official site: http/ had been the middle of July when Zero Finnigan received the most peculiar letter of his life. Of course, when he received it at first, he did not realize it's importance in changing both traditions across the ocean from him and the course of his own life. This particular morning, Zero awoke from a deep sleep feeling slightly dazed - leftovers of the previous evening. Zero Finnigan, you see, was not your typical wizard; even for an american wizard. Although he was a prominent character in american wizardry and member of the Salem Witches Institute, he did not exactly cut a figure of gentlemanly dignity. His small apartment (or "flat", as his new colleagues would probably call it) was littered with empty bottles of Skyy vodka and old wrappers of mini-donuts and doritos. It bore the signs of heavy partying and smelled strongly of marijuana. Zero himself stumbled through the garbage and sleeping bodies of his friends and colleagues to reach the door. As he opened it and the sunshine covered his face, he squinted and pruned his face, biting back the brightness with disgust.
He opened his rusty mailbox blindly, groping inside for the contents. As he retreated back into the apartment with his small pile of mail and flashing lights going off in his eyes, he struggled to see which were bills and what was not. The first two letters immediately went into the garbage can, as one of the ladies sleeping on the floor snorted in her sleep. He examined the third carefully, and pocketed it. The fourth distracted him just the same... both were envelopes made of a slightly off-white parchment and were written on with shiny green ink. He pocketed this one as well. The last three consisted of two bills and an ad, all of which went into the trash. He turned resolutely, the feeling of control finally returning to his body, and made his way stealthily to his room, where he could examine these curious letters. Both were sent from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and both were addressed from the "Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall". A small shock struck the nerves around his spine and he cracked his neck nervously. He unfolded the letter and began to read with a sober expression.
Mr. Zero Finnigan,
In light of the tragic recent events, Hogwarts is in need of more staff. Since the great professor Dumbledore passed away, we have deliberated on whetehr or not to remain open at all, however, it has been decided that Hogwarts must remain available to students who wish to learn. Therefore, we as teachers are formally permitted to place our own protections on the school and the ministry itself will be tightening it's security measures for the school even more highly than those of the Ministry of Magic itself. In this time of need, and with the "curse" rumor spreading about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, it has been especially difficult to locate willing staff. We have found it necessary to hire a new Transfiguration professor to replace me as well, with my promotion to Headmistress. This position has been filled by Remus Lupin already, but because of this ridiculous "curse" rumor, it has been nearly impossible to find any willing and able witch or wizard to take up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It is therefore my priveledge to invite you to teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If you decide to take the position, I must recommend that you clean up first.
Minerva McGonagall
Zero read the letter through twice, only skimming to "the good part" the second time. He grunted and rubbed his eyes tenderly. "Always like Revus. er, Remus." He picked up the second letter and opened it. Again, McGonagall's handwriting met him.
Mr. Zero Finnigan,
Overseas apparition being risky with ministry precautions, you will need to use a Portkey that we have set up with the Salem Witches Institute. Speak to Mortimer Montague, he has it in his office. It will be active tomorrow at 6:00 p.m. local time.
Thank you for helping us out,
Minerva McGonagall
Zero's eyes widened at the last part, and he chuckled quietly. "So she thinks I'll accept so easily," he muttered. Well I have, haven't I? he thought. His expression bleary, he began to look around his room. "What should I bring..." he muttered to himself. His eyes roamed over a bucket of chocolates, several lined up bottles that had been emptied of vodka, his broomstick (a Midnight Special, one of the best american brooms available), and a CD player that was playing Bizarre Love Triangle, by New Order. He leaned back and contemplated.
Theres no sense in telling me,
The wisdom of the fool won't set you free
But that's the way that it goes and it's what nobody knows,
Where everyday my confusion grows.
The music coming out of his CD player was drowning out his thoughts. There was a certain comfort in that, and he resolved to take it with him. That and the broomstick, of course.