The Interview

'Please take a seat Professor. Now, why are you interested in being in this fanfic?' The interviewer peered at him over her glasses, reminding him uncomfortably of Minerva McGonagall. He cleared his throat before replying.

'Well, firstly I've obviously been killed off in cannon, so there's not much doing in that field. Also I thought your plot line sounded very interesting. I've never had much chance to research Lycanthropy – it is a field that could be quite interesting.'

'Quite, Professor.' She really did remind him of Minerva, although without the horrible tartan she had been so fond of.

'Your CV is very impressive, and I believe you have worked with Mr Lupin before. Could you tell me about that please?'

'Certainly. I am routinely linked with every character in cannon. I don't particularly enjoy working with Remus when he is in full wolf mode, you understand, but other than that we get on tolerably. I'm sure you're aware that we've had our differences in the past, but we've been made to fall in love so often that I'm beginning to be able to tolerate him. For fairly short chapters, at least.' He smirked, remembering what had happened the last time an author had tried to make him spend more than 10,000 words with Lupin. That ridiculous website had been down for three days while they sorted out the damage.

'Hmmm. Interesting. Now, what do you think you could bring to this story?'

'Well…I'm very sexy of course, so you'll get a lot of readers for anything I'm involved with. I'm also capable of being incredibly snarky, and to be honest, quite a bastard. Many authors find that side of my personality quite invigorating, especially when Potter is released into the mix. Finally, I'm the hero of the series, especially after I died to serve the cause. Much nobler than Albus, sexier than Weasley, cleverer than Granger, and more in control than Potter, not that any of these things is particularly difficult to do, but there you go. Did you know an American academic recently stated to the press that she considered me to be the ultimate hero of the series? I have the clipping here if you wish to see it.' He slid the article across the table, where it was briefly glanced at before being handed back.

'Really? How very interesting. Now, Professor, finally, do you have any questions for me?'

'Actually I do.' He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, 'Do you intend for this story to have a Mary-Sue in it? I will NOT tolerate any more damn American exchange students. Neither will I have sex with a current student, and under no circumstances will I have a relationship with a senior member of the faculty. Especially not that fraud Trelawny. Although if Hooch wasn't a lesbian… But I digress. Mary Sues?' He looked up expectantly at the face opposite.

'I can't guarantee their absence, Professor, as the bunnies are very unpredictable. However, I think it highly unlikely that any story of mine would contain an American exchange student, so you may rest easy on that point. I do not require you to form any sexual relationships at all, so you needn't worry about that either. In fact, there is just one more question I need to ask – are you still a firm candidate for this position?'

'Yes, I think so.' Nothing else to do with my days that doesn't involve very wrong sexual acts with minors. Or with Albus. He couldn't quite repress the shiver of disgust that ran through him at this thought.

'Well, then, congratulations, Professor, I'd be delighted to offer you a place in my narrative. We'll be starting next week, and there will be twelve chapters.' She beamed at him, proffering the contract for him to sign. He hastily scribbled his signature and the contract disappeared, to be filed in the ministry's archive, no doubt.

'By the way, what is this story called?' he asked, although there was little he could do about it now.

'Well I thought 'Dancing with Wolves' was rather interesting, particularly as the cure for lycanthropy will turn out to be doing ballet. In lycra tutus. Together.'

'I really must learn to read the small print,' he groaned, head in hands.