Chapter 11: The Interview

It was as though all forces of the universe were against him, the people, the government, magic itself. Harry could not make sense of it, Smith had just disappeared one night, it was as though the darkness in his office had swallowed him up. He was nowhere to be found, he'd not been heard of, nor had he contacted anyone before he vanished. It was an enigma. Harry suspected it had something to do with the empty bottles of ale in the professor's trunk. Dozens upon dozens of broken bottles, the velvet lining was soaked through; it was as though someone had broken them…. On top of this the charms protecting the floo network over Hogwarts were now nonfunctional, though, there was no conclusive proof that a person had tampered with them, it was as though they had gone bad, like meat on a countertop.

Of course Rita Skeeter found a way to blame all this on Harry's incompetence. She had even gone so far to say that he was the worst Head Auror in the history of the Ministry of Magic, and that it remained to be seen how terribly he would fail at his Headmaster position. Harry, through all of this, had wondered why she spent so much time blaming him for everything, instead of questioning Percy's, the minister's decision for putting him there. Not that he would ever wish that upon Percy, but he found it odd that Rita had not examined that angle.

Then, just that morning, as though she had read his thoughts, the front page article on the Daily Prophet was completely covered with an article questioning, and severely criticizing Percy's decision. It was then Harry had really begun to push the Auror's to follow every single lead they had, anything. But, there was nothing….

He'd never been so frustrated in his entire career as Head Auror… in his entire life, even. On top of all of this, he could not find anyone to fill up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. He would have done it himself, but he was already running two institutions, not a soul would even come for a bloody interview. He had a suspicion that people wanted to avoid both him, and the post, as though Voldemort's jinx was in affect once more.

XxX

Draco succumbed to Voldemort's jinx. His knees buckled and he was forced to bow before the form of his father, the eyes of the Dark Lord glaring in their piercing way from Lucius Malfoy's sockets.

"Was that so difficult?" the Dark Lord hissed. Alecto Carrow burst into a fit of laughter; several other Death Eaters in the room chuckled as well.

"No." Draco spat.

"Very good. Arise!"

Lucius's wielded Voldemort's yew wand like a blade, with a slight flick upwards, Draco was on his feet.

"Now that the pleasantries have ended I shall reveal why I called you all to me, for this meeting." said Voldemort, sinking into a black armchair, near the fireplace of Malfoy Manor's grand living room. Draco sat down upon the sofa, the Death Eaters traveled out of their way to avoid him; some fell into the copious, yet stiff arm chairs, and the remaining sofas. Voldemort's mind commanded Lucius fingers to fold.

"I merely wished you all to bear witness to my sending young master Draco here to fulfill his part of the plan." Voldemort said quietly. His eyes flicked from Death Eater, to Death Eater, and then to Draco.

"I trust you have not forgotten our agreement."

"No."

"I doubted you would, if you do this one task for me, Draco, your life shall be spared, and so shall the rest of your family. Now, you know what I ask?"

"Yes."

"Then leave, and find it for me."

"Yes, my lord." Draco replied statically. "I must pack."

Lucius's eyebrow cocked, he waved the yew wand, and, seconds later, a black trunk flew in to the living room, landing softly at Draco's feet.

"You are packed." Voldemort's voice stated.

"Wait, wait a moment my lord!" cried Amycus Carrow. "What if he is not accepted?"

"Oh but he will be, the Skeeter woman has ensured that. Potter is desperate." Voldemort replied silkily, though he spat the word Potter like a cobra spits venom.

"Of course, our Lord has accounted for the possibilities!" Alecto stated jubilantly.

"Indeed, so, tell me Draco, why are you still standing there?"

"My son, should he not accompany me?" Draco asked hopefully.

Lucius's lips curled into the cruelest of smiles.

"No," said Voldemort's voice quietly. "no, no, I think not. For you see Draco, I have doubts about where your loyalties truly lie, to Lord Voldemort, or to yourself? That is why your offspring, your wife, and your mother will remain with me. They will be your collateral, you will be reunited with them once your task is complete, fail to complete that task and they will die, though suffer greatly first. Now go, complete your task quickly, for if I grow impatient I might just slip, and one of your loved ones will die."

XxX

McGonagall felt a mixture of fear, shock, and relief as she led the paled, cloaked figure toward the Headmaster's office, striding at a brisk pace. She could barely believe it when he showed up near the Hogwarts gate; she even dismissed a completely sober Hagrid as drunk when he told her. It was as though she was in denial. After all, he had not been seen for a long while…. Everyone though him dead, even she. How foolish, of course he was not dead, he was walking silently behind her, he was here to meet with Potter.

She was slightly out of breath when she came upon the stone gargoyle, the cloaked figure behind her was complete silent, his breathing could not be heard. She turned her head to look at his pale, finely defined features.

"This is it."

"I'm aware, I attended this school before, Professor."

McGonagall pursed her lips. She was never a fan of his sarcasm. The Transfiguration teacher turned her head briskly, and tartly stated,

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

The gargoyle leapt aside, exposing a winding stair case that rose like those muggle escalators. She allowed the pale wizard to step on to before herself. McGonagall hesitated, watching him trail up and away from her before putting a skippered foot on the winding staircase and allowing it to bring her along for the ride. After a few moments of silent waiting the staircase stopped with a kind of muffled, booming click.

Before she could, the cloaked one knocked upon the Headmaster's door.

"Enter," commanded Harry Potter's voice. The pale man smiled, and did so. He stepped into the Headmaster's study filled with the portraits of the headmasters of old. It was well past midnight, the time this important event was to take place, all of the headmasters and headmistresses should have been sleeping, though, like usual, they were merely putting up an unconvincing façade of slumber.

"Minerva?" Harry questioned as the pale figure sat down before his desk.

"He is here about—"

"I'm here about your problem Potter." sneered the cloaked man.

"What problem might that be?" Harry returned testily.

"You have a post open, do you not?" asked the pale figure, removing his hood.

"Yes, but why on earth would I hire you, Malfoy?" Harry hissed. "You were once a Death Eater, I'm not sure parents would approve of one of Voldemort's former servants teaching their children to defend themselves from the Dark Arts."

"But who better to teach than one who knows the Dark Arts?" Malfoy countered.

"True, but I'd rather put someone trustworthy in the post."

"What makes you doubt me, Potter?"

"For one, I find it suspicious that you've not been seen in public for so long, you or your family, and your house is locked up so securely that it could rival the wizarding prison Azkaban."

"I suppose it is a kind of quarantine. I assure you Potter, I find it as suspicious as you do." Malfoy lied. "My mother, son, and father, who is right now lying upon his death bed are sick with spattergroit. I was as well, but I've been cured. Saint Mungo's has healers coming in and out every day, specially trained healers who tell me this is being kept quiet. I don't know why, but you can look at Saint Mungo's records if you wish. You are the Head Auror."

Harry remained unconvinced. Records could be forged, and for all he knew every healer in St. Mungo's was in the Malfoy's pocket. He allowed this explanation to suffice for now, he was still untrusting of Malfoy, he'd had a hunch for a long time now, he was not sure what the hunch was, nor what to make of it… he just had a feeling. Perhaps he could keep an eye on him if he was at Hogwarts though….

"I'll check those records." he said simply. "Now, if you wish to teach here, I'll have to interview you. Perhaps you could come back at a better time."

"No, I have nowhere to go, the healers will not allow me in my home again, for fear that I will catch the spattergroit again. They, apparently, can fend off the damned disease, of course, I don't know how that is possible, spattergroit is highly contagious, is it not Potter?" Malfoy sneered in his drawling way that reminded Harry so much of their time at Hogwarts that he almost wanted to jinx Malfoy.

"I suppose it is," Harry agreed crisply. McGonagall watched them both with a slightly bemused and amused expression on her elderly face.

"I thought you would," Malfoy replied smugly, Harry knew he was hinting about his, Hermione's, and Ron's stunt when they were on the run from Voldemort, making it seem as though Ron has spattergroit. This thought… Harry could not help but wonder… was Malfoy hinting at something?

"Well, let us get this interview started." Harry proposed. He looked to McGonagall. "You can leave."

She gave a kind of smile before nodding and turning to exit the office. At first the Transfiguration professor had been a little more than surprised that Malfoy was requesting the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position, and she was slightly nervous. After all, she had taught both Potter and Malfoy, and she knew how the behaved around one another. Now, seeing that little had changed, she, somehow, found it all slightly amusing.

Harry knew exactly what she was thinking too, and he inwardly scowled as the door closed behind her. Then again, if he was in her position, he'd probably find it amusing as well. But, back to the point, Malfoy.

"So," Harry began, not sure how to start off, after all, he had never had to give a teaching interview before. "what makes you want this post?"

"Haven't I already made that clear Potter?" Malfoy snapped. "My family is ill with spattergroit, my father is on his death bed, and I cannot return to my home. I need somewhere to stay, and I need some job to take my mind off of it all, Hogwarts can provide me with both."

"Fine," Harry replied, not believing him in the least. "Well then, what makes you think you are qualified to take up this position?"

"What kind of question is that Potter? I'm qualified for the same reason Snape was qualified. I was a Death Eater, and I was taught the Dark Arts. Don't you believe I would, of all people, know how to defend myself against them?"

"No, not really, I reckon you spent most of your time learning how to use them, than you spent learning how to defend yourself. Remember Crabbe, and fiendfyre?"

"Crabbe was an idiot and we both know it, Potter." Malfoy spat, not displaying how it actually did hurt him, that comment. Crabbe had truly been one of his… friends, if he had any.

"He was," Harry agreed. "so, perhaps you can show me that you can do better to defend yourself."

"Are you suggesting we torch this office just to see if I can stop it? I might not Potter, I'd find it rather amusing if the school burned down under your watch, I suppose I could get a job a Hogs Head, they have rooms."

"Do you want this job or not?"

"I admit I would prefer it to bartending."

"Then," Harry said once more. "prove to me you can defend yourself."

"And once again, we start the circle of talk. What do you want me to do?"

Harry pulled his wand on Malfoy quicker than a normal human should have been able to. In a moment he was poised and ready.

"Imperio!" he cried.

He was surprised at how Malfoy immediately resisted, as though he'd been expecting it. Harry barely had control for more than a few seconds before he was defeated.

"Pathetic, Potter," Malfoy half chuckled. "I was taught how to defend myself, can't have my enemies stooping to my level, can I, as you would say? I'm quite capable of defending myself against more than you know."

"I'll admit," said Harry. "That was impressive, you can defend yourself. Shaking off the Imperius Curse is difficult, of course you know that. So, for whatever it is worth, you have proved something."

"Do I have the job then?"

"Not quite. There are two more things I would like to do."

"Yes?"

"Are you prepared to duel?"

Malfoy's eyebrows quirked. "We've done quite enough of that in school, haven't we?"

"Not enough for me to judge how capable you are." Harry returned. Wordlessly, he stood, Malfoy followed suit. He led the DADA Professor prospect behind in front of his desk, and magicked the various tables and instruments, some of which had belonged to Dumbledore (whom Harry wished would return to his portrait), to the side of the room, creating quite a large space. Harry and Malfoy strode to opposite sides of the room and drew their wands.

"I cast first," Harry stated.

"Of course," Malfoy replied.

Harry nodded. They bowed briefly, and not exactly respectfully, then took up their stances. As promised, Malfoy allowed Harry to move first. Wordlessly, Harry flourished his wand; a streak of amethyst light erupted from the tip, shooting straight for Malfoy.

Malfoy side stepped, allowing the particularly nasty jinx of Harry's own creation (with a bit of help from Hermione) to hit the cabinet behind him, shattering the glass doors. There was a flash of light, and Harry found himself facing a bullet sized speck of green light flying toward him. He spun whilst shouting "Protego!". A see-through shield of magic sprang to life about around him, the speck of green dissolved into it.

Harry turned to face his opponent again, Malfoy was already in the process of casting a hex, but Harry was far to quick. He angled his wand as though it was a fire arm, concentrated, and, quite suddenly, a jet of white flame erupted, flying straight for Malfoy. This was another spell of Harry's own creation, and, in his opinion, it was quite hard to defend against, there was only one way he knew how…. Malfoy, apparently, was quick on his feet, he flicked his wand and Harry watched as the air in the room was… sucked into it. The fire flickered and died as all the oxygen was magicked away.

The Headmaster smiled and re-oxygenated the room. He nodded in approval.

"Very good, I think that's the only way to defend against that spell." Harry said.

"Fine," Malfoy replied shortly. "Do I have the job?"

"One last thing…"

Malfoy threw his hands up in frustration.

"Can you cast a Patronus?" Harry asked.

"Of course," Malfoy sneered. "Dead useful too, they are. Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery, misty asp manifested from the tip of Malfoy's wand and sort of slithered in the air around the perimeter of Harry's office before vanishing in a wisp of smoke. Harry, once again, nodded.

"Normally I'd probably test your teaching skills right now," he said. "but, I think that can wait, the children at least need a substitute, and you're more than capable. I'd liked Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons to resume quickly, so you can take Smith's old office, look over his lesson plans, gauge where best to begin. How long do you think that will take?"

"How does two days sound?"

Harry was slightly surprised. "Well enough."

"Good, I'll have it done by then, I'll be teaching quicker than even the Head Auror can cast a Patronus."

With that Malfoy turned and left, taking the office key from Harry.

Perhaps now Voldemort's plan is becoming clearer to you? I'd hope so. Um… yes… well… I tried to make it realistic, Harry hiring Malfoy that is, and that's it for this um… Author's Note I guess. By my use of the word um (which always seems to be replaced with er in the HP books) you can tell I'm not British. I'm American, I have a nasally Northern American accent because I live up north in the US. I don't know why I'm going on about this, I suppose it is because I want to fill the Author's Note part up with a lot of meaningless crap so I can sneak in my "please review" plea at the end, which I should stop doing because... well you all do review. So um… yes… that's it, until the next chapter.