Chapter Text
Charlie Weasley had finally decided to retire. When he made the announcement they offered him his pick of reserves around the world. When he turned them down, they offered him directorship of the reserve of his choice. As tempting as that was, he’d still be doing the same work, just with more responsibilities, and he’d always preferred being on the front line with the dragons anyway. He could tell how desperate they were getting when they added several zeros to his already very cushy salary and asked him to be the liaison to the DRCMC. But a desk job where he’d be required to wear formal robes to work every day was the furthest thing away from what he wanted.
And what he wanted was to leave dragon keeping while he still had all of his limbs. Maybe 46 was considered young to retire in some fields, but he’d been a veteran keeper for half of his life. He could tell he was getting slower and magic could only do so much against the fire-breathing beasts who were literally made of the stuff. Staying active in the field in any way would only tempt him back for “just one more adventure” over and over again until it finally caught up to him. He loved his work, but he loved living even more.
The day he packed up his hut on the reserve and returned to England was bittersweet. He’d said goodbye to so many colleagues over the years, usually in a much more frantic, permanent way, though often with just as many tears shed. This didn’t hurt any less, but he knew he was making the right decision.
Even though his parents would welcome him at the Burrow, he had been living alone since the day he left Hogwarts and didn’t need his mother coddling him. He’d let a small flat sight unseen and apparated directly there after clearing customs. It would do fine as a base of operations while he decided what to do with the rest of his life.
He didn’t need money. In fact, he’d lost count of how many times his vault at Gringotts had been upgraded. Bill had approached him several months after the battle about investments, and Charlie had let his big brother manage his money for him. Most of Charlie's needs had been provided for by the reserve, so Bill’s expert management of his salary had culminated in a very nice nest egg - and Charlie knew a thing or two about eggs. He wasn’t quite as well off as some of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses had been in their heyday, but if he was careful, he never had to work another day unless he wanted to.
A few days later, he sat in his small flat debating his future. Travelling seemed trite after multiple visits to all of the reserves around the world over the years, and there were few occupations he was qualified for, despite his OWLs, NEWTs, and experience. He was pulled out of his musing by the sharp tapping of an owl at his window. Convinced the animal had simply gotten turned around or was looking for the previous tenant, Charlie let it in. But when he looked at the letter tied to its leg, he was surprised to see his own name written there.
Literally no one knew he’d returned, but there was something familiar about the green ink on the parchment. Taking it, he thanked the owl and turned the letter over in his hand, instantly recognizing the Hogwarts seal on the other side. Absently closing the window behind the owl after it flew off, he broke the seal and unrolled the letter.
Dear Mr. Weasley,
It has come to my attention that you have returned to England and may be looking for employment with which to fill your days during your retirement. As it happens, the Care of Magical Creatures position has not been held on a permanent basis for some years and I think you would be well suited to join our ranks. Enclosed is the salary information and a description of what would be expected of you. I must have your response no later than the beginning of August so that I might have enough time to secure another candidate should you decline.
Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Charlie shook his head in disbelief, curious how the crafty witch had known where to find him or even that he was available to be found. Opening the second sheet of parchment, his eyes passed over the salary information and landed on the Duties and Responsibilities header. It was the standard language, he imagined: preparing lesson plans and teaching courses, marking tests and attending faculty meetings. And at the very bottom were the words Upon successful completion of testing by the Department of Magical Games and Sports, you may also assume the duties of First Year Flight Instructor and Quidditch referee if you desire. The process will take approximately one year and will coincide nicely with Madam Hooch’s proposed retirement at the end of the school year.
He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that. She also knew how to sweeten the pot. Accepting would solve several of his issues. It would be a more permanent home than the flat. It would keep him busy. He would be far enough away from his mother's sight that he could comfortably live his life while still being close enough to keep her off his back. And finally, with the salary he wouldn't have to dip into his savings yet.
But did he want to teach? It would be an excellent use of the knowledge he’d gained, and he was pretty sure nearly every one of his nieces and nephews was currently attending Hogwarts, but he’d never seen himself as a teacher.