0013 The Office

Words : 2162 Updated : Sep 10th, 2025

Adrian didn't like empty offices—the barren walls, the hollow echoes that followed every footstep, and the detached atmosphere that were in such spaces left him feeling uncomfortable. Fortunately for him, he had come well-prepared for this situation, carrying with him a a direct doorway to his own magical plantation. He casually tossed his briefcase on the ground, where it landed steadily. A few seconds later, the briefcase lid automatically popped open with a soft click and its shell began to rapidly expand and stretch with a series of mechanical-sounding clicks expanding vertically to form that familiar door. As the door stabilized, Devil's Snare vines began to slowly emerge from beneath Adrian's robes. Adrian noted with satisfaction that the sections that had been severely burned away few hours ago had completely regenerated. The new grown vines appeared even more robust than before. Adrian casually lifted one particularly long vine between his thumb and forefinger, examining it gently. "Hmm, recovering nicely," he murmured. Although Devil's Snare had self-regenerative properties and could repair itself quickly after sustaining injury, this extraordinary ability came at a considerable cost. That cost manifested as a significant drain on Adrian's own magical power, as the symbiotic connection between wizard and plant meant that his personal magical reserves fueled the accelerated healing process. Fortunately, Adrian had abundant magical reserves, which allowed the Devil's Snare to recover so rapidly. After confirming its condition, more than a dozen Devil's Snare vines slowly extended through the door. Adrian stepped to the side, leaning against the cool stone wall with his arms folded across his chest. His expression remained calm and contemplative as he observed the vines busily moving in and out of the doorway, their purpose becoming apparent as they began transporting his belongings from the plantation into his new office. The Devil's Snare worked with amazing efficiency and surprising gentleness, carefully manipulating objects that would have required several strong muggles to move. The vines carefully brought out a pile of items: a dark wooden desk, a high-backed chair covered in dragon hide, two brand-new ebony bookshelves... Moments later, Adrian surveyed the completely transformed office with undisguised satisfaction and gave an appreciative nod. "Indeed," He murmured to himself, "bringing the Devil's Snare had been the right decision—such labor-intensive work should be left to it." Before departing from Hogwarts, Adrian decided to make one final visit to Professor Kettleburn's office. At this hour, Professor Kettleburn was likely still somewhere within Hogwarts. However, when Adrian arrived at the office, he found only a note on the desk. The note read: [ By the time you read this letter, I will have departed for the Romanian Dragon Reserve. Do you remember the female female dragon I fostered there? She has finally laid an egg after many years of careful breeding attempts, and I must hurry over to assess the situation.] Adrian nodded to himself. This was indeed Professor Kettleburn's style; he had always valued his dragon, and it wasn't surprising that he would personally make the trip for a dragon egg. For Adrian, however, this was genuinely unexpected news—dragons laying eggs wasn't a common occurrence in captivity, requiring precise conditions and careful handling to achieve. Moreover, Adrian knew about Professor Kettleburn's fostered dragon; they had hatched it together from an egg many years ago. He hadn't expected the creature would already be at the age to reproduce. Adrian reflected with a touch of sentimentality as memories of those days flooded back. After carefully refolding the note along its original creases and placing it in an inner pocket of his robes for safekeeping, Adrian decided to follow Professor McGonagall's earlier instructions and borrow the fireplace in the Headmaster's office for his departure. However, his destination wasn't his own shop, but rather the Leaky Cauldron—the bustling heart of wizarding London and an excellent place to find information or, in this case, potential employees. When Adrian emerged from the flames in the main fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron, it was approaching early evening. The familiar tavern was in its usual bustling state, the atmosphere was filled with the mingled scents of food, and various magical beverages. Oil lamps casted a warm, golden glow over the wooden tables, illuminating the diverse crowd of patrons. In one corner, a group of elderly wizards with impressively long beards were engaged in lively discussion over a game of wizard chess, the pieces were occasionally shouting strategic advice that was seriously ignored. At the bar, several wizards in business robes were relaxing after a day at the Ministry, their tired expressions were gradually softening as they sipped at glasses of Firewhisky. Adrian scanned the room briefly, his eyes taking in the scene without lingering on any particular person. He didn't pause to deliberately listen to any of the conversations instead walked directly toward the bar. The barkeeper, Tom, was hunched over behind the counter, his attention focused on polishing a smeared silver goblet that seemed resistant to his efforts. Hearing footsteps approaching, Tom looked up from his task and was visibly startled for a moment. "Welcome, what can I do for you this evening?" Adrian stopped at the bar. His gaze fell thoughtfully on the goblet in Tom's hand and spoke softly, "I need to find a helper to help tend to the medicinal herbs in my plantation," Tom's hands paused slightly in their polishing motion, and he looked up at Adrian. "Looking for a worker, are you?" "Yes," Adrian nodded, answering concisely. "Preferably someone with experience in herbology, who isn't afraid of physically demanding labor and can commit to staying at the plantation for a long period of time." Indeed, Adrian had specifically chosen to come to the Leaky Cauldron today to find an assistant to help care for the magical herbs in his plantation. Because he was soon going to take up his new position as professor at Hogwarts, Adrian was somewhat sure that he simply wouldn't have sufficient time or energy to properly tend to his plants. Although the Devil's Snare would certainly help care for itself and some of the other plants, they were still short-staffed. Tom thoughtfully tapped the counter, and after a moment, he bent down to retrieve a thick register from under the counter. He flipped through several pages occasionally mumbling to himself and shaking his head, while saying in a low voice: "Recently, there were indeed a few fellows who came through looking for work... all sorts pass through these doors, as you might imagine... but not many who'd be willing to stay at a remote plantation for long period of time. Most want city work these days, less isolation, more chances to spend their earnings... Actually..." he frowned as he reached the end of his records, "none at all who mentioned plantation experience specifically." Adrian wasn't particularly surprised by this disappointing but expected result; due to the sudden nature of his need, he hadn't realistically anticipated finding a perfectly suitable candidate immediately. "Then please post an announcement for me," Adrian said, making no effort to hide his slight disappointment. Tom closed the heavy register with a soft thud and casually returned it to its place under the counter, then looked up at Adrian with an expression that combined business acumen with a barkeeper's natural empathy. "Alright then," he nodded, reaching for a clean rag to wipe a spill from an adjacent section of the counter. "I'll put up a proper notice in the pub where the job-seekers tend to look, and I'll also keep a personal eye out for any suitable candidates who come through needing work." He casually patted the counter with his polishing cloth to emphasize his point and added in a lower, more soft voice, "However, I should warn you—there aren't many willing to commit to plantation work these days, especially for extended stays. Too isolated, and some medicinal herbs have... temperamental properties, shall we say." "I'm well aware of the challenges," Adrian responded, having mentally prepared himself for a potentially long-lasting search. "Which is precisely why I'm prepared to offer particularly generous compensation for the right individual." "Generous compensation?" Tom repeated with raised eyebrows, then smiled knowingly, revealing slightly uneven teeth. "Well now, that should certainly attract quite a few more interested parties." He wiped the counter and casually mentioned, as if it were an afterthought rather than a core part of the transaction, "The fee for posting the announcement is twenty Galleons." "Twenty Galleons?" Adrian gave Tom a thoughtful look. This price was a bit higher than he had initially expected for a simple job posting, but after brief consideration, it seemed reasonable given the circumstances. The Leaky Cauldron was, after all, an important central hub in London's magical community, with exceptionally fast information circulation and a constant stream of wizards, witches, and Muggle-born workers passing through its doors looking for employment opportunities. Tom's recommendation alone might be worth the price, given his extensive network of connections throughout wizarding Britain. Just as Adrian was about to reach into an inner pocket of his robes to take out the requested payment— "Wait—" A deep, slightly hoarse voice interjected from nearby interrupting Adrian's motion of taking out money. Adrian turned to locate the source of the interruption. His gaze fell upon a man sitting alone at a small table partially concealed in the shadows near the bar. The stranger wore a shabby brown robe with several barely noticeable patches that had been carefully but inexpertly mended and there was a half-finished glass of Firewhisky in his table. As Adrian observed him more carefully, he seemed to be a man perhaps in his early forties, and with that patch on his robe it clearly indicated that his economic situation wasn't good. Adrian's gaze lingered on the man for a moment, taking in details that might reveal something about his character and capabilities. There was a hint of weariness in his face. His hands, which were wrapped around the Firewhisky glass, were covered with calluses, and there were even noticeable traces of soil beneath his fingernails and in the creases of his knuckles. "I apologize for interrupting, sir," The stranger pulled his hood down slightly to fully reveal part of his face then said, "Forgive me for eavesdropping on your conversation, but sir, am I correct in understanding that you're searching for someone to care for medicinal herbs at your plantation?" Adrian examined the man up and down and then said, "Yes, I need someone who can stay at the plantation long-term to tend to magical herbs." After hearing this confirmation, the man nodded slightly as a thoughtful expression crossed his face before he slowly spoke: "May I perhaps try for the position?" His tone carried a hint of caution, as if he wasn't entirely confident to make such a request, yet believed himself capable of the work described. Adrian scrutinized him carefully, pondered for a moment, and then asked, "Do you have relevant experience?" "Some," the man nodded, saying quietly with neither embellishment nor false modesty. "I worked for Dogweed and Deathcap, a potion ingredient supplier in Hogsmeade, for several months last year, responsible for growing and harvesting some common herbs." Although Adrian didn't know this person's complete history, having someone volunteer so conveniently was extraordinarily fortunate given his urgent need for capable assistance. The traces of soil under the man's fingernails and the calluses on his hands provided physical evidence that supported his claim of agricultural experience. "Excellent," Adrian nodded decisively after completing his evaluation, then said, "You can come try the position for an initial assessment period. We can discuss the specifics of working hours, and salary structure later." Hearing Adrian's positive response, a barely perceptible look of relief flashed momentarily in the man's eyes. Tom, who had been observing their exchange smiled slightly and finished polishing the goblet in his hand. He casually commented as he placed the now-gleaming silver piece on a shelf behind the bar, "Looks like you've found your worker rather more quickly than expected, so I won't need to post the announcement after all." Adrian softly said "Mm," and returned the Galleons he had been about to pay Tom back to his pocket. "That's good fortune for both of you, then," Tom shrugged, his face showing no disappointment at the lost commission. He placed the polishing cloth under the counter and moved away to attend to a group of newly arrived patrons who were calling for service from the end of the bar. Adrian didn't say more but turned to the man and asked, "What's your name?" "Remus Lupin." 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0013 The Office

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