Author's note: I have only read the first three books, so please keep that in mind. I don't know anything about how Harry Potter will end.

Harry Potter had a difficult time at his wizarding school, Hogwarts. The first year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had a dark wizarding lord on the back of his head. In addition to being gross and unsanitary, the dark wizard had tried to kill Harry! The second-year he attended a man came out of a diary and framed his friend for using a giant snake to kill school girls and a cat. I mean c'mon, what kind of man has a diary?! Harry thought, and then chided himself for his toxic masculinity.

This last year, hooded creatures were placed all along the castle, and they were after Harry's soul. He had to fight off dozens of them, and could only do so through an (illegally obtained?) time travel device. Additionally, he had a werewolf as a professor. Needless to say, Harry had decided he should not go back. He valued his life.

Sometimes Harry felt so hangry (that's hungry and angry as one emotion) he could just split his soul into two pieces, or even maybe seven pieces. Maybe he would even put them into sacred objects like a locket or something gay like that. Harry thought "gay" at first, but then he thought about Hilary Duff or Wanda Skyes coming up to him and chastising him for using gay as a pejorative. Then he corrected himself and thought "homosexual" so that Wanda Skyes would still like him. He didn't care about Hilary Duff.

When the train let Harry off, his uncle, a beefy man named Vernon who was obsessed with drills, picked him up. Harry had a long time to think while driving back to his uncle's home. As Harry walked up the stoop of the Privet Drive home, he decided he would get any part-time job he could and start his life then and there. He would get his GED or whatever the British equivalent of that would be, and if he could find someone who would sell him one, he would get a fake ID. He figured he could get a better job with one of those.

The next day he walked to the center of town and asked every restaurant if they needed help. None said yes, not even the McDonalds, or the chinese restaurant, or even the Jamba Juice. Harry had secretly been betting everything on the Jamba Juice, I mean who would want to work there? So he walked further out, close to a Catholic church he had never seen before. It was an exhausting walk- he figured it would be at least a 25 minute walk back to the Dursleys'. But there was a single restaurant out here, one that he hadn't seen before- the Fish Fry. Harry thought to himself, Fish… Fry? What could that mean?

He walked into the small building. It smelled like fish, which Harry did not like. Harry preferred chicken, and sometimes beef, but he would not eat lamb. The man at the register had Harry searching his mind for polite synonyms of fat - he eventually came up with rubenesque, a word he had heard Hermione use to describe Millicent Bulstrode. The man had bright red hair, freckles, and a wide smile and greeted Harry warmly. The man had a wide smile and greeted Harry warmly.

"What can I get for you?" Harry stared up at the menu. Cat...fish? Now, biology was never covered in Hogwarts, but Harry knew that a cat was not a fish. But he also knew from the Dursleys that Muggle-folk don't like to be questioned.

"Hello sir, my name is Harry Potter, and I am looking for a summer job. I'll do anything! I'll wash tables! I'll wait tables! I can chop trees down! I can turn a needle into a grasshopper! I can do your taxes!" Harry knew he was lying about the last one- but he also knew that taxes were due on April the 15th, and if a business had not done their taxes by now, they were probably a business Harry ought not to work for.

The man stared down at Harry quizzically. "Now, you're just a boy! I can't go giving all my good accounting jobs to just boys- why now, do you even have your CPA?" Harry had no idea what an accountant or a CPA was. But he tried to put on an unphased look and not think about how CPAs were an American certification program, not a British one.

"Why, no sir, but with proper training I'm sure I could get any license I would need, including my CPA, or my COMPTIA+, or my PACP (Pipeline Assessment Certification Program)"

The man laughed. Harry found himself laughing at the pot bellied man. His nametag read Oscar. Harry thought for a second, what if this name tag was a lie, and the man was actually named Ron or Ronald, or D-Ronald? And then Harry thought, no, that would be silly.

"Well boy, I don't need ya to do my taxes, but I could use a dishwasher. It just pays the minimum wage of 3 dollars an hour. What do you say to that?"

Harry beamed up at him. "Yes sir!" Harry vowed to himself that he would be the best dishwasher this Fish Fry had ever seen.

Authors Note: Yes, I did google what the minimum wage in Britain was in the 90's. That's accurate.

Author's note number two: Don't be a terf.