Oh, good. Onto the part of the interview where I could really do well.

"Grabbing an opponent's broomstick with intent to hinder," I rattled off.

"Haversacking?"

"Remaining in contact with the Quaffle when it passes through the hoop."

"Flacking?"

"Keeper sticking their body through a goalpost from behind."

"Casting?"

Casting? "If this is a foul, it's not one of the more common ones."

He almost seemed to smile. "Were the other examples fouls?"

"Yes."

"And they are punishable by?"

"Penalty shots."

"Which fouls are not punishable by penalty shots?"

By then I was learning to think before I spoke. "I don't know. There's a whole long list of fouls that aren't public knowledge. All the ones I know of are punishable by penalty shots, though."

"Do you have a broom with you?"

"No. Loaned it out."

"Come with me."

I followed him out of the room, half-conscious of fingering my wand under my robes. It turned out I had nothing to worry about—we were just going down to the Quidditch pitch. He nodded at me to get a school broom, so I grabbed a Cleansweep.

"I will release these balls one by one," he said, nodding at a small crate. "Find, and capture them, in the order that I release them, and then bring them back here."

He tossed them into the air—blue, orange, black, white, red, purple, darker blue. Blue, orange, black, white, p—no, red, purple, dark blue. I stood there a moment, ignoring his glare as I memorized the order, then shot off.

It was a good thing I hadn't claimed to be a Seeker. More than once I silently hissed as the wrong ball entirely flew past. They were larger than normal Snitches, and moved much more slowly, but even still it took a while to return them in the precise order.

"Good," he said. "Again."

White, red, dark blue, light blue, purple, orange, black. I was a little faster that time, and retrieved them again.

"This isn't meant to be a test of my Summoning Charm ability, is it?" I teased.

"No. Again."

Orange, black, red, light blue, purple, dark blue, white. Red, white, light blue, dark blue, purple, orange, black. Or was it black, orange? The black one was hovering right there, at arm's length—no, I thought, too disappointing if I took the easy way out and it was long. I veered away and eventually retrieved the orange one, then had to double back and get the black.

I was very lucky. But I was right.

We kept at it for what I think was an hour exactly, as he whistled me out of the air with two to go on the last one.

"How does your neck feel?" he asked.

"Okay," I said. This was an exaggeration, but I'd played through much worse.

"You fly, and memorize, well," he said. "Pity we have no students here to test you on."

I shrugged. "Thank you, sir."

"That will be all."

I walked back to Hogsmeade—this time, the walk seemed shorter. And then I treated myself to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before going to work.

Okay, so maybe the frugality thing wasn't going to pan out.

Somehow, I stretched out my salary during the rest of that week. I mean, I didn't stretch it very well, but I didn't know that at the time. Didn't buy any books, but I'd gotten so used to the luxury of sleeping in a proper bed without trying to muster up some unconscious paranoia that I kept splurging at the Leaky.

Any other person would say something about "getting used to sleeping in my own bed" when describing situations like these. I'm probably one of the only people for whom sleeping in one's own bed was a serious risk. Have I mentioned I really wasn't fond of the whole "time travel" thing?

At last, on Friday, another owl came.

I actually had a line of customers to deal with at that point, so I had the owl flit around while I continued making change for copies of Practical Divination for the Discerning Witch: How to Learn and Prepare for What Fate has in Store. I resisted offering my own commentary.

At last, I ripped it open. "Stay here," I told the owl before looking at the letter. "If I have to write back..."

Dear Mr. Wood,

On behalf of the Governors, I extend an offer of employment effective...

I told myself to keep from whooping, but my body had not begun to do so. I skimmed through the rest of it—nothing too important.

I scribbled back something appreciative, asking how quickly I could move in. The Hogwarts owls at least stayed put and let me write back. We made arrangements by post, and I decided I could stick it out at the Leaky until the end of the pay period the next week. Just so I could pick up my pay.

My boss didn't seem particularly sorry to see me go. But despite how much time I spent adding up other people's Knuts, I was losing track of my own. Given how much I had already shelled out for robes, and the tab at the Leaky Cauldron I was racking up, I couldn't pay back both that and the St. Mungo's bill before I left. And the Hogwarts salary, at least for someone who was getting room and board, only teaching part-time, didn't require reimbursement for expenses, was pretty...modest.

It would have only taken me a couple months to make up the total. But I didn't want a couple of months. I didn't like being in debt, and I hoped I could get out before a couple of months. Back to my time. Back to my life.

Which left me, and the few remaining Sickles from Flourish and Blotts, with only one option.

Back to a day I really didn't ever want to revisit.