July, 1978
Remus paced his bedroom unremittingly, staring at the envelope in his hand. Energy buzzed through him despite the late hour of night–a mix of excitement to be able to do something productive for the Order and nerves for what jobs he will be pretending to apply to. There was an eagerness to prove himself pounding in his chest and yet a fear of being asked to keep things from his closest friends which he had never had to do before. Though no matter what he was to do, there was only one way to find out.
He sucked in a deep breath and tore open the envelope.
Dear Mr. Lupin,
I am sorry to not be able to deliver straight instructions to you as you were likely expecting. Instead, I have a more unique task in mind for you, if you are willing. Please come to my office tomorrow at eleven to discuss this further. Bear in mind that you are, of course, able to decline this more specific task in favor of more interviews and investigations of Ministry departments like your peers. You are welcome to share with the others that you are meeting me tomorrow regarding a specific task, but if you agree to this assignment, it would have to be of the utmost secrecy. I will explain further in person.
Until tomorrow,
Albus Dumbledore
His heart dropped in anticlimactic disappointment. He furrowed his brow in confusion and read the letter once more, gaining nothing new as to what was to come. And even though Dumbledore explicitly stated that he could always refuse this special task, he knew that the chances of him turning down his first assignment were very slim.
Peter climbed up the stairs as quietly as he could, shutting his bedroom door without a sound to not wake up either of his parents. Dumping his dirt encrusted jacket onto the floor, he instantly opened up his envelope and sagged onto the edge of his bed. Unfolding the letter, he scanned the words quickly, skipping to the main line halfway down the body of the writing. He was assigned four jobs to pursue: entry jobs in the Beast Division, the Floo Network Authority, the Ministry's Public Information Services, and the Goblin Liaison Office.
Nothing too crazy. Nothing overtly dangerous. Nothing he could see Voldemort taking a serious personal interest in.
He could handle this. He could manage this.
He could do this.
Moody would prepare them on how to do this.
Four jobs. Four interviews.
Easy.
Yet, his racing heart rate gave away his lack of confidence. His mind couldn't stop racing as he got under his covers, turning over and over every possible scenario of how this could go wrong.
"What did you guys get?" Sirius said, throwing open James' and Lily's front door.
"Good morning to you, Padfoot," James replied, setting down two mugs of tea on their kitchen table.
Lily waved a spatula as a greeting as she scrambled eggs on their stove.
"I got the International Magical Office of Law, the International Confederation of Wizards, the Foregin Affairs Department, and some obscenely long title for that office that confiscates fake protective objects or spells or whatever," Sirius announced, striding into the room and opening each cupboard one after the other until he found the one filled with mugs. He grabbed one and hung it off of a few fingers, turning around suddenly and leaning against the counter. "I'm not entirely sure how Dumbledore divvied these up, but for some reason, he seems to think I would be interested in an international job."
"Maybe he knew that you used to travel with your family as a kid?" James suggested. "And tea bags are at the bottom shelf of the pantry."
Sirius marched off towards the pantry, talking all the while. "I guess so. I suppose I can play into that in the interviews. I can make up some story about how inspired I was by my trips to France or something. But anyways, what did you get?"
"Is Remus coming, Sirius?" Lily asked.
"Yeah. He'll be down in a minute, I expect."
"I'll add in a few more eggs, then. But he only gave me two departments since I'm already working on potions too. I got the Committee of Experimental Charms and, shockingly, the Muggle Liaison Office."
"Well at least the reasoning for yours makes sense!" Sirius declared, dipping a tea bag into his mug and setting it on the table.
"Mine do too, for the most part," James said. "Or at least, the Broom Regulatory Control does. Not sure about the Department of Mysteries, Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, or the Wizengamot Administration Services."
"Well, hey! Maybe you can ask what the heck the Department of Mysteries does," Sirius said, grabbing silverware from the drawer and headed back to the table.
"Yeah, that might be a difficult interview to prepare for, James added.
A knock cut into their conversation and the three of them simultaneously turned to the front door as Remus let himself in. "Moony!" James called happily. "What departments did you get?"
"Er… not sure," he said, accepting a plate of eggs from Lily with a smile of gratitude. He followed her to their table and joined the three others.
"Oh come on," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "You can tell us. My letter even said that explicitly."
"It's not that I don't want to! I just don't know what my assignment is. I'm supposed to go to Dumbledore's office today to talk with him. He said he has a specific task in mind for me."
Silence greeted him and he shoveled a scoop of eggs into his mouth to give himself something to do.
"Strange," Lily offered. "I wonder what it is."
"I mean, I think I'll still have some jobs to apply for too, but probably not as many as you all."
Sirius scowled. "Merlin, if Dumbledore gives you some mission to infiltrate a Death Eater meeting or something cool like that, I'm going to kick you out of my flat."
"Everything you just said was so wrong, all the way down to the fact that you think of our home as your flat" Remus laughed.
"Well good for you, Moony!" James said, ignoring the pang of jealousy in his chest. "Let's hope it's nothing too intense, straight out of the gate."
"It must be something specific. Something that only you can do," Sirius mused aloud though he seemed to be talking to himself mostly.
Lily kicked him under the table. "Or Dumbledore needs someone to do a task and Remus is a fully qualified candidate."
Remus smirked and slurped at his tea. He hadn't been offended by Sirius's comment after years of living with him, yet seeing Lily's undeterred moral fiber stand against Sirius's blunt lack of a filter was always an entertaining back-and-forth. In fact, he had already run through Sirius's thought process entirely and if he had to guess, Dumbledore was going to assign him some task that had to do with him being a werewolf.
"I guess we'll find out this afternoon," said James.
Remus shook his head quickly and swallowed, setting down his mug before speaking. "If I accept, Dumbledore already warned me that I wouldn't be able to tell you."
James nodded and took a deep breath, biting into his toast without a response. Sirius cleared his throat and leaned forward, letting his chair slam back onto four legs so that he could bend over his plate to eat.
"Sorry. You know I'd tell you if I could."
"We know, Remus," Lily said, offering a small smile. "It'll just… take some getting used to, I think."
He glanced at James and Remus who still refused to look up from their food. "You and me both."
Remus glanced once more at the parchment in his hand, reading over the time as if he hadn't already memorized the entire letter, before tucking it into his pocket and knocking against the thick door.
"Come in."
He took a steadying breath before obliging and creaking the door open. There, he saw Dumbledore waiting for him behind his desk with his usual beaming smile alight upon his face. Remus offered a nervous smile in return and carefully shut the door before approaching the desk, clasping his hands together in front of him.
"Thank you for coming," Dumbledore greeted and with a gesture at the single chair opposite him, he added, "Please, have a seat."
Remus sank onto the edge of the wooden chair and gazed at Dumbledore curiously.
"How are you, Mr. Lupin?" he asked kindly, leaning back in his own chair.
Remus blinked in confusion, his anticipation threatening to drown him if he did not find out about this secret task soon. "I'm doing well, sir," he managed to say.
"Good, good. And how is training?"
"I think it's going well. It's exhausting, but we're learning a lot. Or at least, I am."
"Excellent. Alastor has said that you are further along than he thought you would be, which is obviously extremely high praise, especially coming from him in particular."
Remus furrowed his brow, searching for an appropriate response. "Th–thank you, sir."
Dumbledore sighed and adjusted his glasses before leaning forward once more and clasping his hands on the desk. "Very well, I will skip the pleasantries and assuage your curiosity, shall I?"
Color rose to his cheeks in embarrassment that he could be read so easily. Yet he nodded his gratitude all the same.
"Now I do have two departments that I have in mind for you to apply for, but I did not include them in your letter in case you wished to decline the other half of your task, in which case I would have assigned you more. But just to get them out of the way, I would like you to apply for the Improper Use of Magic Office and the Department of Magical Education. I will write these down for you later on, but now to the more interesting news."
"The more unique task I have in mind for you, as I am guessing you have already assumed, has to do with your lycanthropy."
Remus nodded solemnly, the edge of anticipation fading slightly as his guess was confirmed.
"I have reason to believe that Voldemort is turning his attention away from gathering witch and wizard followers and towards gathering followers elsewhere, though this will hopefully be confirmed by Mr. Pettigrew's interviews. All the same, it is my guess that Voldemort could potentially gain some strong followers in the werewolf community, yet I am not sure if he has yet started the process. So your first assignment would be to discover how engaged Voldemort or the Death Eaters are with werewolves currently. If they have just begun the process, then your assignment continues. If the majority have already picked clear sides, then it will be too dangerous for you to do anything further for risk of your identity already being known."
"Assuming that we can proceed, however, it would be my wish for you to express your… curiosity, let's say, in their message. Never agree to join, nor show vehement disapproval. If you stay in the uncertain middle ground, you could become a part of their community and gain continuous information about Voldemort's actions and plans. I have ideas on how to accomplish all of this, but I would like to get your impression so far. What do you think, My. Lupin?"
What did he think? He was not necessarily surprised that his first assignment had to do with his lycanthropy, yet Dumbledore really was just throwing him straight into the lion's den–almost literally. Then again, it's not as if anyone else in the Order fits this task quite so well. If they had, they surely would have begun the process by now. Plus, if he succeeded, he could provide a constant, or at least monthly, source of information.
"It… it does make sense," Remus said, nodding slowly as he considered everything that this would entail.
Dumbledore smiled graciously in return. "I'm glad you agree. Allow me to explain a little further then. Werewolves are naturally very distrusting people, as I'm sure you can understand. So I think that the best way to start earning another's trust would be at a time when you can really empathize with each other, when they feel most like they can relate to you and no one else around them. I am, of course, talking about those few days surrounding the full moon."
"St. Mungo's still offers the safe transformation program within their walls, as I'm sure you are aware. Though I have not experienced their process personally, so I beg you to correct me if I am wrong, but I think it might be a good option for you to go there to transform, as you usually do during school breaks, but then instead of recovering at home, continue the Mungo's program and recover within their designated ward. They would likely keep all of those who transformed separate from the other patients for everyone's comfort, so this would be a good time to commiserate and connect."
While everything that Dumbledore said was technically true at face value, a darkness swept into Remus at the flippant manner he discussed it all. Their transformation program was safe, sure, but for others specifically. It did nothing to keep them safe from themselves. And yes, they kept the recovering werewolves in a separate ward, but not for everyone's comfort. It was for the comfort of the other patients.
Yet even despite the bitter resentment festering deep within him, Remus could see the reason behind the plan. When the nurses or doctors weren't checking in on them, he would be alone with other werewolves at their most vulnerable and most emotional points, an excellent time to try and gain their trust or connect.
"I agree so far," Remus muttered, allowing him to continue.
"Excellent. Then we have a few options. I believe there is a full moon coming in a little over two weeks–"
"Seventeen days."
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. "In seventeen days. Though if this feels too soon, of course, you may naturally wait until next month."
"Why wait? Voldemort would just be further along by next month. I'd have more of a chance to get in before he secures his influence if I go this month," Remus said with barely any inflection.
"I agree, though I know it is far easier for me to say than for you to do."
Remus suppressed a sigh and gazing intently at his hands, he asked, "Is there anything in particular that I should try to find out?"
"I would not suggest pressing for too much information during your first meeting. Perhaps if you were to meet again, you could try to push for a little more without arousing suspicion. But in this case, just try to get the room's general sense of how they feel about Voldemort's attempt at rising to power. We can probably gauge how much effort he has put in based on their consensus and can then predict his next moves."
Remus nodded his understanding and they continued to discuss tactics and the details a little longer until it was clear that they had exhausted their conversation. Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk to see Remus out, walking slowly at his side towards the door.
"Thank you, Mr. Lupin," he said at the door. "I know lycanthropy is difficult to even talk about with your closest friends, let alone talk of how to use it advantageously with a Professor. So I thank you for patiently hearing me out and for taking on this potentially dangerous task."
Remus felt his cheeks grow warm once again and he gave a tight smile, not entirely sure how to respond.
"I wish you the best of luck and I look forward to reading your report," Dumbledore added with a small bow.
"Thank you," Remus replied and hurried out the door, glancing back to make sure that it was fully closed before he sighed and slowed to a walk. In fact, he walked all the way to Hogsmeade and pulled out a chair at the back table of The Three Broomsticks, a cold butterbeer in hand.
The restaurant was much quieter than he had ever seen it on the school trips and the patrons were certainly much older than the typical students he saw here. Despite the fact that he was likely the youngest one there, his mind instantly traveled back to their weekend trips as if they were lifetimes ago instead of maybe a month ago. Though it felt as if enough had changed from between his last trip to The Three Broomsticks and now to warrant him reminiscing like he was eighty instead of eighteen.
Yet the main difference, the difference that he could feel so tangibly, was the lack of his friends filling the chairs beside him. Sirius wasn't flirting shamelessly with Rosmerta, trying to get any drop of alcohol despite him not being of-age. James wasn't peering around the room incessantly, trying to see if Lily Evans would be here. Peter wasn't demanding that James focus and pay him back for the butterbeer he had bought for them all. And once they were all settled, there was no one to plan adventures with, to share stories with, to tell secrets to.
It was just Remus.
Sure, he could send them all a message that he was here and at least one of them would join him. He was fully aware of the self-inflicted drama.
Yet he couldn't bring himself to send a message. If they came, they would ask about his meeting. If they were here, they would demand to know what Dumbledore wants him to do. Remus would want to tell them and ask for their thoughts, their opinions, with every fiber of his very being. But he was specifically not to tell a soul.
He simply couldn't bring himself to betray Dumbledore's specific orders, not on his very first assignment. Even on any task in the future, really. Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of the age. Who was the nerdy, awkward, barely graduated Remus Lupin to question him? Besides, Remus had joined the Order fully aware that he would be following Dumbledore's instructions. This is what he signed up for and Remus Lupin was nothing if not an astute rule follower.
With a slight chuckle to himself, he took another swig of butterbeer, resigning himself to having to keep the first secret from his friends. He simply hoped it would also be his last.
Most days, while James finished unpacking and mending broken appliances, Lily was busy preparing ingredients, brewing potions, and packaging them up. But now, the small wall near their living room fireplace had a stack of boxes with carefully packed bottles and jars and Lily was simply running out of the right sized containers. She could no longer delay the inevitable. It was time that she visited the various safehouses to distribute their shares.
With a kiss goodbye to James and a triple check that everything was in order, Lily grabbed the largest of the boxes and headed outside to escape their anti-apparition jinx. Hearing Moody's demands for 'Constant Vigilance' ringing in the back of her head, she sighed and balanced the box against her chest so that she could grab her wand out of her back pocket before apparating to the first location.
Henry's cozy home loomed into view and even though it practically screamed warmth and welcome with its overflowing flowers and picket fence, Lily could feel every hair on her skin standing on edge. Part of her itched to turn around and scan the opposite side of the street for the pair of eyes she was sure was on her, yet with a deep breath, she steeled herself and told herself that that was absurd. This was a muggle town and she had been here for two seconds, for God's sakes. Plus, she wasn't even doing anything wrong. She was simply visiting a friend and had a package to deliver. There was hardly anything suspicious about that. Even if someone did see her, stop her and already knew what was inside, and also asked why she was carrying so many potions, she and Henry had already agreed on a cover story. At the time, she thought his demand for a planned story was absurdly paranoid, but now she was grateful to have a backup plan. Apparently, Henry and Moody's suspicions were contagious.
Besides, it was likely that the Death Eaters didn't know she was officially part of the Order and even if they did, she was a rookie. Why would they choose her to follow or track?
Because you're a mudblood and they know it.
With that cheerful thought, Lily hurried through the front gate and up to the door, not bothering to take her time to avoid the garden. She hastily glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing but an empty street, and knocked on the door, internally cursing Henry's sluggishness for not letting her inside within seconds.
It turned out to be a full minute until he reached the front door and let her in. She delivered her potions, feeling her heartbeat slow back to a healthy level within the safehouse, and felt a thrum of gratefulness for Henry's lavish and one-sided chatter. It gave her an excuse to say inside before having to take on her next delivery and she barely even had to participate in the conversation.
Yet eventually, she found a way to politely excuse herself and she let herself back out the front yard to apparate home. The next delivery went just as smoothly and by the third, she strode confidently up to the front door of the building and walked up the five flights of stairs without even giving in to the need to rush to avoid detection by nonexistent Death Eaters.
Two more deliveries later, and Lily was once again within her flat, heaving a heavy sigh of relief. She collapsed onto their sofa and heard James emerge from their bedroom down the hall.
"All finished?" he asked.
"Yes," she groaned in return, shutting her eyes and letting her head fall back against the back cushions.
James lightly kissed her forehead and walked around the couch to sit beside her. "Any troubles? Any nosy neighbors or anything?"
She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling and shook her head, still fully stretched out. "Nope."
"Good."
"Yeah. Moody would be angry that I didn't retrace my steps every time, but I feel like that would be more suspicious."
"Exactly. Plus, we just joined the Order! Even if they know that we're part of some resistance group, why would they track you and not someone who's been in it for ages?" James added, squeezing her knee in reassurance.
Lily found the energy to lift her head and sent James a tired smile. "That's what I thought, too. And now that I know the safehouses a bit better, the next round of deliveries should be even easier."
"Absolutely. And I think you earned yourself the afternoon off. You should just relax until training tonight."
"I guess there's not much use of me starting another round of potions now," she mused. "Maybe I'll just read for a while."
Though it was difficult to focus on her novel with James cursing under his breath every now and then as one of the stove burners failed to cooperate with his attempts to transfigure it into a working stove burner. That, plus Sirius and Remus arriving to help prepare an early dinner before training meant she hardly got anywhere in the book. Thankfully, training was much more productive and they all felt as prepared as they were ever going to be for their various impending interviews.
James strode confidently into the office when the secretary waved him over. Confidence just came naturally to him–perhaps thanks to his rather spoiled upbringing, his parents' teachings, his ease within the Ministry from his parents' work, or maybe it was simply genetics. Either way, he shook the man's hand and smiled as he introduced himself, honestly feeling not a tremble of nerves.
"Mr. Potter. I apologize for making you wait outside for quite so long," the man replied, sitting behind his desk as James sat opposite him.
"No worries, sir. It gave me plenty of time to appreciate the interesting artwork in your offices," James replied.
"Oh, these aren't our offices. I'm just borrowing a colleague's for this interview because no non-employees are allowed in our Department. But you must be an art aficionado, then?"
"Absolutely not." The man laughed and James elaborated with a smile. "My parents simply forced me to go to various art museums with them during our holidays."
"Your parents are Fleamont and Euphemia, correct?"
"They are indeed."
The man nodded appreciatively. "Lovely people. I hope they're doing well?"
"They are, sir."
He nodded again and waved away James' comment. "Enough of this 'sir' nonsense. I feel like I already know you! Anyone related to those two lovely souls must be a friend of mine. Call me Mr. Rookwood."
James grinned and dipped his head in recognition.
"Now, let's get down to business." Rookwood leaned forward, clasping his hands on the desk and furrowing his brow. "I've read through your resume and am quite impressed. You have good grades, good test scores, you were Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, plus you have no shortage of beaming letters of recommendation from your Head of House. And of course, you come from an excellent family so there would be no trouble there."
James frowned slightly, but quickly rearranged his face into a gracious smile once more, tucking his comment away to remember later.
"But I have to ask, why the Department of Mysteries? This certainly isn't most students' top choice when they graduate Hogwarts."
"Well, Mr. Rookwood, I suppose it's because I like a challenge. I had an early start in my education thanks to my parents, so I always found the lessons at Hogwarts rather boring. But the Department of Mysteries is the exact opposite of that. I knew that I wanted to at least try for a position here when I read up on it in the Hogwarts library–" a lie "-because there was only the barest of information to be found in all of it. Even just finding out about the job itself was a challenge." Another lie. "And being my stubborn self, I suppose that I didn't want to be bested by the library, so I asked around–"I asked Moody "-and found out about all of the sub departments here and it seems like you are really studying advanced magic. I know that if I worked here, every day would be a challenge and I would certainly learn tons that I couldn't learn anywhere else."
Rookwood nodded thoughtfully and scratched his graying goatee before responding. "You would certainly be challenged, that is for sure. Though I have no doubt you'd be up to the challenge. If you were able to find any information on our department in the Hogwarts Library, you must have scoured the place. We try to keep our jobs under-wraps, you see. That wouldn't be a problem for you, would it?"
"Absolutely not. I may be a model student on paper, but I've had to keep my share of secrets from my parents."
He let out a chuckle and flipped through a few pages of James' file that was resting on his desk. "Why do you think you'd be a good fit here, Mr. Potter?"
And so the interview continued. James answered question after question, filing away the few sparse comments that Rookwood let slip about the Department's opinions, and threw in a few more jokes that earned him a laugh or two. As the interview was clearly winding down, Rookwood leaned back in his chair and asked, "Do you have any questions about the Department, Mr. Potter?"
James laughed and replied honestly, "Loads!"
With a well-meaning chuckle, Rookwood nodded. "Understandable. Of course, I may not be able to answer many of your questions since you are not employed here, but ask away and I will see what I can do."
"That would be great, thank you. I suppose one question would be how big is it? Is it just you and a few others or would I be joining a much larger team?"
"I would say somewhere in between those two estimates."
James nodded. "A happy medium, then. And I'm guessing your department doesn't work with others much, does it?"
"No. There is certainly very little inter-departmental communication."
"Can you tell me about how the department is set up? Who reports to who, that kind of thing?"
Rookwood furrowed his brow, clearly considering how much to divulge. "There are the usual tiers as in any Ministry job where there are heads of sub-departments that each have a team under them."
"I see. I've heard of a lot of people switching between departments for promotions and that sort of thing, I'm guessing that is not the case here?"
"That would be correct. Of course, you are welcome to move to another department, but we prefer to keep our employees within our department. It makes the secrecy much easier to bear."
"Yes, that makes sense. It seems that you have quite the little community established down in the Department of Mysteries."
"We do indeed. We may seem like an imposing Department, but I assure you, our employees are just as friendly as anyone else." Rookwood glanced at his watch and stood from his seat. "Though unfortunately, my colleague will be needing his office back rather soon so I'm afraid I will have to cut our meeting here."
"Of course. I appreciate your time," James said, hastily rising too.
"It was a pleasure to meet you," Rookwood reached over the desk to shake James' hand one more time. "And if I'm being perfectly honest with you, I didn't expect to get much out of this meeting today. In fact, I only agreed to it because I recognized your surname! But all the same, I might just poke around and see if anyone in my Department needs an extra pair of hands."
James grinned. "I would greatly appreciate that. Thank you so much, Mr. Rookwood."
"Good morning, Miss Chessman," Lily said pleasantly, carefully shutting the door behind her. She tucked her hair behind one ear nervously and walked into the office, light streaming through the two windows behind the witch's desk, practically blinding her as she stretched out her hand.
The witch looked up with a perfunctory smile and gestured to the seat across from her, either not seeing or pretending not to see Lily's outstretched hand. "Miss Evans. Please have a seat."
"I've read through your resume and your school files. I see you've done well in Charms. I presume that's why you want to join the Committee on Experimental Charms?" she asked, her attention turning back to the papers in her hand.
Lily furrowed her brow. She had barely taken a seat and had expected some sort of pleasantries. Nonetheless, she forced a smile and answered. "That is certainly part of it. But I've done well in Charms partially because of how much I enjoy it which is why I wanted to find a career in the field."
"I see. So you don't want to work on this committee in particular. Just something vaguely in Charms?"
"No, no, no! I definitely want a job with your department in particular. I love reading about new experiments with inventive charms which is why I applied here."
Miss Chessman pursed her lips and one eyebrow raised slightly. She was clearly unimpressed and even though Lily knew she didn't really want this job, her heart fluttered wildly and she began to bounce her foot beneath her chair. She answered the next few questions, gaining similar responses, but she wasn't able to learn anything in return until Miss Chessman flipped the page of Lily's resume.
"You've mentioned that you have held a few other summer jobs. Can you tell me how you'd apply what you learned there to a position here?"
"Sure, I guess the first one I can think of would be my job in our local arcade. I was a –"
"An arcade?" she interrupted and she looked up abruptly, like a deer in headlights. "What is that?"
"Oh, sorry. It's a muggle thing. Just a business with a bunch of games and things like that for kids to play."
"So you live near muggles?"
"Well, yes. I live with muggles."
Miss Chessman stared blankly at her.
"I'm a muggle-born," Lily elaborated.
Miss Chessman nodded solemnly and turned back the page on the resume, scanning the front cover. "Ah, so you are a muggle-born," she murmured.
"Is… Is that a problem?"
"No, of course not," she said, giving the impression of the exact opposite. "I just wish there was a way to know that prior to interviews, but that may change soon enough."
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing, nothing. Please continue. Tell me more about this arcade." Though clearly, Miss Chessman was not interested in Lily whatsoever. Nonetheless, Lily could still find a use out of Miss Chessman.
"Well… okay. I suppose that it really taught me new ways of working with a team, which I'm sure would be beneficial in such a large department such as yours–"
"We don't have a large department."
"Oh, really? My apologies, I must be mistaking you with another area. Even so, I'm sure you're quite a tight knit group, so my position in the arcade–"
"We're not tight-knit. We are co-workers, nothing more."
"Well that is certainly a good way to promote a healthy work-life balance, which–"
"I"m sorry, Miss Evans. I just don't think you're going to be a good fit for us here," Miss Chessman said with a sigh, snapping her folder shut.
Lily sat back in surprise: not surprise at the obvious fact, just the fact that she had stated it so bluntly. "Oh. Do you mind me asking why?"
The witch frowned with no intention of answering.
"Just so that I can improve my interviewing skills for the next job opportunity."
"You seem like a pleasant young woman, Miss Evans. Your interview was just as informative as the next recent graduate."
"Then do you think I'd be a good candidate anywhere else in the department? Maybe under a different head or subdivision?"
She shrugged. "You can try. Why do I know what the other subdivisions like in their employees?"
"Mr. Black! Come in, come in!" said the witch holding open her door with a beaming smile.
"Thank you for having me," he replied, side-stepping the shorter woman and entering into her office. He scanned the room briefly, noticing the wall taken up with books he was sure were filled with as dense of material as they appeared. The room was spacious and neat. Everything was in its place at their precise angles and Sirius would give nothing more than to move her nameplate ever so slightly so that it was not parallel with the edge of the desk, just to see what she would do.
Deciding that that wasn't the best first impression, he turned to face the witch with a wide smile of his own. "How are you, Mrs. Liu?"
"I'm well, I'm well. And you?" she asked, bustling around him to her seat.
"Never better," he replied and sat himself. Though that was a lie. He would feel better if he could just mess up one thing in this room. Maybe he could reach the row of quills, ordered by length, at the edge of the desk without being noticed?
"I'm so sorry. I'm sure you get this all of the time, but I have to ask." She began, squinting through her glasses and Sirius was forced to look up from her substantial quill collection. "Are you related to Cygnus Black?"
"Yes, I am." Though his pleasant smile suddenly felt much heavier. "He's my uncle."
"Delightful! We went to school together, back in the day. What a lovely man. Never did harp on about me being a half-blood, even if it was just my great-grandfather that was a muggle. All the others in my little group would tease me mercilessly, though I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about, being a pure-blood yourself."
Sirius frowned at her misty-eyed look of awe. "I've never really cared about people's blood status, myself," he said, careful to keep his tone conversational.
Her eyes widened in surprise and the mist instantly cleared. "Wow. How… progressive of you."
"Is it?"
She cleared her throat and adjusted the stack of papers at the corner of the desk before re-adjusting them so that they were in the same place that they started in. "Well then. I'm afraid I have some questions I'd like to ask. I can't just ask Cygnus about you anymore, we haven't talked in… gosh, it must be a few years now!"
"Lucky you," he muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, sorry."
"Okay. Well tell me about yourself, Mr. Black. What makes you different from all of the other candidates that want to join the International Magical Office of Law?"
The questions went on and on and Sirius found his attention waning, only to be brought back in suddenly when she mentioned something of use to the Order. Then it would slip back again to the point that he had to ask her to repeat the question. Even the urge to mess with her OCD had lost its appeal so that when the interview was clearly over, he was sure he had failed. And yet, Mrs. Liu clearly had other ideas.
"Well, it was certainly a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black." Her eyes shone above a genuine smile and Sirius managed to restrain his brows from shooting up in surprise.
"You as well."
"I suspect you'll be hearing from me or my colleagues rather soon."
"I look forward to it."
And he left the office in a mix of confusion and amusement. The strange slurry of pride at likely having landed a job offer that he had no interest of accepting with the disappointment of having bombed an interview for a job that he had no interest of taking was an odd one and he found himself smirking inwardly as he left the lift into the atrium. His head was still in the clouds when he practically ran into another wizard who had to side-step hastily out of his dazed way.
"Oh! Sorry!" Sirius called over his shoulder, turning around to glance at whoever he had practically run over.
"No worries, young man," the other man grumbled, shaking his head slightly. Then he stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his retreating back.
"Sirius Black?"
He stopped abruptly, his heart pounding at the sheer surprise of being recognized. In his experience, that was never a good sign. He turned and cocked his head at the man. "Yes?"
"It is you!" he laughed, considerably more cheerful than a moment before. Within two strides, the wizard was shaking Sirius's hand and introducing himself.
"You clearly don't remember me, but I'm Rookwood. Augustus Rookwood. Our families have been friends for ages."
"Oh, yes. Now I remember," he lied. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Rookwood."
"It is such an odd coincidence, seeing you here. Are you still friends with James Potter?"
Sirius nodded. "Yes, I am."
"That's what I thought. I just interviewed him a day or two ago! You let him know that one of my colleagues might have a spot for him, if he wants it."
"I'll tell him. I'm sure he'll be very excited."
"Good, good. It is an exciting time for all of you young folks, huh? Finding your ways in the world. Have you found your next chapter yet?"
"I was actually just here for an interview too. International Magical Office of Law."
Rookwood nodded and continued his beaming smile. "Good for you. I'm sure you did wonderfully. Maybe I'll even put in a good word for you if I'm over there today."
"That would be wonderful, thank you."
"Think nothing of it, Mr. Black. Nothing at all." He glanced at his watch and nodded once to himself. "Well, I really must be going but it was a pleasure to run into you–quite literally, I might add."
Sirius grinned sheepishly. "Sorry again about that."
"All is certainly forgiven. Until next time." He nodded once to Sirius then turned on his heel and continued his direct path to the lifts. Feeling rather confused about that entire affair, Sirius turned on his heel to leave while Rookwood turned around once more, walking backwards towards the lift to watch Sirius as he walked away. He pursed his lips, trying to piece together the puzzle of odd coincidences, if that's all they were.
"Hello. I'm Peter Pettigrew, nice to meet you." Peter extended his hand pleasantly and the man before him smiled in return.
"Hello Mr. Pettigrew. I'm . Please follow me."
Hastily, Peter collected his case filled with nothing but a few spare copies of his resume and hurried behind the man who was considerably taller than him, forcing Peter to take two steps for each of his. He led him to a room that was evidently his office and held open the door, motioning for Peter to enter before him. Peter ducked his head and did so, feeling his hands grow sweaty on the leather handle of his case. He sat in the chair obviously meant for him and was taken aback when Thurber dragged the chair from behind the desk to the front so that they could be sitting face-to-face with nothing in between them.
"You don't mind if I sit on this side with you, do you? I can usually get a much better sense of the person when there isn't a giant desk between us," Mr. Thurber said casually, already lounging in his chair.
"Oh! No, I don't mind. Not at all." Peter readjusted himself nervously, trying to decide whether to face the man directly or remain turned like he was before. He clasped his hands in his lap and squeezed his fingers to stop them from fidgeting. Without a desk, he would have to be conscious of his usual tells of anxiety; wringing his hands, bouncing his foot, squirming in his seat–they would all have to go.
"So… Mr. Pettigrew," he began and Peter was keenly aware of his entire body being scanned and analyzed. "Tell me about yourself."
His eyebrows shot up. "Okay… well… I just graduated from Hogwarts as a Gryffindor and–"
"No, no," Mr. Thurber laughed, though Peter saw nothing particularly amusing about this situation. "You misunderstand me. I know all about you from your application. Tell me your qualities that I can't get off of your resume. What is there about you that I should know that isn't on those pages."
Peter gulped. He blinked twice and gave a nervous laugh. "Er…"
"It's a very broad question, I know. Take a minute to think, if you need. I can see you have decent test scores, but what else about your intelligence–"
"I'm not that smart," Peter mumbled.
Mr. Thurber stopped in his tracks and leaned forward. "What was that?"
"Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."
"No, it wasn't. Honesty is key in the Public and Private Information Department. Tell me why you feel less than intelligent."
Heat rose to his cheeks and he was afraid to look away from the man's hypnotic gaze that was boring into him. "Just… er… my friends, you see. They were–are–always smarter than me and they always helped me with things when they already knew it without having to read the textbook or barely listen in class."
"Hm," Thurber replied, leaning back in his chair once more and nodding to himself. "I see."
Peter couldn't help himself from squirming a little under his unrelenting gaze. In his prior experience after admitting to a crippling insecurity, now would be a great time for words of reassurance. A fresh vote of confidence. Not this analytical stare down as if Thurber was trying to determine if he was intelligent or not just by watching him ceaselessly.
"So other than your refreshing honesty, how else would you describe yourself?"
Peter looked out the small window for a moment, searching the fake skies for inspiration. "I would say that I'm… curious. And a realist. And eager to prove myself, I suppose." He turned away from the window, hoping to see any sign of approval on his unreadable expression.
"Eager to prove yourself, hm?"
Peter shrugged.
"Interesting. I could say the same about myself. It can lead you to some curious paths, can't it?" he said with a short bite of laughter. Then he shook himself and leaned forward once more, settling back into his interviewing persona.
Peter frowned at his odd admittance but tried to pass it off as nerves before answering the man's series of questions. As Moody had instructed, Peter tried to answer the questions in ways to draw out more personal experiences from the man, even if his responses were less than strictly truthful. And in some regards, his lies and even his truths grew fruitful. Now, the only hard part was to remember all that he had learned long enough to write his debrief to Dumbledore and to tell his friends during their lunch plans tomorrow.