Chapter 1: The Interview

Minerva McGonagall was sitting in a large wing-backed chair in the Headmistress' office, the ruby-red sun hung low in the evening sky. It had been a long day. They were searching for a replacement for long-service Potions teacher, Professor Slughorn, who had retired a few months previously. The job interviews had so far proved fruitless. One candidate had managed to set his beard alight while trying to demonstrate how to brew a Draught of Living Death potion, while another had completely melted Professor McGonagall's desk after accidentally vanishing his cauldron and allow his molten potion to spill out. None of the other interviewees had been much more impressive.

Minerva breathed a deep sigh, shuffling papers and applications. She had all but given up hope of finding a talented applicant. Fact of the matter was it was almost impossible to replace the previous incumbents: Professors Slughorn and Snape – the former for his professionalism and attention to detail and the latter for his sheer, outstanding talent. For all his foibles, Snape was the greatest potions master to teach in those dungeons, and realistically no-one was going to be able to match his calibre.

There was still one more applicant to see before the day's end. The beautiful August day was beginning to settle and it was nearing sunset. Minerva sat back and soaked in the ambience of what had been Albus Dumbledore's office under his Hogwarts tenure. There were still many of his treasured possessions adorning the room; the cupboard that contained the pensieve sat in the far corner, tables full of delicate, silver instruments sat in front of bookcases presenting books on every single topic imaginable. The room was airy and light and spacious and, to know it belonged to the greatest wizard to have ever lived, filled Minerva with a great sense of pride. Minerva still missed Dumbledore. She often stood in front of his portrait conversing with the sage, seeking advice and guidance. His portrait was one of many that lined the walls.

A rapt knock sounded on the door, stirring Minerva out of her temporary stupor.

"Enter", called McGonagall, rising to her feet.

In stepped a man in a black pork pie hat. He looked early fifties. His face was very wrinkled and he wore spectacles that sat on the end of a nose that looked as though it had been broken in the past. He was rather Muggle dressed for the occasion, a well-pressed black suit. Despite his rather meagre frame, the man had an air of supreme confidence, as though this office was exactly where he felt at home. His eyes swept the scene before him, absorbing it like a scanner.

Minerva offered him the chair opposite hers, which he took with a grateful "thanks". He removed his hat and placed it on his lap, his fingers placed on top of it, waiting in patient expectation for the professor to speak first. Minerva could tell this man was professional and dignified, as she quickly unfurled his resume from under a stack of others.

"So, Mr Lambert, I presume?", she said, while examining the long sheath of paper that sat in front her.

"That is correct. Walter Lambert. But you can call me Walt", the man replied. His voice was hoarse but authoritative, confirming that he had been a teacher before. "Formerly of New Mexico, in the United States", he added.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that a long way to travel just for a job interview? What made you leave?"

"I had some … let's say trying times with the people that I called my employers. Things turned sour and before I knew it I had lost most of what kept me there. So I decided I needed a change. And there could no more of a change than here", explained Walt

"So you know what Hogwarts is and what we do here?. How did you find out about us, being from a ahh normal background?"

"I was just walking down a busy London street, looking for work incidentally. But it's hard to find work for a 53 year old who's recently left a job he's done almost all of his life. Teaching is in my blood. I can be nothing else. I had a few interviews for various colleges but they were all of such a mediocre standard that I really did not want to put my faith in, what we might call, the 'standard' school system". Walt's eyes suddenly showed cold and disdain, as though those educators had failed him personally

"So I went for a drink in a pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron'", he continued. "My kind of place. Completely empty despite the whole of the street outside bustling. Whilst in there I struck up conversation with the barman, Tom. A kind of stooping man. He kept asking me I was a "muggle". When I pressed him he said that meant someone from a non-magic background. He knew he had said too much already. I coaxed him into explaining more and he told me all about that there were witches and wizards living alongside us in a secretive lifestyle. I was intrigued, but obviously thought he was raving mad. I made to leave but he was set on convincing me now so he bayed me to follow him. He took me to a small back room and tapped on a few bricks with a stick which melted the entire wall away. I couldn't believe my eyes"

Walt shifted uneasily in his seat. It was clear the thought of magical beings scared him. It was not a gesture that was missed by McGonagall. She eyed him with polite interest.

"So what experience and qualities would you bring to the role, Mr Lambert?", McGonagall enquired. "You say you recently left a job you had done almost all of your life, what was it?".

"Many years ago I was involved in a company very high profile within the industry. I left for personal reasons. After that I became a teacher in Chemistry at the local secondary where I used to live. I taught mainly 15-16 year olds. The job mostly consisted of trying to spark the kids' interest in science. I considered myself much too qualified for a job of that level. I'm looking for another challenge", a note of pride quivered through Walt's words.

"But, Mr Lambert, this role on offer is nothing to do with science. It is potions. It may share some of the same traits as the chemistry that you're used to but potions is very subtle. They take a lot of care and nurturing. It is a job that requires a lot of patience and one that has rendered even the most stable mind unbalanced", explained Professor McGonagall.

"I can do things with chemicals I highly doubt you've ever seen before, Professor. In my business I was extremely talented and I would be happy to demonstrate that for you"

Minerva stood up and swept to a large cabinet standing behind her desk. From there she withdrew vials and silver instruments. She took down a dusty, leather-bound book and placed it delicately on the desk in front of her. Quickly drawing her wand from her robes, she produced a large elaborate flick, conjuring a large cauldron from thin air which shimmered and took form in front of Walt's very eyes. She then retook her place in her chair and eyed Walt as though waiting for him to ask what had just happened

"So, you say you would be willing to demonstrate your talents", McGonagall began. "I want you to brew me" - She flicked her wand and the recipe book found its correct page - "a Draught of Living Death potion. It's incredibly tricky and requires meticulous, precise work. Get it seriously wrong and you could end up putting into a coma whoever takes it. Since you're from a non-magic background, and these are extenuating circumstances, I'm not expecting perfection but this is the task for me to see if you are right for the job"

Minvera pushed the book over to Walt to examine. His face was inscrutable as he perused the pages. Minutes went by where he did nothing but read the instructions, turning pages like he was analysing delicate artefacts. He paid no attention whatsoever to the potion-making kits that he had no idea about. Finally he looked up with a satisfied look on his face.

"Let's get to it then", said Walt. The desire to prove himself was palpable in his voice.

McGonagall stepped back and allowed Walt to get to work. He began by lighting a fire under his cauldron. He separated the ingredients McGonagall gave to him according to the book and began cutting them up in the appropriate manner. His work was methodical and he took great care with every step. He seemed to be enjoying himself and McGonagall could tell he was someone who spent a lot of time working in a lab.

For almost two hours Walt worked before extinguishing the fire under his cauldron. He stepped back from the fumes. His face showed no sign of exertion or indeed any effort at all. McGonagall stepped forward to examine the finished potion. The sheen on the top of the cauldron was almost identical to the one described in the book. It was almost perfect in every way. McGonagall barely hid her astonishment. A man with absolutely no magical knowledge or training had produced a potion only bettered by the utmost masters of the art. She looked at Walt and she knew her face had given away that he had been successful.

"This … truly is brilliant, Mr Lambert", she was trying hard to find the words to justify how shocked she was without being impolite. "This is the work of someone who has been brewing for years. I could never have expected this. I would be happy to offer you the role based on what I have seen today".

Walt stepped forward and a broad smile filled his face as he extended his hand. She took it.

"I look forward to hearing from you, Professor McGonagall", said Walt, placing his hat back on his head.

"Please, call me Minerva", said McGonall, smiling too.

With that Walt descended the staircase. Minerva once again took the Head's chair. She turned to the portrait just to her left and said "Well, what did you think?"

"He was good", said the portrait of Severus Snape. "But it was nothing on mine".