Tap, tap, tap...
I rolled over in bed and groaned. A deliver owl was tapping my bedroom window with one set of talons with a copy of The Daily Prophet in its beak. Sunshine was streaming through the window behind it, making the owl look black. Savoring the softness of my pillow while it lasted, with a great push, I swung my legs over the side of my bed. I stretched out my aching bones and sore muscles, took three knuts from my jeans pocket on the floor, paid the owl, and massaged my head.
I couldn’t afford this any longer.
Hogwarts had ended only a month ago, but I was still to find any work. Oh, sure, I qualified for a job at Gringotts, but who wanted to be locked up in a room with goblins all day? While handling precious jewels and vast sums of money seemed exciting to some people, I knew what it really was: boring. I also couldn’t stand working with goblins, which (regrettably) Gringotts was run by. I knew where I was destined to be. I belonged outside, with the sweet breeze kissing my cheeks and driving through my hair. I belonged outside, with the sunshine greeting me with light and warmth. I belonged outside, where I could be me.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a job for that, or else I would have already had it. I was running low on gold, and it would be too embarrassing to ask my parents for a loan. I had a small flat in Diagon Alley, with only a kitchen, a bedroom, and a tiny bathroom. However, it was the only thing I could afford…unless I started working. Being too choosy for a job was slowly killing me…and it would quickly kill me, if I ran out of money for food.
I sighed, picked up my pants and shirt off of the floor where I had left them last night, too tired to put them away properly. I folded both articles of clothing, and tried to smoothen out some wrinkles. I put the clothes on my desk, next to a clutter of picture frames with pictures of my family and friends. My eyes fell on a specific picture on my nightstand. It was me, with a handsome boy who had flaming red hair and freckles. His eyes were bright, laughing, and loving. I had my arm around him, also laughing. A glittering lake was show in the background, with us sitting by the edge, relaxing in the golden rays of the sun. The happy couple saw me and waved enthusiastically. While my picture-self was distracted with waving, the boy leaned forward and kissed me on the lips. Caught by surprise, I kissed him back. Then I pushed him away playfully. Finally, giggling at his (extremely cute) bewildered face, I leaned forward to resume the kiss I had just interrupted.
Charlie, my heart screamed. I missed Charlie most of all.
I still remembered our last date. We went out to dinner at a Muggle restaurant, a place we both were curios about. After we were seated, Charlie moved the candles to the side of the table and told me he had an announcement. When he told me that he was accepted for internship as a dragon keeper in Romania, I was more than a little hurt. How could Charlie, the person I truly loved most of all, be…leaving me? Well, perhaps not leaving me, but it wasn’t like I could stop by Romania for a goodnight kiss. I was about to open my mouth and tell him exactly what I thought, but I stopped myself.
This is his dream, I reminded myself. Don’t ruin it for him.
Swallowing all of my tears, all my sadness, and all my confusion, I exclaimed how happy I was for him and that he should go for his dreams…no matter what. He shouldn’t give up his dreams just for me. I plastered a fake smile on my face and told him how proud I was of him…which was true. I was proud, but I was also more heartbroken.
Charlie, relieved, got up, walked to my side of the table, and hugged me, which I was grateful for…if he hadn’t, he would have seen my tears. I calmed down quickly, so he never saw me start to cry. He knew what his dream was…so what was mine?
I pushed the thought out of my head “ I couldn’t think about that now. Plopping down on the wrinkled sheets of my bed, I carelessly flipped through the newspaper, ignoring articles on cauldron thickness and skimming through articles about the fund-raiser St. Mungo’s was holding. In a fit of rashness, I flipped the page too quickly and gave myself a paper cut. A small slit on my index finger quickly began to cry small droplets of blood. Cursing, I first shook my finger, spraying small drops of blood everywhere, and then wrapped it in my pajama shirt, too lazy to get my wand and heal the small wound. Looking at my newspaper, I saw that it was slightly stained by flecks of blood. A bloody “Help Wanted” ad in the corner caught my eye. It was so cleverly hidden, that I wouldn’t have seen it if it wasn’t blood-stained. I read the ad. My heart stopped beating, and I thought that I would faint. Re-reading it over and over again, my brain finally processed the message.
This was it…my perfect job.