Remus John Lupin was about to find out what happens when you're desperate enough to walk into a job interview wearing robes that have been patched more times than he could count.
It had been exactly one month since he'd lost his last gig. Money was tighter than a Gringotts vault, and Hogsmeade wasn't exactly rolling out the welcome mat for a face everyone already recognized as "that werewolf guy." Even a job paying seven Galleons a week felt like a pipe dream.
"You here for the store manager position too?"
A young witch at the bookshop door stopped him and waved him toward a separate line from the regular customers.
"Actually, ma'am, I'm applying for the clerk job," he said politely.
"What's the difference? If you don't get manager, you can always drop down to clerk later."
She was already hustling off to corral the next applicant before he could answer.
Remus glanced around the shop. Every single shelf, every single table, was stacked with one thing and one thing only: books from the "Green's Notes Series." Big fat omnibus editions, slim pocket versions, subject-specific volumes—you name it, they had it. Nothing else. Not a single Quidditch annual or copy of Hogwarts: A History in sight.
A bookshop that sold only one title? That was unheard of. And then he figured out why.
These books were flying off the shelves faster than Firebolts on launch day.
He pulled a copy of the History of Magic volume off the nearest rack and flipped it open. Five minutes later he was completely hooked—new framework, crystal-clear explanations, the kind of stuff that made Binns's lectures feel like a troll snoring competition.
"You got anybody here with a 10¾-inch wand, cypress wood, unicorn hair core, aged thirty-two to thirty-three?" the young clerk suddenly shouted toward the crowd of applicants.
The other witches and wizards blinked, then started laughing. What kind of interview question was that?
Remus went very still. That was… basically his wand. Down to the quarter-inch.
"I… might fit the bill," he said slowly.
"Right this way, sir," the clerk replied with a satisfied grin.
They led him to a back room that looked like someone had robbed Dumbledore's office and added better snacks. Thick plush carpet, walls lined with books, a roaring fire, and a silver cauldron bubbling with pumpkin juice that somehow didn't match the fancy vibe at all.
Two kids—no, two young wizards—were waiting for him. One blond, one black-haired, both way too young to be running a business this successful. The blond one was scribbling on what looked like contracts; the dark-haired one was reading.
The blond looked up first. "Good to see you again, sir." Then, to the other kid: "He's all yours, Sean."
And just like that, Blondie was gone, leaving Remus alone with the black-haired boy.
Remus's stomach did a nervous flip. "Er… who exactly are you?"
The kid closed his book. "Sean Green."
Remus almost choked. That explained the shop name—Green's Bookshop. And the author credit on every single one of those bestsellers out front.
No wonder the History of Magic notes still had that slight first-year energy in places—brilliant new system, a few gaps only a professor would notice, but still light-years ahead of anything a normal eleven- or twelve-year-old could dream up.
"Me and my partners wrote them," Sean said casually. "We're still at Hogwarts, so we need someone to actually run the place day-to-day. Interested in being our manager?"
Remus's heart sank. He never lasted long anywhere. Sooner or later the full moon came, someone noticed, and he was out on his ear. But Merlin, he needed the job.
"I'm sorry, I have to decline—"
His voice came out rough, like he'd swallowed gravel.
These two had obviously gone through hell to sneak out of the castle just for this. Good kids, rule-followers; they probably wouldn't get another chance until the holidays. If he got fired two months in, they'd be stuck.
"May I ask why?" Sean said, perfectly calm.
"I'm… I'm a werewolf."
The words hung in the air. He braced himself for the usual: the flinch, the polite panic, the sudden "we'll be in touch."
Sean just tilted his head. "That's fine. I'll give you an extra couple days off each month—as long as you make sure everything's sorted before you go."
Remus stared. "…You do understand what that means, right?"
"Normally looks human, transforms into a wolf on the full moon, registered with the Werewolf Registry, knows the code about locking yourself up so you don't hurt anybody—yeah, I've read the pamphlets."
Remus opened his mouth, closed it again. "Kid, I appreciate the heart, but you clearly have no idea what having a werewolf on staff actually—"
Sean's bright green eyes didn't waver. "Werewolves are still wizards, aren't they?"
There was a copy of Hairy Snout, Human Heart sitting on the desk—the anonymous 1975 classic that had become required reading for anyone with a shred of decency by the nineties.
"You get a one-month trial," Sean added. "If you can't do the job, I'll still fire you. Fair?"
Remus let out a helpless little laugh. This kid was something else. "I'll do my best."
Later, when Justin slipped out of the shop with him, he kept shooting curious glances at Remus but didn't ask the obvious question. Sean, meanwhile, already had plans.
"We're hitting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes first, then Gringotts. You can Apparate, right?"
That way he wouldn't have to drag poor Manager Gret—who was currently being run ragged helping the Weasley twins expand their empire—into it.
"You're basically the Duke of the North now!" Fred loved to tease her.
"Double the pay, though!" George would chime in.
Gret's response was usually an annoyed huff, so yeah, Sean figured he'd leave her alone for today.
"Of course," Remus said, pulling his threadbare robes a little tighter around himself.