I ran through an open plain in Africa, watching the animals around me. A family of lions basked on a large rock formation, the cubs chasing each other’s tails as the adults napped. A herd of gazelles stood by a large pond drinking, while a flock of flamingoes picked around in the centre of the pond. Far to my left, a large purple elephant trumpeted rhythmically.
A purple elephant…
Shit!
My eyes popped open: it was already ten past five. I rolled out of bed and raced into the bathroom, pulling off my pyjamas as I went. I jumped into the shower and rushed through shampooing and scrubbing down, then toweled off and fairly leaped into the lilac turtleneck and black slacks I would wear that day. I glanced at the clock again “ it was nearly six. I had only an hour before I needed to leave. My hair would not be dry for a while yet, and I was too scared of melting it to use a Heating Charm.
After eating breakfast and brushing my teeth, I put my empty wallet into my bag with my robes, looked around for anything I had missed, and left the flat, locking the door behind me.
I arrived at The Leaky Cauldron just as Tom the landlord was unlocking the front doors at seven-thirty. “May I help you?” he asked as I swept past him.
“I’m just going to the Weasleys’,” I called over my shoulder. I took a sharp right into the loo and pulled my black uniform robes on over my slacks and sweater. Once again I was forcibly reminded of the weight I’d lost since leaving Hogwarts.
I looked in the mirror and cringed. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to get it in some kind of order. Without thinking, I first pulled it into a ponytail. I don’t know why; maybe my Hogwarts robes had made me forget about the last year. Then I turned to inspect the ponytail, and the scar across the back of my neck brought me back to reality. I finally ended up with my hair mostly down, so it covered my neck, but with just enough up to keep it out of my face.
I left the Leaky Cauldron, tapped on the correct brick above the trash bin behind the pub, and strolled down Diagon Alley. I kept trying to pull my mind away from the scar, and the evening I’d become its owner, but it just kept returning. It was my last night working at the Kneazle Paw, pouring drinks for a few of our regulars. Larry and his mates were drunk, of course “ were they ever not drunk? “ and sitting at the bar behind me. Larry was particularly cross that night because I hadn’t sat on his lap when he asked me to.
I was handling the drinks for two boys who probably weren’t old enough for them, one blonde and pointy-faced, and the other dark-skinned. Larry decided it was time for his next round, and he tapped his bottle on the counter to tell me so. When I didn’t listen right away, he got my attention by throwing the bottle at me.
I managed to get myself out of these thoughts just as I reached Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. I smoothed one hand over my hair, straightened my robes, and walked inside.
One of the twins “ was it George? No, Fred, I decided, as he grinned at me “ was standing on a tall ladder by the window display, hanging a banner that advertised a sale on Harry Potter’s birthday.
“Morning, Verity,” Fred said warmly.
“Morning, Mr. Weasley,” I answered.
He checked his watch. “You’re early,” he said, somewhat surprised.
I smiled at him. “Yes, well, I thought it might be a good idea.”
Fred climbed down off the ladder and brushed off his palms on the front of his robes. “Why don’t I show you how to clock in, and then you can get started?” he suggested.
I shrugged good-naturedly. I grinned at him, trying to push as much charm as I could into the expression. “Sounds great.”
“Great,” Fred said. He led me back through the shop, winding through shelves and displays. We reached the register. Behind it was a wooden door, plainer than I would have expected for the office of a Weasley twin. Fred went through without hesitation; I paused, but he beckoned me through.
George looked up from his desk, apparently halfway through listing inventory. “Morning, Verity,” he said pleasantly.
“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” I replied, trying not to sound too eager.
Fred gestured at a table next to the door. “This is where you’ll clock in each day. “ He pulled a card from a drawer and wrote my name on it with a quill. His handwriting was compact, slightly messy, with only minor embellishments “ the kind of writing you’d expect to see on a diagram of some great invention. “Just tap this with your wand when you come and go, and it’ll automatically record the time.” He pointed at the wall behind me. I turned and saw several hooks in a row. “You can hang your cloak and bag there.”
“What’re you going to have her do, Fred?” George asked.
“Well, I was thinking that since we’ve received that new shipment “ “
“Of love potions, yes, she could place those in “ “
“The window, I was thinking, since they’re a ““
“New product, right, and maybe we should feature them.”
George shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”
I glanced between them, slightly flabbergasted. “Do you two always do that?” I asked.
They exchanged a look and laughed sheepishly. “Yeah,” George replied. “I’ve heard it can ““
“Get quite irritating,” Fred finished.
I grinned. “I don’t mind it.”
Fred smiled back. “Good. Come on, let’s get you started.”
He took me to the storeroom in the very back of the store. He handed me a large box. Despite its volume, the box wasn’t that heavy.
“I thought you made all your own products?” I asked.
“Oh, we do,” he answered, sounding surprised at my question. “That is, we formulate everything and make prototypes for testing. A workshop in Lancashire mass-produces some of the more time-consuming things. Love potions, for instance.”
I nodded. “I see.”
“You need to put these on display in the front window. We’re not expecting it to look incredible, just make it look nice.”
“Okay,” I said. I turned and left the storeroom, weaving through shelves. I was very careful not to knock any products off shelves with my large box. Finally I reached the large front window. I set the box down and examined what I had to work with. Not much; the entire windowsill was covered with red velvet, but there was very little decoration apart from that. I opened the box and pulled out one of the small bottles packaged therein. I set it on the windowsill and examined it skeptically. Did they really expect me to make an impressive window display out of a piece of velvet?
I stood there a minute, trying to decide what to do. Should I go and tell them I couldn’t do it? No, I decided immediately; they already had enough doubts about me.
I strode back through the shop to the storeroom. More boxes of products were stacked around the walls, but a glimmer of silver in one corner caught my eye. I crossed the room and carefully removed boxes from the corner, uncovering a tiered silver display stand. Jackpot!
I restacked the boxes and carried my display stand into the main area of the shop. I placed it in the free space of the window, next to the Pygmy Puff cage, then arranged the bottles in the box on the tiers. The lightest pink bottles, “WonderWitch’s Desirous Daydreams”, went on top, a magenta shade (“WonderWitch’s Flirtatious Fantasies”) on the middle tier, and bottles with scarlet labels (“WonderWitch’s Lusty Loving”) on the bottom tier. A smaller box was in the bottom of the box that had held the potions; I opened it and then scattered the contents, tins of “WonderWitch’s Ten-Second Pimple Remover”, on the velvet around the tiered display.
A wooden floorboard creaked behind me. I turned to see Fred approaching through the shelves. “Hello, Mr. Weasley,” I said.
“Hi, Verity,” he replied. He stood beside me and examined my display. “Well done. Very well done; I’m impressed.”
I grinned. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley.”
“We’re going to refill the storeroom soon,” Fred said. “Would you distribute cases of the products throughout the store, on the shelves above where they’re kept, please? Get the storeroom as empty as you can.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I worked on this for several hours, as the store opened and the twins began their business day. People came into the shop in spurts; from my perch atop a ladder, I watched the trends of people coming and going. At noon, just as I was finishing up, there was a lull in the crowd. I descended the ladder and went to the storeroom, emerging with the last boxes, which held Decoy Detonators.
By now, I had learned the placement of most of the products; these were in a smaller, back room of the shop. I grabbed the ladder from the shelf where I had left it and awkwardly carried the boxes and the ladder to the back room.
I had just placed the first box of Decoy Detonators and was going down the ladder for the other when it happened. The accident I had been dreading all day. I stepped on the hem of my robe, slipped on the rung of the ladder, and fell, grabbing wildly for the ladder. It seemed to take an eternity to fall a few feet.
I landed squarely on the box of Decoy Detonators. They exploded under me, rocketing off in all directions, letting off a deafening cacophony of trumpet blasts. I suppose I must have screamed; one of the Decoy Detonators got trapped in my hair and kept trying to escape, pulling hair out by the root and shooting off sparks.
Two pairs of pounding feet echoed on the floorboards of the shop. The twins raced into the back room. On the floor, I groaned. I was about to be fired, I knew it. Fired after one morning.
Instead, both twins surprised me. “Are you okay?” they asked in unison. Fred reached down and helped me to stand; then George patted me on the back.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped. “I slipped on the ladder and fell “ I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Fred said. “It was an accident.”
George didn’t say anything, but just looked at me.
**
We took a lunch break, at least the twins did “ I just tried to stay out of the street for the time being. Something told me that yesterday hadn’t been my last encounter with Larry. I went into Flourish & Blotts and spent the time looking at books, on occasion pulling a linen- or leather-bound volume off the shelf and wishing I had the money to buy it.
When I returned to the Weasleys’ shop, I knew immediately that something was wrong. A tension hung in the air that hadn’t been there when I arrived that morning.
I walked back to the office, just in time to hear George snap, “She’s a liability, Fred! She destroyed ten Galleons’ worth of merchandise just this morning.”
“But look at the job she did on that window display,” Fred insisted. “Besides, you’ve never fallen off a ladder?”
There was a long pause. Finally George replied, “Fine. We’ll keep her on, but if I see her screw up again…”
Suddenly, the door opened and Fred left the office. I just stood in front of the counter, my eyes wide as Galleons.
Fred stopped short, also looking shocked. “Oh “ hello, Verity.”
“Hello, Mr. Weasley,” I replied, my voice shaking.
Fred simply stood there a moment. Finally, he asked, “Did “ did you hear any of that?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
George appeared in the doorway behind Fred. His face didn’t assume Fred’s shocked expression, but his eyebrows did contract sharply. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, Verity,” he said. “We don’t have any plans to ““
“”dismiss you,” Fred finished, recovering his composure. “The incident with the Decoy Detonators this morning “
“Was disappointing, yes, but everyone makes mistakes,” George said. I noticed with some irritation that he was quite a lot more forgiving than he had been hardly a minute or so ago.
I smiled. “Well, that’s a relief,” I said. The steadiness of my own voice surprised me.
“Why don’t you come in and get back on the clock, then we’ll find you something to do,” George suggested.
I nodded and stepped past Fred toward the door. George walked back into the office; I followed. As I leaned over the table that held the time cards, a lock of my hair fell over my shoulder. I began to brush it back, until I noticed that the ends were charred.
I turned to face the twins. “Does this ever happen to you?” I asked, holding up the charred bit of hair.
Fred laughed lightly. “Yeah, actually. Bit of an occupational hazard.”
I shrugged, not letting on how much this had shocked me, or how much the loss of my hair meant. “Guess I’d better get used to it, then.”
Fred nodded. “Come find me when you’re ready; I’m sure I’ll have something for you to do.” He turned and left the office.
I hung up my bag on my hook as George returned to his desk. I heard his pen scratching behind me; then he muttered, “Two forty-seven plus two twenty-six…”
“Four hundred seventy-three,” I said automatically.
He looked up at me. “What?”
I shrugged. “Two hundred forty-seven plus two hundred twenty-six is four hundred seventy-three.”
“Can you always do that?” he asked. I made a motion somewhere between a nod and a shrug. “What’s six hundred thirteen plus three ninety-two?”
“One thousand five.” I spoke with more confidence than I ever had around George.
He took a second to figure it out, then smiled at me. “Wait here. I’ve got to tell Fred.”
He swept out of the office. I heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe I wouldn’t be getting the bag after all.
The Shopgirl by Apollonious
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks so much to Elene (coolcatelly) for her wonderful job beta-ing this.
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