Chapter 13. Recruitment
Adrian Wesson did not like an empty office.
Fortunately, he always carried the door to the plantation with him.
He tossed the suitcase he had brought along onto the floor; it landed steadily.
A few seconds later, the lid sprang open of its own accord. The case's shell swelled and stretched, and at last became that familiar door.
The Devil's Snare's vines slowly poked out from beneath Adrian's robes; the sections that had been burnt a few hours earlier had already healed completely, and the new growth looked even sturdier than before.
Adrian lifted one vine at random and stroked it lightly.
"Mm. You've recovered well."
Although Devil's Snare could repair itself quickly after being injured, the price for that was Adrian's magic—lots of it.
Luckily, Adrian's reserves were ample, which was why the plant had recovered so fast.
Once he'd checked everything over, a dozen vines extended slowly through the doorway.
Arms folded, Adrian stood quietly to one side, watching the vines bustle to and fro.
A great heap of things came out under the Devil's Snare's care: a dark wooden desk, a high-backed chair upholstered in dragon hide, two brand-new ebony bookcases…
Moments later, Adrian looked over the refreshed office and nodded in satisfaction.
Bringing the Devil's Snare had been the right call—drudge work like this ought to be left to it.
…
Before leaving Hogwarts, Adrian paid another visit to Professor Kettleburn's office.
At this hour, Professor Kettleburn was probably still somewhere on the grounds.
But when Adrian arrived, he found only a note on the desk.
[By the time you read this, I'll be on my way to the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary. Do you remember the mother dragon I boarded there? She's finally Raid an egg. I must get there at once to verify the situation.]
So that was it. Adrian nodded.
Very much Kettleburn's style—he'd always made a fuss of that dragon. It was no surprise he'd go in person for the egg.
Even so, it was unexpected news for Adrian—dragons laying eggs was hardly an everyday occurrence.
And he knew that particular dragon: years ago, he and Kettleburn had hatched her together from an egg.
He hadn't thought it would already be time for her to lay one of her own.
Time flies, Adrian thought, a touch wistful.
He folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, then, as Professor McGonagall had suggested, borrowed the Headmaster's office fireplace.
His destination, however, wasn't his own shop—it was the Leaky Cauldron.
…
By the time Adrian stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, it was nearly evening.
Inside, it was the same old hubbub as ever. Witches and wizards sat in small groups around wooden tables, chatting.
Adrian swept a glance around without stopping, then strode straight to the bar.
Tom, the landlord, was hunched as he polished a silver goblet. Seeing Adrian approach, he blinked. "Welcome. What can I get you?"
Adrian halted at the counter, his gaze flicking to the goblet in Tom's hand, and said in a low voice, "I'm looking to hire a worker—to help tend the medicinal herbs in my plantation."
Tom's hands paused. He looked up at Adrian. "Hire a worker?"
"Mm." Adrian nodded, keeping it brief. "Someone with a little experience, not afraid of hard graft, and able to stay at the plantation for long periods."
That was why Adrian had come to the Leaky Cauldron today—to find help looking after the plants in his plantation.
With his new post at Hogwarts, he was worried he wouldn't have enough time to care for them himself. The Devil's Snare could help tend him and the other plants, but there simply weren't enough hands.
Tom tapped the counter, thinking. After a moment, he ducked down, rummaged beneath the bar, and pulled out a thick register. Flipping a few pages, he said as he scanned, "There were a few folks in here looking for work not long back… but not many keen on staying in a plantation long-term. Er… make that none."
Adrian wasn't surprised. This was short notice; he hadn't expected to find the perfect candidate at once.
"In that case, post a notice for me," he said, a little disappointed.
Tom shut the register and slid it back under the counter, then looked up and nodded.
"All right. I'll put a notice up here in the pub and keep an eye out for anyone suitable," he said, giving the counter a careless pat with the polishing cloth before lowering his voice. "But there aren't many who fancy plantation work—let alone staying there for long."
"I know," Adrian said—he had steeled himself for that. "I'll offer generous pay."
"Generous pay?" Tom echoed, then chuckled. "That will certainly bring them running."
He wiped the bar and added off-handedly, "Posting the notice will be twenty Galleons."
"Twenty Galleons?" Adrian gave Tom a considering look.
It was a touch higher than he'd expected, but the Leaky Cauldron was the hub of wizarding London. News moved fast here, and both wizarding folk and Muggle-born labourers looking for odd jobs were plentiful. Fair enough.
He was just reaching for his money when—
"Wait—"
A low voice from nearby cut him off.
Adrian turned and saw a man in a brown robe with half a glass of Firewhisky on the table before him. He was an older fellow—perhaps forty—with a patch sewn into his robe, which didn't speak well of his finances.
Adrian let his gaze rest on the man a moment. There was a hint of weariness in his face; his palms were callused, and there was still soil under his fingernails.
"Apologies, sir," the man said, tugging his hood back a little to show more of his face. "Sorry for listening in—but, sir, did you say you're hiring someone to tend cultivated medicinal plants?"
Adrian took the man's measure, then said, "Yes. I need someone who can stay at the plantation for long stretches and look after the herbs."
The man dipped his head. "May I try?"
There was caution in his tone, as if he wasn't entirely sure he could manage the work.
Adrian studied him, thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you have experience?"
"A little," the man murmured with a nod. "I worked for a potion-ingredients supplier for a few months—planting and harvesting the commoner herbs."
Adrian didn't know who he was, but as someone in need of help, he wasn't about to turn a willing worker away.
"Excellent," Adrian said at once. "Come and try. We can discuss hours and pay in detail."
At that, a barely perceptible relief flickered in the man's eyes.
Tom watched their exchange with a slight smile, dried the goblet in his hand, and said casually, "Looks like you've found your man. No need for my notice, then."
Adrian answered with a soft "Mm" and slipped the Galleons he'd meant for Tom back into his pocket.
"Very good," Tom said with a shrug. He didn't mind; he moved off from the bar to serve other patrons.
Adrian didn't say more. He turned to the man and asked, "What's your name?"
"Remus Lupin."
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