A/N: Hi there. Obviously, this is sort of AU, as I wrote this before Half-Blood Prince came out. Enjoy.
Chapter One
It was about a year after I graduated from High School that I moved to London. Well, I didn't exactly move into London. I was staying at an Inn called the Leaky Cauldron, and meanwhile working in a dreary little potions shop suspiciously close to Knockturn Alley, which I had early on been told to stay away from. Please, I thought. I was a witch in Seattle, Washington back in the states. If there were ever a dodgy place it would be Seattle.
Anyway, I was only planning on working there maybe six months, until I saved up enough money to live elsewhere.
My plans for the longevity of my career came into serious jeopardy, however, when I met a man that made me think I perhaps wasn't suited for customer service, in the magical world or anywhere else.
It had been my job to open that morning, and opening in the morning means coming in at about two A.M., as this makes it convenient for more clientele than one would think.
As I raised the shutter on the door, a looming figure came into view through the dirty glass. My eyes followed the shutter on its ascent as the figure materialised itself. He was dressed awkwardly in Muggle outfitting, with a black tee shirt, faded denim pants, black boots, and a black, acid-washed denim jacket. His dirty-looking hair was pulled into a low ponytail and he was sprouting the first degrees of a goatee. His skin was an unpleasant, jaundiced colour and his sheenless eyes peered at me grumpily from around an enormous, behooked nose.
I started, catching his glare full-force. I could feel my paper-white skin flush, which is always an unpleasant effect as it becomes blotches on my cheeks, forehead, and nose. The only upside is it makes my otherwise algae-coloured eyes flash emerald green.
At any rate, I quickly flipped the "open" sign over and unlocked the door with my wand and a special charm only employees know. I had barely stepped back from the door when the man brushed in past me, nearly knocking me over.
"It's about ruddy time you opened. I've been waiting for an hour"
He was headed toward the back section, where stood a large, locked display case with dangerous and rare potions ingredients. I hadn't been there an hour, but I bit my tongue and remembered, 'the customer is always right.
I walked toward the back, resisting the urge to pull my black cloak around myself defensively. I didn't normally wear such a large cloak, but our uniforms consisted of a black cloak, a black bustier, black pants, and big black boots. I felt a bit like a medieval whore, but the owner (a man) found the outfits to draw in customers. It was the advantage we had over our counterparts in better parts of London.
I reached the man, who nearly had his greasy nose pressed right to the glass.
"May I help you find anything?" I asked, politely. I pushed my horn-rim glasses up my nose.
"An American." He muttered. "No wonder you have no concept of time"
That pissed me off, but I chuckled good-naturedly. "Just let me know if you need anything"
He turned his head slowly, very slowly, his eyes grazing over my entirety. "If you are trying to sell anything with your looseness, it won't work"
I felt my face blotch up again and pushed my white-blonde hair over my shoulder, biting my tongue enough to taste blood.
"These...happen to be mandatory uniforms." I managed out, evenly. "I didn't ask for them"
"Then you shouldn't be working here, you dumb bint." He muttered, again looking into the glass, scanning.
I gritted my teeth, my lip curling, but forced it back down. I placed my right hand very heavily onto the glass beside the man's head, sure I was going to break it. The glass I mean. Perhaps his head.
"Are you...quite sure I can't help...you...with...anything?" I squeaked out, my other hand clenching into a fist. The man again turned to look at me, turning his whole body to face me. He wore a rude, mirthless smirk, and said, "Well, I never said that did I"
I straightened up and felt my hand bunch over my cloak, over the long, ebony wand hanging from the holster at my hip. Before I could say anything, he pointed over his shoulder.
"Distilled Woodnymph Tears"
I relaxed a little, letting my hand fall to my side. Finally, I'd be rid of this man. I performed the unlocking charm on the cabinet and pulled out a small dropper bottle.
"DISTILLED, I said." He sighed disgustedly.
"This is distilled!" I yelled, in one movement pulling my hand from the cupboard, shutting and locking it with a wave of my other hand, and shoving the bottle into his yellowed, greasy face. "See?" I seethed, trying again to be polite.
He looked down at it, going momentarily cross-eyed, and the glared back up at me, the right side of his upper lip curling to reveal sharp, yellowed canine teeth.
"Ring me up, then." He growled, and I strode to the cash register, bewitching my quill to write up a receipt as I wrapped the precious bottle.
"Thirty galleons an six knuts"
He literally threw the money down at me, thirty gold pieces and one silver.
"Keep the change." he said, and was soon stormed out of the shop.
It wasn't all bad, though. The shop was were I met Remus. He was there to pick up an ingredient "for a friend", he said. It was a suspicious ingredient, one used to make Wolfsbane, but our policy is to never question a customer. And he was very nice. He looked rather disheveled in a grayed and tattered traveling cloak, with a strange mustache and long, but well-kempt hair. It looked like he was just growing it out, and it was at a bit of an awkward stage, but he still managed to pull it into a small ponytail. And his hair was a lovely colour, a tawny brown with refined looking silver streaks throughout.
We struck up a conversation, and it was strange the way he seemed to know me already, though he gave nothing away.
It wouldn't be until about a week after I met Remus that I found out why he did seem familiar.
That Monday I was closing, when a tall, hooded figure entered. The figure was willowy, but sprightly, and strode straight to the counter. I was about to close up, as it was midnight, but I figured another customer couldn't hurt, and besides, I was a little hopped up on Dragon's Claw, so I was up for pretty much anything.
"Hero Smythre?" The figure with a long, white beard asked. Before I could answer, he pulled off his hood and smiled at me.
He was a pleasant looking man with a crooked nose, half-moon spectacles, and sparkling blue eyes.
"I was wondering if you were interested in a new job"
I couldn't speak for a second, and then said stupidly- "Albus Dumbledore"
His eyes crinkled and he nodded. "I have heard of you, as you have apparently heard of me. You are a skilled, Muggle-born witch, who was studying to become a Potions teacher in the Northwest United States, and then decided to move to London for reasons even I do not know"
I was aghast. "Erm, well...yes... and...how did you hear about me"
"One of my teachers was in here, and brought you to my attention. Since then I have been researching your background, talking to your old schoolmasters, and such. I have also been watching you from afar. In fact, I'm sure you've met my colleague Remus Lupin"
I was a little- alright, a lot- taken aback by being watched, but Remus' name made me smile. "Yes, I have. Has a werewolf friend, I gathered." If he could play detective, so could I. But Dumbledore looked unfazed. He knew much more of me. All I knew of him was knowledge gained from about ten chocolate frog cards.
"I have an opening at my school, and I was wondering if you'd be interested"
"Well...um...what sort of opening? I never did finish my Potions and teaching degrees." I admitted, though I didn't want to delve further into the subject.
"That's alright. Teaching will only be part of your job- and probably not for long. While I will need a substitute teacher for my Defense Against the Dark Arts classes- at least, for a couple months- and you may be called upon to teach the occasional Potions lesson, my main objective is to acquire an assistant for my dear and overworked Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape"
Wow...Professor Smythre did seem to have a ring to it. And working at the famous- and sometimes infamous- Hogwarts School after my boring education at the Seattle Institute for Gifted Magical Children, well...that was just too much. I didn't have to think about it long, and by the time August rolled around, I found myself on an extraordinary train packed with children and teen-agers.