Harry Potter: Syndicate of Heroes

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.