The interview was scheduled for mid-morning, thankfully, so I'd have time to fit it in before work. I Apparated to Hogsmeade, then walked to Hogwarts—a longer walk than I remembered from school.

I'd never been to Hogwarts during the summer, and was a little surprised that I could just open the door and walk on in. But I was quickly baffled, again, by the moving staircases, and had to ask a tall, snooty ghost which way to the headmaster's office. I caught sight of Nearly Headless Nick out of the corner of my eye as I was walking, and then started taking the stairs two at a time—for some reason, it felt like the ghosts might recognize me.

I knocked on the door, and within moments, Professor Snape was there. "Hello," he said.

"Hello." I offered a hand to shake. "I'm Fergus Bailey, or Wood, I'm here about the flying instructor position."

"I am aware of my interviewing schedule," he glared, looking me over carefully. I tried to stay calm. Fergus had never met the Headmaster.

"So," he began, taking a seat, "why should I offer the position to someone without any qualifications whatsoever?"

This would be fun. "I'm not exactly sure what you're looking for as far as qualifications go, sir. I went to a Muggle university for a couple of years—I'm sure that that doesn't offer me any qualifications in teaching at a magical school, but it's more years of education than most British wizards have received. I can't see how seven years at Hogwarts would necessarily qualify someone for the position."

"A Muggle university?" he repeated. "I suppose you have a trans…have transcribed…"

I stood there with my face blank as he struggled to come up with whatever word he was looking for. It worked. Not wanting me to see him fluster, he carried on. "Why do you want this job?"

"Well, the chance to work at Hogwarts is an honor to anyone in magical Britain, alumnus or nae. I'd appreciate access to the library as I try to further my own education and fill in some magical gaps—not quite up to snuff on magical herblore, say. I've been told I'm a fair-minded person, and while I don't think I'm cut out for top-flight refereeing, I think this would be a good opportunity to use that skill at a different level." All true. I did want access to the library, I did want to learn more about magic, I'm not an expert on herblore (although implying I cared about the thing may have been somewhat of a misdirection on my part). I was told I was fair-minded after declining to protest defeat in a school game in which Harry Potter, my Seeker, saw Dementors and fell off his broom shortly before the opposing Seeker caught the Snitch. And I'm probably not cut out for top-flight refereeing, either.

"I see. And is there anything that would make you better than other candidates?"

Well, besides three years of playing top-flight Quidditch that hadn't happened yet…"I think you'll find, sir, that the fact that I haven't been to Hogwarts could actually make me a better candidate. I talked to some alumni, who told me that Flying lessons are usually held in two groups, combining the houses whose classical elements are opposites. That, and the Quidditch matches I'd be refereeing, makes me think that some of the students could get…short-tempered. No matter how unbiased whoever you hire will be, any alumnus will have left from some house, and even the illusion of bias that isn't really there could be bad. I really hope things get…calmer." I envied those who really could hope for anything, "But for now, maybe a total outsider would be a good influence on the Hogwarts students."

He'd been writing something down, but by the end of my talk had stopped and was just staring at me. "I…see," he said. "You did not go to Hogwarts…but have you yourself played Quidditch before?"

"Oh yes," I said. Maybe a little too eagerly. "With the Aberdeen Amateurs. I was quite into it—without getting much in the way of formal magical education, I picked up a lot from my teammates. Maybe my potion-making skill isn't exactly up to snuff," I smiled, "but I can fly."

He looked at me again, as if irritated about something. "What…position do you play?"

"C-Chaser," I decided. If I ever needed to play, I couldn't be too impressive or people'd get wise.

"What kind of Healing Spells can you perform?"

"Beyond Episkey, I'm…I'd rather entrust my students to a professional. Madam Pomfrey doesn't referee Quidditch matches, and I wouldn't want to try doing her job—presuming that Sticking Charms don't work on human flesh, I'm good at those."

Snape scribbled something down furiously. "What about defensive magic?"

"Can you really not find anyone to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" I laughed.

He did not seem to be in a joking mood.

"I mean, beyond casting Lumos and that, I have no particular training. I can Apparate away from danger, or fly quickly and long-distance when Anti-Disapparition Jinxes are in effect. I could also Side-Along Apparate." In a few months, my younger self would pick up Kwikspell Ink's Practical Legilimency for All—I don't always like relying on others, and would get a little paranoid myself. But I had never found anyone to practice on, didn't think I was that good, and hadn't tried it in a while, so figured that I shouldn't bring it up.

"Let me assure you, Mr. Wood, I am not being droll. Uncertain days lie ahead of us all." Oh, they were pretty certain on my end. "If certain…elements of society disapproved of you, you might quickly prove to be in trouble."

"Hogwarts is a safe place," I smiled. "And I essentially grew up in the Muggle world. I don't think any terrorists would want anything with me."

"You "essentially grew up in the Muggle world"? Some…reactionary Ministry elements might find that in itself reason to distrust you."

I shrugged. "I have nothing to hide."

Hah.

Conveniently, a book titled Legilimency: Minds and Myths chose that moment to catch my eye. Snape's office was covered in portraits—headmasters behind him, and people writhing in pain on either side, so I hadn't been too interested in looking around.

"Very well," he sighed. "What is the definition of blagging?"