Disclaimer: I'm just gonna write this once in the whole story. Harry Potter and all the characters portrayed in the book belong to J.K. Rowling, not me.
Prologue
It was Saturday, and breakfast time in the Great Hall. Most of the students there were eating leisurely and planning what they were going to do that day. However, there was an air of anticipation among the seventh years. Today they would receive the results of the aptitude tests they had taken the week before.
"I'm so excited!" Hermione Granger squealed to her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
"It's not that big of a deal, Hermione." Harry told her, spooning some porridge into his mouth.
"But the results will determine the job most suited for us! It will really help in planning our future careers." Hermione said.
"I'm just glad that we don't have to study next week." Ron said happily, while putting liberal amounts of jam on his toast.
"Yeah," Harry said after he swallowed his porridge. "A whole week without Snape."
"I wonder what career I'll get." Hermione said. "I really hope it's something good, after all we have to do it for Career Week next week."
"I still think it's unfair that we don't get to choose what job we want to do next week." Ron grumbled. "If I had my choice I'd go for Quidditch player."
"You and every other Quidditch obsessed seventh year." Hermione said impatiently. "That's exactly the reason why we don't get to choose."
"I hope I get 'Auror' in my results." Harry said. "What about you, Hermione?"
"I don't know, I can't possibly decide what career is right for me. Whatever job I'm getting is fine with me." Hermione said decisively.
"Not if you end up getting 'Cleaning Lady' as the career most suited for you." Ron commented.
Hermione stiffened in her seat. "I'll have you know, Ron, that sanitation management is one of the most important things in all institutions." She said.
"Call it whatever you like, 'Mione. It still includes cleaning toilets." Ron said, snorting as a mental image of Hermione scrubbing a toilet entered his mind.
Hermione glared at him but couldn't think of anything to say. The trio spent the rest of their breakfast in silence, as Hermione was refusing to talk to Ron.
Harry welcomed the stop in conversation and spent some time imagining himself as an Auror in Career Week. He would impress all the real Aurors with his skills and they would assure Harry that his future as an Auror was set.
Harry was still daydreaming as the seventh years headed back to their common rooms to receive their test results from their Head of House.
"All right, everyone. I have here," Professor McGonagall said loudly, waving a stack of envelopes in her hand, "the results of your wizard aptitude tests. Remember that whatever results you receive, whether you like it or not, will determine what job you will be doing on Career Week."
She started passing out the envelopes to the Gryffindor seventh years.
"Also remember," she said, "that you will be under the tutelage of professionals who will be grading you on your performance. It is a big part of your grade so I expect that all of you will work very hard next week."
Harry got his envelope and opened it quickly. Beside him, Ron and Hermione did the same.
"I'm a healer!" Hermione shrieked happily.
"A candy maker?!" Ron said incredulously as he stared at his letter.
"A Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?!" Harry cried disbelievingly. He wondered if he got the wrong results. He was supposed to be an Auror! Someone who actually uses defensive spells, not one who teaches them!
"Oooh, my mentor is Healer Augustus Pye." Hermione said, scanning her letter.
"Isn't that the crazy bloke who gave my dad stitches?" Ron said.
"Yes. But just because he's interested in Muggle medicine doesn't mean he's crazy!" Hermione said indignantly.
Ron didn't answer her but looked at his letter.
"Hey! I get to work at Honeydukes!" Ron said excitedly, his eyes shining. "Do you reckon I'll get free tons of free samples?" he asked Harry.
"I'm staying here at Hogwarts!" Harry said as he read his letter, his eyes widening. "I'm under Professor Stalk."
Harry was starting to feel sick. Professor Stalk was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was a short man who had bad breath and body odor. Harry shuddered. How was he supposed to work in close proximity with the man?
Both Ron and Hermione were wearing disgusted looks.
"Professor Stalk?! Bad luck, mate." Ron said to Harry, patting his shoulder.
"Oh, Harry, that's terrible! I still can't believe the school would hire such a nauseating teacher." Hermione said, wrinkling her nose.
"Do you think he'll notice if I use the Bubble Head Charm every time he's around?" Harry said sullenly.
"I bet it won't be that bad." Hermione said sympathetically.
"Well, I'll find out soon enough, won't I?" Harry said, dreading the coming week.
Down in the Slytherin common room, the aptitude tests results were also being passed.
Draco Malfoy opened his envelope lazily.
"I suppose I'll get Minister of Magic…" he drawled.
Crabbe and Goyle had already opened theirs and they were both security wizards. I job that Draco felt was made for them. Just like being the Minister of Magic was so obviously his calling.
His eyes fell on the letter and widened.
"I'm a dragon handler?!" he spat. He continued to read the letter and was even more horrified.
"I'm supposed to be under a Weasley?!" he cried. "No way am I taking orders from a Weasley." He said and stomped toward Professor Snape.
"Professor, I cannot work for Charlie Weasley." He told his Head of House resentfully.
"I wasn't expecting you, Mr. Malfoy, of all people, to whine about their career assignment. I would expect that from Gryffindors, not Slytherins." Snape said unpleasantly.
Draco's insides bristled with anger but he didn't show it. For the first time ever, he had a strong urge to hex Snape. But he just walked away, cursing under his breath.
A/N: I don't know how often I'll be able to update, what with school and everything. The next chapters will document Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco's experiences in Career Week. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!