This fanfiction is based on "The Potions Master" by LosRisitaHermanos. Credit to the original author for the plot and the first 2 chapters.
Due to the original fic being discontinued i decided to try to make my own fic with it.
Disclaimer: I very unfortunately dont own Harry Potter
The Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, sat in her cozy chair in Dumbledore's old office, her tired eyes scanning through a pile of papers and applications cluttering her desk. Finding a replacement for the retired Potions professor, Horace Slughorn, had turned into a real headache. The candidates she had seen so far had been a disaster, bringing chaos and incompetence instead of the much-needed expertise.
With only one applicant left for the day, McGonagall took a moment to reflect on the importance of the office she now occupied—the former office of the great Albus Dumbledore. The room still had his touch, filled with precious belongings and portraits whispering ancient wisdom. A soft knock broke her thoughts, and she motioned for the person to come in.
A man in his early fifties walked into the room. He looked sharp, dressed in a well-tailored suit, with a black pork pie hat resting on his lap. His face showed signs of experience, lined with the marks of time, and his glasses sat on a nose that seemed to have a story or two. He carried an air of confidence and familiarity as he gracefully took a seat, surveying the office with discerning eyes. Minerva gestured for him to sit, and he did, showing a quiet assurance.
"Thanks for coming, Mr... White," McGonagall started, her voice tinged with curiosity. She reached for his extensive resume, carefully extracting it from the stack of papers before her.
The man nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Indeed, I'm Walter White, but call me Walt. I'm from New Mexico, in the United States."
Now McGonagall was interested. "Quite a journey for a job interview. Can I ask what made you leave your previous position?"
A shadow passed over Walt's eyes, a touch of regret seeping into his voice. "I found myself caught up in a pretty messy situation with my former employers. Things turned sour, and I lost a lot of what kept me tied to that place. So, I figured it was time for a change—a chance to carve out a new path. And what better change than this?" He met McGonagall's gaze, determination and weariness blending in his expression.
McGonagall furrowed her brow slightly. "You seem well-informed about Hogwarts and its unique nature. How did you stumble upon our existence, given your non-magical background?"
Leaning forward, Walt's apprehension became tangible. "It was a stroke of luck, I tell you. I was wandering the busy streets of London, looking for a job. As a fifty-three-year-old who had just left a lifelong career, it was pretty tough finding something decent. I had a few interviews with regular old educational institutions, but they didn't ignite my passion, you know? I was looking for something beyond the ordinary school system."
Pausing for a moment, a flicker of contempt passed through his eyes, and Walt continued. "During my aimless wanderings, I stumbled upon this pub called 'The Leaky Cauldron.' A cozy spot that felt right. Despite the busy street outside, the place was mostly empty. That's where I struck up a chat with the bartender, Tom, who let me in on the magical world's existence and all its hidden wonders. Hogwarts, with its rich history and mind-blowing education, caught my attention."
McGonagall's intrigue deepened as she listened to Walt's story. There was something genuine in his voice, something that went beyond mere words. Maybe he was more than just a lost wanderer seeking an opportunity.
"But, Mr. White," McGonagall cautiously interjected, "while I admire your enthusiasm, the position we have requires expertise in potions, a field deeply rooted in magic. It demands patience, precision, and a keen eye. The nature of potion-making can drive even the most stable-minded person crazy."
A spark of determination ignited in Walt's eyes as he leaned back in his chair, his confidence unshaken. "I understand your concerns, Professor McGonagall. But let me tell you, my skills with chemicals go beyond your wildest expectations. In my previous line of work, I wasn't just good; I was exceptional. I'd be more than happy to show you what I'm capable of if you're up for it."
Intrigued yet skeptical, McGonagall rose from her chair, her robe swishing as she moved to a nearby cabinet. With a flick of her wand, she summoned vials of shimmering liquids and silver instruments, conjuring a cauldron right before Walt's eyes. Returning to her seat, she watched, her eyes expectant, waiting for Walt to question the apparent magic happening in front of him.
"So, you say you would be willing to demonstrate your talents", McGonagall began. "I want you to brew me" - She flicked her wand and the recipe book found its correct page - "a Draught of Living Death potion. It's incredibly tricky and requires meticulous, precise work. Get it seriously wrong and you could end up putting into a coma whoever takes it. Since you're from a non-magic background, and these are extenuating circumstances, I'm not expecting perfection but this is the task for me to see if you are right for the job"
McGonagall pushed the book over to Walt to examine. His face was inscrutable as he perused the pages. Minutes went by where he did nothing but read the instructions, turning pages like he was analysing delicate artefacts. He paid no attention whatsoever to the potion-making kits that he had no idea about. Finally he looked up with a satisfied look on his face.
"Let's get to it then", said Walt. The desire to prove himself was palpable in his voice.
McGonagall gracefully stepped back, giving Walt space to do his thing. He approached the cauldron, his movements deliberate and calculated. Lighting a fire beneath the pot, he began the process of preparing the ingredients Minerva had given him. The room filled with an aroma as Walt skillfully combined the elements, his actions reflecting the hours upon hours he had spent in a lab.
For hours on end, Walt immersed himself in brewing the potion. The fire beneath the cauldron flickered and danced along with his movements, mirroring the intensity of his concentration. McGonagall watched in awe, her curiosity slowly transforming into astonishment. It was as if she was witnessing a seasoned master at work, every action a testament to his profound understanding of the craft.
Finally, Walt extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron, stepping back to observe the fumes rising from the cauldron. Silence enveloped the room as McGonagall approached, her eyes fixed on the potion's surface. It shimmered and swirled, a mesmerizing blend of colors and textures — a true masterpiece.
"This... This is truly something, Mr. White," Minerva whispered, wonder filling her voice. "To witness such skill and expertise from a man without magical knowledge or training — it exceeds anything I expected. Based on what I've seen today, I'm honored to offer you the position."
A radiant smile spread across Walt's face as he extended his hand, gratitude and elation shining in his eyes. Equally thrilled, McGonagall shook his hand.
"I'm looking forward to working with you, Professor McGonagall," Walt said, his voice filled with determination as he put his hat back on.
"Please, call me Minerva," she replied, her smile reflecting the warmth of their newfound partnership.
With that, Walt descended the grand staircase.