Chapter 2: Interview

"Lydia!"

"Emma! I'm so excited to see you!" Lydia gave Emma half a hug around her bag. "How are you?"

"Pretty swamped with work, honestly. I'll have to go back once I've dropped you off at home. Just got another owl for you before I left – do you want any food on the way home?" Emma looked at her slyly. "McDonald's shake to dip your fries in?"

"You know me too well. That sounds perfect," said Lydia. "I had no idea you had McDonald's here."

"Honestly, Lydia, did you do any research before you applied for this job?"

"In my defense, someone talked me into it."

Lydia happily dunked her fries in her milkshake while Emma wound her way through traffic. "Do you usually drive around here? This is nuts."

Emma gave her own milkshake a longing glance, but kept her hands on the steering wheel. "Not usually. I'm not great at Side-Along Apparition, as you are well aware" – Lydia giggled, remembering a particularly eventful night in college – "and bringing you and your bag along sounded like too much for me. Since the Floo hub isn't in a great place for the Tube, car it is."

"Do many of your coworkers drive?"

"No, hardly any. It seems like the magical folks around here aren't quite as integrated with the No-Maj community. The guy in the next cubicle didn't know what I was talking about when I said I spent my weekend watching Netflix!" Emma looked chagrined. "I haven't put my finger on why, exactly. But it's not like home."

"I sort of guessed that already, I think." Lydia chewed thoughtfully. "What kind of country is this where people ask for job inquiries by owl, anyway? That's a throwback." If she were perfectly honest with herself, Lydia was concerned about this job interview. She'd spent the last six months applying for jobs using online systems and getting automated emails back. Sending off her resume via owl, courtesy of Emma, sent out tingles of a "not quite right" feeling she hadn't shaken off yet. An interview is an interview, Lydia thought. I'll take what I can get.

"Lyds, I'm not concerned about the owls so much as I am concerned about you. I know I offered to send the owl, but…" She tried to gather her thoughts. "Since I did, I've been paying more attention to what people say around the office. Hogwarts doesn't sound like any school in the States. It seems more…traditional?" Emma laughed. "Well, if owls and parchment isn't traditional, I don't know what is. But seriously, Lydia, do you know? About the battle? About the war?"

"C'mon, Emma, we took that stupid History 220 class together! You know I studied modern world history." Lydia frowned. "I did try to look up more on the internet, but I couldn't find much about it besides what we talked about in class."

"It's great to have you here, and I'm so glad we can hang out, but really think about this, Lyds. If they offer you the job, I'll be so happy for you, but I don't know if it's anything like you're expecting," said Emma. "Look before you leap, I guess. Moving to another country is hard."

"But I've got you, Em!" Lydia gave her a grin. "Even if it doesn't pan out, I'm sure it'll be ok."

Lydia shifted in her seat. She felt out of place in the blazer and slacks that had served her so well through observations and the one interview she'd managed earlier in the summer. At least her robes match the owls, I guess, she thought mischievously. Professor McGonagall's outfit looked like something straight out of a period drama.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the fact that Lydia was at an interview at an actual castle.

Or the niggling feeling at the back of her brain that she had heard the name McGonagall somewhere before. She certainly looks old enough to have been in one of my textbooks…

"Miss Kaminsky?"

"Oh, pardon me. What did you ask?" Lydia cringed internally. What an awful start.

"Would you like some tea, Miss Kaminsky?" Professor McGonagall asked crisply.

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"Biscuit?" Lydia stared blankly at her. "Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like a cookie?"

"Yes, please." Is this an interview, or a tea party? They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their tea.

Professor McGonagall set down her tea cup and heaved a sigh, as if unsure where to start. "Miss Kaminsky, what do you believe qualifies you for this position?"

Lydia swallowed. Now, isn't that the million-dollar question. "I have a bachelor's degree in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I just finished my master's in education. I have my initial teacher certification with an endorsement in secondary mathematics in the state of Illinois, though I suppose that doesn't entirely translate here. I finished up my student teaching this spring, which was with algebra I and pre-calculus at a high school. I've always loved working with kids, and this job represents a unique opportunity to blend my magical knowledge with my passion for effective No-Maj teaching methods. I know I don't have as much teaching experience as I could have, but I want to learn and I think I can do it." Crossing her fingers, she looked down at her lap, hoping that she wasn't babbling too much.

When she looked up, the elderly professor was looking on her much more kindly than Lydia thought she deserved. "You know, Miss Kaminsky, this is the first time I've had anyone with those particular qualifications apply in the twenty years I've been interviewing people for it." Lydia blinked. Twenty years…?

"Frankly, no one else has applied, and as it is a core subject starting the year without someone covering defense would leave us in a bit of a pickle. Would you be able to move in next week?"

Wait. What? Don't you want to know about my classroom management procedures? My experience incorporating technology into instruction? My teaching philosophy? ANY OF IT?

"Sweetie! Why didn't you call this morning?" You would have been asleep, Mom!

"I was at my interview. It went pretty well. They…they offered me the job," Lydia said. "And they want me to start next week."

Stunned silence met her at the other end of the phone. "Mom?"

"That's great, sweetie. Are you going to take it? I'm sure we could find you something closer to home."

Lydia sighed. "Mom, we've talked about this. No one in Chicago wants to hire me. Maybe if I have a year or two here, I can come back later on."

"Whatever you think, dear. We'll support you whatever you decide."

Why won't that thing stop staring at me?

Lydia had been looking eye-to-eye with Emma's owl, Bob, for a good ten minutes.

Surely it can't be too hard to attach my letter…

Half an hour later, Emma came home to find a bedraggled Lydia laying in the middle of the living room floor, exhausted but victorious in her struggle with Bob.

"So, how'd it go?"

"Time for a celebratory milkshake."