[21] The Salary He Didn't Earn

Dumbledore led him to the shore of the Black Lake. The water was dark and still. Only fish moved beneath the surface.

"Henry, you're a good boy."

Hall's scalp tightened. "Headmaster, please just tell me what you need."

"Hahaha. Your Head of House has been so busy lately, his dark circles have gotten much deeper."

"The Head of House doesn't have dark circles."

"Ahem. I'm getting old. I'd like to ask you a favour. You won't refuse, will you?"

"No, no, no." Hall jumped back. "Tell me what it is first. Then we can talk."

Dumbledore stroked his beard. "I'd like you to become a Potions teaching assistant. Help Severus teach the younger students."

Hall thought about it. With Quirrell injured, Defence Against the Dark Arts had been replaced by other subjects — mostly Potions. Snape was overwhelmed.

"Could you serve as his assistant?"

Easy work. Extra income. I can do this.

Dumbledore led him to the shore of the Black Lake.

"Headmaster—" Hall began.

But Dumbledore was already prepared. "What are your conditions? I've noticed you're using a secondhand wand. How about a new one?"

Hall was stunned. Dumbledore had noticed. In the wizarding world, everyone had their own destined wand. But the Weasley family couldn't afford one for each child — they inherited them. Ron used Charlie's old wand. Percy used Bill's.

A wand that didn't choose you couldn't unleash your full potential.

"Thank you for the gift, Headmaster." He accepted first.

"About the teaching assistant salary..." Dumbledore's tone was uncertain. "A hundred Galleons per lesson?"

Hall's mind raced. Hogwarts salaries were higher than he'd imagined. He did the maths: first through third years, two houses per lesson, two lessons per week per house, plus the extra lessons from Quirrell's absence.

Thirty-six lessons a week. Three thousand six hundred Galleons.

Nearly ten thousand a month. Hogwarts is rich.

He glanced at Dumbledore's expression. The old man looked guilty — which meant this price was low for a Hogwarts professor.

"Headmaster, as you know, between my coursework, research, and Quidditch training, my time is extremely tight."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "What do you think is a suitable price?"

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on NovelPhoenix. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Hall held up two fingers. "Two hundred per lesson."

"Deal."

Too easy. I asked for too little.

The Headmaster's offer caught him off guard.

Hall asked for a week's wages in advance.

Seven thousand two hundred Galleons. His hands were shaking. If he were alone in his dorm, he'd cover his bed with them and roll around.

[Ding]

Available Galleons: 7,578 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 23 Knuts

"Upgrade Potion Making talent to A-Rank. Upgrade Charms talent to B-Rank. Learn Felix Felicis, Veritaserum, and Venomous Tentacula Juice. Learn the Immobilising Charm, the Trip Jinx, and the Leg-Locker Curse."

Now that he was a teaching assistant, he couldn't be looked down on. His B-Rank potion talent was equivalent to Snape's — just lacking experience. He'd compensate with higher rank.

He also needed those spells. Scabbers had been on his mind. Through the Marauder's Map, he'd watched the rat move through Hogwarts pipes, fed by house-elves, sleeping in a warm Gryffindor bed.

Hall knew Peter Pettigrew would escape if given half a chance. He'd done it before — escaped his cage, found Voldemort, resurrected the Dark Lord.

Not this time. I'll immobilise him. Keep him locked up.

[Ding — Panel Update]

A-Rank Abilities: Disguise Mage (Upgradeable), Potion Making (Complexion-Cleansing Draught, Squib Restoration Potion, Radiant Glow Potion, Smooth Hair Potion, Slimming Draught, Joy Potion, Felix Felicis, Veritaserum, Venomous Tentacula Juice)

B-Rank Abilities: Spells (Patronus Charm, Basic Transfiguration Charm {Self-Learned}, Petrificus Totalus, Finite Incantatem, Silencio, Immobilising Charm, Trip Jinx, Leg-Locker Curse)

Available Galleons: 1,518 Galleons, 6 Sickles, 23 Knuts

He asked for a week's wages in advance.

Hall had been a teaching assistant for a month. At first, the students were sceptical — how could someone who'd only been at Hogwarts a few months teach older students? Now they greeted him as Professor William.

He rubbed his temples. He now understood why Snape always wore a stern expression. If he didn't, these students would fly to the heavens.

Literally. This is a magical world.

The second-years were fine, but the third-years kept coming up to the podium to pinch his cheeks. Eleven was too young. Pretty girls saw him and just wanted to squeeze.

No affection. But plenty of money.

His focus remained on the Squib potion. The teaching assistant job was temporary — until Quirrell recovered or Dumbledore found a new Defence professor.

And then he had an inspiration.

Scabbers. Peter Pettigrew. An Animagus.

Animagi in their animal form were non-magical — purely animal. Unless they transformed back. If the Animagus form possessed magic, the potion would truly be a success.

I'm being kind-hearted. Giving Peter Pettigrew a chance to atone.

Hall smiled.

A month passed in a blur of lessons.

In Dumbledore's office, Quirrell sat hunched on the sofa, his voice hoarse.

"Headmaster, everything I've told you is true." His injuries were fully healed — wizarding medicine was thorough. "He said it himself. He said I was a servant of You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore listened without expression.

"But think about it — why would the Dark Lord want a cowardly, incompetent servant who smells of garlic? He's the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore's mind drifted. He remembered Tom Riddle. The boy had always feigned friendliness at school, but the contempt beneath it was unmistakable. Someone that arrogant wouldn't think much of Quirrell.

"Headmaster, think about it. Ever since that child arrived at Hogwarts, hasn't disaster followed disaster?" Quirrell leaned forward, his voice urgent. "Such talent. And from Slytherin. It doesn't seem natural."

He didn't need to finish the sentence. Dumbledore's eyes flickered — a moment of hesitation.

---