"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.