93 Diagon Alley
Disclaimer: It all belongs to JK Rowling.
Note: I'd like to express my extreme gratitude to my beta, Tarhisie. She r0x0rs my s0x0rs.
Any comments are appreciated
Diagon Alley had always been a busy place. There was a store for everyone. If a witch or wizard needed anything, from potion supplies to an ice cream sundae, it could be found at Diagon Alley. And now with the addition of the quickly growing Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, one never saw a shortage of people, if it was a nice day. Foul weather usually kept many shoppers from going to Diagon Alley, and a dreary Thursday in early May was no exception. The day had started cloudy and it began raining late morning. The afternoon was turning dark as the downpour continued. The street outside was empty, only punctuated by the occasional weary shopper, running from one shop to the next using an old copy of The Daily Prophet as a makeshift umbrella, or wearing a hat to protect from the rain. The only light came from the few still-open stores, pouring from display windows or quickly flashing as a door opened and shut, but one shop exploded with light. Flashing signs hung above the windows and door, and the inside screamed with bright flames and neon colors. One sign was plastered on the door:
Tired of your dull 9-5 desk job?
Or, maybe you need a shock of excitement
In your life.
If so, why not work at
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?
Apply for this fast-paced and
Thrilling job today!
Inquire Within
Unfortunately for Fred and George Weasley, the day had neither been fast-paced or thrilling. The identical twin brothers were stuck re-stocking their newly added Defense Against the Dark Arts section behind a curtain.
"Maybe we should close early tonight. We haven't had a customer for hours," Fred voiced as he opened a box of Instant Darkness Powder and started putting the small pouches of it on the shelf.
"But, it's only half four. I'm sure we'll get a few customers once tea's over," George replied over the massive piles of shield clothing he was sorting. Fred nodded in agreement and turned back to the powder.
For the few months the shop had been open, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' business was booming. Fred and George had become the biggest names in joking and pranks, even bigger that Zonko's. Their shop was the hot spot for all the London wizarding children and teenagers. The mail-order service helped customers stay up to date all across Britain. Because of their success, the twins were starting to branch into other markets, like Muggle novelty tricks and their new DADA section.
Even so, Fred and George were starting to notice some drawbacks. The store was becoming more and more crowded; there would always be a queue of customers waiting to be helped. After closing for the day, they'd spend hours cleaning and stocking, and then they'd have to do a lot of business-related paperwork. On bad nights, they wouldn't get to bed until well after midnight.
After a couple weeks of this, they realized the inevitable: the twins needed some hired help. The next day, Fred hung his version of a 'Help Wanted' sign on the door before opening shop. He and George decided to take applications for a fortnight before starting the interviewing process. But, it had only been a few days later, and they had already received almost 50 filled applications. George thought of then stopping at 100 applications, which wasn't taking very long. At the moment, they were at ninety-five, only six days after putting up their notice.
At five o'clock, a bell rang through the shop, signaling that someone had walked through the door. Both George and Fred looked up and after hearing a faint "Hello?" Fred called, "It's your turn brother."
George sighed, dropped his armful of shield hats and walked through the curtain. "Welcome to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes! I'm George Weasley, how can I help you?" he exclaimed as he walked behind the counter and faced his customer.
She was a barely tall, sopping wet witch, about nineteen or twenty years old. Her chin length hair stuck to her head and her bangs were dripping over her eyes, but she had a nice smile on her face nonetheless.
"Hi, I just saw your sign, the one for your open job, and I'm inquiring within."
"Right. Well, here's an application," George said, grabbing a roll of parchment from under the countertop and handing it to her. "Fill it out, and you can return it by owl. But, we've almost reached our deadline, so try and be quick if you want the job."
"All right," the witch replied, taking the parchment. "Oops…"
George looked down and saw what the "oops" was about. Her wet clothes had dripped all over the counter, getting papers and small merchandise soaked. Looking behind her, George also saw she had left a trail of water from the door.
"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry!" she groaned, turning from her newly created stream in the middle of the shop.
"Oh, no trouble. Here-" George quickly pulled out his wand and performed several drought charms on the floor, counter and finally, her. The witch's hair instantly dried and curled slightly under her ears. It also brightened to a sunshiny blonde. Her robes stopped dripping, and fitted better on her body. She looked startled, but smiled gratefully.
"Cheers," she said, finally taking her dry application and putting it in her bag, "I guess I should've thought of that, but I didn't really notice. I've been out all day." George noted her soft London accent and a badge haphazardly stitched on her bag.
"Puddlemere Untied, eh?" George asked, with a smirk.
"Oh- Yeah," the witch said, looking at her badge. "Does this mean I won't be getting the job, then?" she asked, a smile gracing her face.
"Oh, no. We're an equal opportunity employer. We don't discriminate against… handicaps," George answered, still smirking and glancing at her bag. The young woman laughed.
"I beg your pardon! Well then, what team do you support?"
"Chudley Cannons," George stated, proudly.
"And you think I'm handicapped? At least I support a team that actually wins once in a while." George mocked offence, but then smiled. He was about to retort, when a surprised yell and cursed oath floated through the curtain.
"What's going on?" asked the witch, looking worriedly at where the sound came from.
George sighed, "That'll be my dear brother, Fred. We've been having some trouble with a new product. I better go see what the damage is. Poor dear, he never seems to manage without me." Thinking of his brother, George chuckled, shaking his head. The witch took this as her time to leave.
"Well, good luck then. Expect an owl with my application tomorrow," she said, walking toward the door. George waved, thanked her for stopping by, and watched her walk out the door. She looked right, and then ran in the other direction, into the continuing rain.
"Who was that?" asked Fred, his head poking out between the curtains in the doorway to the DADA room.
"Just some witch. She wanted an application. What was going on back there?" Fred stepped back, and held the curtains for his brother to walk into the room.
"I dropped a bunch of those new Decoy Detonators, and they started running everywhere. Don't worry, I stunned them and got them back on the shelf."
The next day was still overcast, but the rain had stopped. The muted sunlight gave off no warmth and a chilly breeze swept through the city.
The shop was quiet as the twins set up for the usual after-lunch crowd. It had been fairly busy in the morning, but Fred and George were expecting a steady onslaught once lunch would be over, until closing. As George refilled the Skiving Snackboxes, he heard the familiar jingle from the door. He was surprised to see the same witch from the other day.
"Hello again. It seems you made a mistake yesterday." She said, reaching for something in her bag. She pulled out the parchment George had given to her and handed it to him. He looked at her quizzically before unrolling it. Once he saw what the problem was, he laughed.
George had not given her an application last night, but an inventory scroll. "I do apologize. I'll get you a real application," he said, motioning for her to follow him as he walked to the counter. Looking below, he found where the application scrolls were (in very close proximity to the inventory ones), and grabbed one. Before giving it to her, he read to make sure it really was what it was supposed to be.
"All right, here you are. It's an application, I double checked." George smiled as the witch took it. She looked at him for a moment before she spoke.
"That's an interesting shade of magenta you chose." She said, pointing to his staff robes. With a small smile she added, "They clash marvelously with your ginger hair. I love it."
"Thank you," George responded, though it sounded more like a question. "Hopefully, they won't clash so much with your hair… If you get the job, that is." He smiled awkwardly at the witch, and if George wasn't mistaken, he might've seen a slight blush appear on her cheeks.
"Hopefully," she replied simply as she walked out the door.
An hour later, Fred was startled when a Little Owl flew from an open window onto his desk. Taking the roll tied to its leg, he handed the small bird an owl treat. After opening the parchment, he quickly scanned it and threw it in the pile with the other 99 applications. The owl finished the treat, and then flew out the window.