a pub landlord... even if not in Knockturn Alley."), and even bought Anthony a Firewhisky upon hearing the charge was violating the Statute of Secrecy ("Ha, the Statute of Secrecy!").
Thanks to his smooth, experienced attitude, Anthony quickly settled into the Leaky Cauldron and pragmatically decided to treat Tom as his landlord. He couldn't go home because, according to the Ministry's requirements, he couldn't "use any magic in Muggle communities," and his cat was literally a moving mass of magic.
He'd told Tom that in a few days his employer would probably send someone with a contract, and asked Tom to keep an eye out. Tom was surprised to learn Professor Burbage would be coming, but immediately promised to call him.
"Coming!" Anthony called loudly, pushing the cat off his chest. The skeletal cat jumped onto the pillow in displeasure and shook itself.
Anthony rushed into the washroom, quickly washed his face, and straightened his clothes in the mirror.
"I'd suggest you change into more proper attire, young man." The mirror said sharply. "What are you wearing? A tablecloth?"
"Thanks for your suggestion. It's completely unhelpful." Anthony muttered, bringing the skeletal cat in to confront the mirror. The cat sat unhappily in the sink, its tail slapping the tiles with sharp cracks.
"If you break your own tail, I'm not fixing it." Anthony warned. "Good kitty, be quiet. If all goes well, I'll have a salary again to buy white wine."
The cat lay down and ignored him.
When he opened the door, he saw Professor Burbage and Tom walking upstairs, chatting and laughing.
Professor Burbage was a petite middle-aged witch in charge of all the school's Muggle Studies courses. She was pale-faced with a shallow dimple when she smiled.
She nodded as soon as she saw Anthony. "Ah, I suppose you're my future successor. You certainly look very Muggle."
That's because less than a week ago I was one, Anthony thought.
Thanks to Azkaban, which didn't even have standard prison uniforms, Anthony was still in his checkered shirt and trousers, ready to walk into any convenience store and reapply as a cashier.
Yes, he'd already resigned from Wheely Supermarket. When Dumbledore introduced him to Professor McGonagall, the stern Deputy Headmistress frowned and looked him over several times, then whispered with Dumbledore for a while before pointing out a very obvious problem: a person couldn't hold two full-time jobs simultaneously.
After enjoying afternoon tea, she dispatched him and Dumbledore to resign from the cashier position.
"You decided to hire him, Headmaster." Professor McGonagall said. "See it through."
HR was furious about his sudden resignation, but Dumbledore somehow convinced them. By the time they left, everyone seemed to think employee resignations indeed required no application. They also thought Anthony's wages were paid daily and forcibly stuffed several pounds into his hands.
Now Anthony had severed all employment relationships and become an honorable unemployed vagrant. Dumbledore had advanced him the Leaky Cauldron's room fee—this hotel on Charing Cross Road seriously told him they didn't accept pounds—and told him to consider repayment after starting work.
Professor Burbage was here today to deliver the contract. She also wanted to see her colleague, especially after hearing he'd always lived in the Muggle world and needed her to accompany him into Diagon Alley. She was even more curious about this possible successor.
"This is the standard contract. All professors have the same one. The signature line is at the end." She closed the door quite naturally, took out the contract and a quill from her handbag, then produced a letter. "And this—this is a private document."
Following her instructions, Anthony wrote beside the recipient's address: "I, Henry Anthony, confirm receipt of a sealed Hogwarts encrypted letter." The envelope slowly opened and spat out two long pieces of parchment.
The parchment specified the distribution times and application methods for his teaching allowance, research funding, and various subsidies. After Anthony signed and confirmed, he kept one copy and sent the other to the envelope's edge.
The envelope eagerly swallowed the document, smacked twice as if savoring it, and lay quietly back on the table.
The contract's first clause was quite short: "Both parties promise not to harm each other during the term of employment."
"Very broad." He said. "This has too many loopholes."
Professor Burbage shook her head seriously. "Don't underestimate magically witnessed promises. They flow through our very lives."
That did sound quite serious. Anthony became earnest and carefully read through the rest of the contract. Most of it was quite formulaic—nothing more than the rights and obligations of Hogwarts professors.
He signed in the designated place, wiped the quill tip, and prepared to return it to Professor Burbage. The contract's parchment suddenly flew up from the table, suspended in midair, and was burned to powder by a cluster of golden flames. With a clang, a brass key fell from the ashes.
Under Professor Burbage's encouraging gaze, Anthony picked it up in bewilderment. The key's front was engraved with his signature, while the back bore a crest with a faintly floating "H" at its center, surrounded by four animals.
"Hogwarts welcomes you, Professor Anthony." Professor Burbage said. "You now have an office and private quarters in the castle. Well, that's for later. Now let's go—let's see Diagon Alley!"
...
"Three bricks up, two across." Professor Burbage demonstrated. "Just tap lightly with your wand, and the core street of British wizarding society will open to you."
Anthony said thoughtfully, "First, I need to have a wand."
"You certainly do. The Headmaster told me." Professor Burbage said cheerfully. "But before that, you'd better go to Gringotts to exchange some wizarding currency. Then we'll buy clothes. You can't walk into Ollivanders dressed like this—no, everyone will stare at you. After buying clothes, we'll get a wand... oh! And textbooks! We must visit the bookshop too, of course!"
Anthony discovered she had an amazing ability to plan their itinerary in a way that was incredibly kind yet utterly non-negotiable.
He privately wondered what Dumbledore had told Professor Burbage.
Your new colleague doesn't have a wand. Take him to buy one when you deliver the contract. Oh, don't worry, he really is a wizard—Azkaban can attest to that. Ah yes, a Dark wizard, but he loves Muggles.
"Alright." He said obediently.
Professor Burbage looked quite satisfied.
They went to Gringotts. When the goblins heard Anthony didn't have an account, they seemed greatly offended and kept emphasizing the importance of saving. Anthony had to exchange more currency and deposit one Sickle into Gringotts—the minimum deposit to open a vault.
"You'll find having a private vault quite necessary." The goblin who'd handled his business said as they left.
Anthony swore he heard the goblin curse under its breath as he walked out of Gringotts, complaining that the pauper wouldn't deposit more.
Professor Burbage said matter-of-factly, "You'll get used to it, Professor Anthony. Look on the bright side—they'll guard your one Sickle with every drop of blood."
They encountered several peculiarly behaved wizards at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. They seemed to share the same impoverished vision as Ministry officials—mistaking people for statues. Except this time Professor Burbage also became a statue.
"Blood purists." Professor Burbage snorted and proudly pulled Anthony to stand behind them in line. "Stand up straight. Let them see Muggle clothing."
Anthony watched the person in front turn sideways, glance at them with disgust, then leave the queue. Professor Burbage immediately and gleefully occupied their spot.
"Who was that?" Anthony asked quietly.
"No idea." Professor Burbage said carelessly. "Some blood purist who fancies themselves nobility and despises Muggles."
"Uh, nobility?" Anthony said. "Just confirming—does the wizarding world have a special Queen... Her Majesty the Witch?"
Professor Burbage burst into delighted laughter.
"No, of course not!" She said. "And they're not nobility either. If we're being technical, Nearly Headless Nick has a more legitimate title."
Anthony summarized. "An arrogant ordinary wizard."
Professor Burbage nodded with a smile. "Exactly right. I'm increasingly convinced of the Headmaster's choice. You'll be an excellent Muggle Studies professor."
The queue moved slowly forward. By the time their turn came, Anthony was somewhat tired.
According to his requirements ("Just the basics, please."), Madam Malkin recommended a standard set of black wizard robes and matching shoes. Anthony glanced briefly at this classic style that had been the bestseller for sixteen consecutive years and nodded randomly to confirm it.
He couldn't tell the difference anyway. In short, half the shop was black robes. With pockets, with subtle patterns, with cufflinks, knee-length, ankle-length, floor-length... all kinds of black robes. Anthony looked down at his blue checkered shirt, then at the robes around him.
Seriously, who looked more like a Dark wizard?
He resisted the urge to swat away the self-measuring tape—it felt like an elongated fly—then accepted the clothes Madam Malkin handed him and changed in the fitting room.
"Changed? How well it fits! Madam Malkin's craftsmanship is always the best!" Professor Burbage said. "Now, young man, let's get you a wand."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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