Employing the Extraordinary

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The tapping on the window near his bed didn't exactly wake Harry up that morning. Really, how could a soft noise like that, no matter how persistent, wake someone who hadn't really slept that night anyway?

Twisting his head while fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, Harry peered at the window as the world suddenly came into focus with the introduction of said glasses. As expected, there was an owl standing on his window ledge, peering in.

Throwing off his covers, Harry slid from the bed and padded across the short distance. The letter was quickly untied after the window had been slid open. The owl didn't even wait around for a response, taking flight as soon as the envelope was in Harry's hand.

As Harry retreated back to sit on his bed, he slit the envelope open to find a couple of pieces of parchment.

Dear Harry,

It was so good to hear from you and to know that you're doing well. And to be able to communicate with you like this after so many years is truly wonderful. I'm glad that you've finally started to settle down, even if it is so far away instead of here where you belong. Not that I don't understand why you're staying away, because I do, Harry and as much as I wish my best friend was closer so that I could see you and talk to you properly, I do understand.

If my calculations are correct – and they usually are (grins) – you should get this the morning of your Grand Opening. Congratulations and good luck! I'm certain that your ... is it a restaurant or a café or a pub, you seemed a little vague on that part? Well, whatever type of establishment best describes it, I'm positive that it's going to be a success.

I wish that I could be there to help you celebrate your big day, but I'm swamped at work at the moment. There's rumblings in the Wizengamot of someone wanting to reintroduce some of those vile werewolf laws that we've managed to get repealed and I need to be here to head it off.

I do have some vacation time up my sleeve and as soon as the situation here is under control again, I'll be taking it and coming out to see you. So, make sure that you stay put! No wandering off again. I'd be most annoyed if I turn up on your doorstep one day and you're not there to greet me. And you know that the consequences for annoying me can be quite severe. (grin)

Everyone here is doing well. Ron's still with the Cannons, playing keeper and there's talk that they'll even make it out of the bottom half of the table one of these years. Neville and Hannah seem to be very happy. Somehow, they're making the fact that one works at Hogwarts while the other works at the Leaky Cauldron work for them. Luna, of course, is off once again on one of her adventures for her imaginary creatures. To be honest, I'm surprised that you never ran into her while you were travelling, probably because you delved into the muggle side of the world as well as the magical, while Luna stays strictly off the beaten path.

Well, I'd better wrap this up, I'm sure that you've got a lot to do this morning to prepare for your grand opening. (I still can't believe that you're opening a food establishment of all things! You, in a kitchen, I just can't picture it, not after watching you for six years in potions.)

Once again, Congratulations!

All my love,

Hermione.

The smile that Hermione's letter brought to his face never disappeared all through his morning ablutions and as he began preparing for the day. He dearly wished that Hermione had been able to come for today – Merlin knew he'd been pestering her about it in every letter that he'd sent back for the past month – but it seemed that some things simply couldn't be helped.

As he emerged from the door that led to his apartment, Harry made sure to lock the door behind him with a colloportus – there was no need to tempt any customers into wandering where they weren't wanted. Besides, he could imagine the trouble he'd get in if someone got up there and discovered his magical knick-knacks or books, or worse yet, the fact that a number of the rooms were much bigger than they had any right to be.

His eagle eye very slowly scanned the enormous room, seeking out anything out of place or to see if something needed to be done. Just as he'd known it was, the room was perfect.

He'd put in a lot of hard work here and between the contractors that he'd hired and what he'd done at night with a bit of judicious magic, the place was unrecognisable from the vast, empty, dusty place that it'd been when he'd first seen it.

The long bar remained, now cleaned and highly polished. It was enhanced by a set of stools in front of it, just waiting for customers. Behind the bar, he'd had a bench and shelves installed, a bench that was now filled with coffee machines and machines for making milkshakes and smoothies and thick shakes and juices. The shelves were filled with glasses and mugs and bottles of various kinds.

Directly in the middle of the wall behind the bar, a window to the kitchen had been placed to allow ease of access for some meals to be passed through, not to mention the orders for the food in the first place.

Booths with polished oak tables and benches padded with deep red cushions lined one wall and across the front of the room in front of the large windows. A fireplace with a half grate had been installed on the remaining side wall. Above its mantle, a set of enormous stag antlers had been hung on the wall, adding a sense of not only atmosphere, but nostalgia whenever Harry saw them.

The rest of the room contained smaller tables and chairs that could be used separately or pushed together for larger groups to sit around.

With a nod of satisfaction, Harry strode across the room and behind the bar. Picking up the black apron, he quickly tied it around his waist before seeing to the final preparations for the (hopefully) coming customers. Coffee machines were started; kettles were filled; a whirl through the kitchen ensured that everything was ready in there to make the meals that he offered.

Finally, Harry came to a standstill. Everything was as ready as it could be. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was still a few minutes before he was due to open the doors. But a shrug was all it took to indicate that he had no problem opening early.

As he opened the doors, Harry couldn't help but look up at the sign that he'd hung the afternoon before.

To one side of it, a set of three animals stood proudly – a great stag in the centre, flanked by a wolf and a large, shaggy, black dog. And where once there may have been a rat at their feet, now the three stood in a field of white lilies. And in fancy, old English letters, the name of the business stood out in tall black letters: The Marauder's Den.

ooo00ooo

The Den was only marginally busy the afternoon of the second day after the grand opening, nothing that Harry couldn't handle by himself. He had vague hopes that business would pick up after school got out or the general workday finished for everyday people.

His day had been good, at least, he'd been happy with it. Customers had come in steadily throughout the day, their heads swivelling as they took in the old world feel of the restaurant cum cafe (he still wasn't sure exactly which description fit best). The woods and tables, chairs and booths seemed to be well liked; the fireplace in the corner caught a lot of interest and positive interest at that, judging by the comments that he'd managed to catch.

He'd just placed a two plates of black forest cake topped with fresh whipped cream in front of a pair of customers at one of the tables when the bell above the door jingled.

Harry looked up, a smile on his face to see a nervous-looking teen enter, a folder of some kind clutched protectively to her chest. The pair of straps around each shoulder indicated that she'd come straight from school.

Harry let his gaze sweep over the Den, taking in the dozen customers, before nodding slightly to himself as they all seemed relaxed and content, along with the fact that none seemed to need his attention. By the time that his eyes drifted once more towards the teen, it was to find her standing almost in front of him.

Judging by the way she was biting her lip, not to mention the way she seemed to be nearly hopping from foot to foot, Harry guessed that she was nervous for some reason. The instant that his eyes landed on her though, she stilled and seemed to almost suck in her courage along with a deep breath.

Harry's eyebrow rose at the blond-haired girl.

"How can I help you, Miss?" he asked.

"I was looking for the owner," she said and it was all Harry could do not to laugh at the way her words had almost jumbled over themselves with the speed that she'd spoken.

"You're in luck. You've found him," Harry replied.

The girl's eyes widened slightly and one hand came away from the folder still wrapped tightly to her chest in order to touch her hair and black headband, obviously checking her appearance.

"Good afternoon," she said, suddenly sounding very formal. "My name is Gwendolyn Stacy and I'd like to apply for a job here."

Harry blinked at the totally unexpected proposition. He hadn't even advertised for any help yet. But then, as he thought about it, he decided that it wasn't such a bad idea.

At the moment, it was just him running the Den and if, as he hoped, business started picking up, then he'd need the help – wait staff, a cook, perhaps even someone to help tidy up at the end of the day. And if he had all of that in place, then it'd be so much easier to explore North America like he'd done with all of the other continents.

"Well then, Gwendolyn Stacy, pull up a stool and tell me why I should hire you," Harry said, leaning on the bar.

The instant that she'd taken a seat, Gwendolyn placed her black folder on the bar before twisting it so that it was the right way up for Harry.

"Please, Mister ..."

"Potter, but just call me Harry," he supplied.

She smiled, then, bringing a sparkle to her blue eyes. "Harry, then. Please call me Gwen."

"As you wish, Gwen," Harry replied, opening up the folder in front of him.

As he flipped through the pages of academic records and certificates, Gwen proceeded to 'sell herself' to him as a prospective employee.

"As you can see from my records, I go to Midtown High School of Science and Technology where I am currently in Junior year. As my academic records show, I regularly rank as either the top or second top student in my year. I am very outgoing and have a high drive to learn and succeed at any task I set myself to."

"I see you've listed one of your referees as a Captain George Stacy. A relative?" Harry asked.

A slight tinge of red coloured her cheeks as she answered.

"My father."

"So why this job, Gwen? You'd most likely be a waitress here, although I must say that, if you got the job and seeing as how you'd be my first employee, the prospects of advancement are very good," Harry asked.

"My ultimate goal is to attend Empire State as a science major," Gwen explained. "Next year, I'm hoping to get an internship at Oscorp Industries, but as neither of those exactly pay anything, then I'll need a job. The Marauder's Den is nicely located between home, my dad's work and school, with Oscorp not that far away either. Plus, I like the feel of the place."

Harry nodded absently as he flicked through Gwen's resume once again. She was obviously very smart and motivated and despite her clear nervousness, was confident enough to come into an unknown place and to talk herself up in order to achieve her desires. It didn't hurt that Harry could see a little bit of Hermione in her personality either.

"I'll tell you what, Miss Stacy. If you've got a couple of hours free this afternoon, I'll give you a trial run. If it goes well and we're both happy, then we'll talk about pay rates and hours and whatnot."

"Really? That's brilliant! Yes. Yes, I've got the rest of the afternoon free. I mean, I don't have to be home until dinner and that's not until seven."

Suddenly, Gwen stopped and visibly composed herself.

"Thank you, Mister Potter," she said formally. "I accept."

"Excellent," Harry smiled and picked up the folder. "How about you put this somewhere safe in the kitchen – through that door, there. You'll find a spare apron on the rack to the left of the door. And when you're ready, come on back here and we'll get to work."

ooo00ooo

Two days was all that it'd taken after hiring Gwen Stacy for students to start filtering in to the Marauder's Den after school. That day, there'd been a grand total of four. The following day, the number of students in the Den from Midtown Science had doubled.

Now, a week later, the place seemed to be nearly packed with teenagers. And while there were still a number of adults dotted about the room, they were mainly confined to a couple of tables off to one side. The teens had claimed the booths that lined the walls and the stools at the long bar.

The noise level rose with the teen onslaught as well, but it was a sound that only made Harry smile, reminding him somewhat of the type of noise that he was once used to hear in the Great Hall at Hogwarts nearly every meal.

The loudest bunch was centred around a large blonde lad who Harry guessed played for the school's football team. The amount of laughter and jokes and friendly pushing and shoving in that corner was music to Harry's ears – it proved that the teens were comfortable here and comfortable teens were inevitably hungry and thirsty, something that every owner of a food place wanted.

The increase in customers, not to mention the amazing job that Gwen did every afternoon on her shift, prompted Harry to recruit a further two teens as wait staff. For now, he was still doing most of the work himself during the day, both cooking and serving, when the Den was less busy, but he had hopes that one of the two applicants that he was due to interview the next day would work out as a cook.

Weaving his way through the tables, he carried a large round tray full of drinks nearly above his head to keep it out of the way of careless elbows or waving hands and arms. A slight sticking charm didn't hurt to keep everything exactly where it was supposed to be either.

"Right. Who ordered a coke?" Harry asked, interrupting the largest group.

"Oi, Flash, your drink's here," one boy called out, catching the attention of the ring-leader.

"Cool. Thanks," the boy said, taking his drink.

"I've got two strawberry milkshakes," Harry continued, handing out the beverages at hands began waving for his attention.

When all that was left on his tray was a single drink, Harry moved on to the next table.

"I think this is yours," he said, placing the chocolate thick shake in front of the teen slumped at the table by himself.

As the mousy-brown head raised itself, Harry found himself staring down at an old-fashioned looking camera nestled between the boy's arms. Instantly, Harry was transported into the past to another mousey-haired boy with a camera that he'd once known.

Colin.

That kid'd been annoying as hell, but a good friend nonetheless. A brave kid with far too much energy and a fierce determination to follow his heart and his dreams. A determination that had led Colin to ignoring his elders and to sneak back into the middle of a war-zone. He'd died there in Hogwarts castle, one of many to fall that day.

It'd been years since Harry had thought of the tiny Gryffindor, but seeing this kid with a camera brought it all back. Slowly, Harry sank into the chair across from the boy.

"You any good with that?" he asked, nodding at the camera.

"I'm alright, I guess," the boy mumbled.

"What's your name, kid?" Harry asked.

"Peter. Peter Parker."

"It's nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Harry. I own this place," he replied, gesturing at the crowded room around him.

The boy, Peter, took an absent look around before focussing back on Harry once more.

"As I'm sure you know, we've not long opened and I haven't even had a chance to do any advertising for it yet. I was wondering if you'd be interested in taking some photos for me?" Harry asked. "I'd pay you for them, of course."

Peter blinked at him, looked down at his camera, looked up at Harry and blinked some more.

"Why me?" he eventually asked. "There's got to be a bunch of better photographers than me around."

"There probably are," Harry admitted. "But let's just say that you remind me of someone that I used to go to school with who also loved taking pictures. And his were quite good, almost professional quality, I'd say."

"Why don't you get him to do it, then?" Peter asked.

Harry had to swallow hard before he answered. "He died."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, it was a long, long time ago," Harry said. "But I'm betting that my old friend wasn't the only one to take some good pictures. So, what do you say, are you interested in earning a bit of cash and getting some exposure for what you can do with that camera of yours?"

Slowly, the corners of Peter's mouth turned up.

"Yeah, yeah, I think I'd like that," he said.


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