Right, so this is in no way meant to be a serious story. I was just reading Harry Potter and got this idea stuck in my head, then decided to type it up and see what I got. I kinda like it and hopefully someone out there on the internet will too.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series, J.K. Rowling does. However, I do own Michael Smitt.

"Of course, the first Quidditch World Cup was open only to European countries and it ended up being between Transylvania and Flanders. Now it's interesting to note that, at the time, there were 700 fouls which a player could commit and they were all committed at that final game. As well as that, there were several new ones which had to be created. Non-Euorpean teams were only allowed to participate after a formal document was signed by the leader of each country and that was only in the 1600s. Another interesting thing to know is that the World Cup was originally an annual event up until 1862 when the Captain of the French team requested more time in between for players to prepare. After a lot of discussion at the International Office of Sports, it was decided that they would occur every four years. You see, four was considered the average number of-"

"Michael! Are you being paid to talk about Quidditch or to serve drinks? Get back here!"

Michael Smitt looked up at the two blonde girls to whom he had been talking and smiled apologetically. "Sorry ladies, it seems our conversation has been cut short. It was a pleasure meeting you both, I hope we see each other again."

"It was nice to meet you Michael," the shorter of the girls smiled while the other merely giggled. With one last wink, Michael pushed himself to his feet and walked back to the bar.

"Sorry, Tom," he said to the barman, taking the drinks which had been set out. "They were talking about the Quidditch World Cup so I thought I should enlighten them."

Tom shook his head and sighed. "Mike, what you do in your own time is up to you," he said. "But I would prefer it if, during your work hours, you focussed on the job at hand. Those are for table six. Off you go."

Tom's concern was well founded. The Leaky Cauldron had always been a popular pub, but that evening it was particularly busy and all the tables were taken. If the waiter were to sit and have conversations with every woman who caught his eye then the drinks would never get served.

Sometimes Tom wondered why he kept that boy on staff. It wasn't that he was a particularly good waiter, quite the opposite in fact. He quite often forgot someone's order and then dropped entire trays of food all over the floor when he was serving them. That and he kept taking breaks to chat up whatever attractive female was in the bar that evening. No, if it was anyone else than they would have been sacked months ago. It was just that... Well there was something about Mike which made him likeable. Maybe it was the cheeky grin he always wore, or maybe it was the jokes he kept coming out with. Perhaps it was the fact that he could sit for hours and explain the story behind each of his many tattoos and piercings. Maybe it was the fact that, no matter how little money Michael had in the bank, he still managed to get enough hair gel to make his hair stand in ordered spikes all over his cranium. Whatever it was, Tom wasn't about to cut the boy off with no other income. Not yet, anyway. Maybe if the boy did something really bad, but not before then.

"Good evening, Tom," a familiar voice said, making the barman turn.

"Hello Professor Dumbledore. What can I get for you?" Tom asked with a gummy smile. He started pulling out bottles and merrily chattered to the headmaster, quite forgetting everything going on around him for a brief moment.

After a minute, Professor Dumbledore looked up from his glass of oak-matured mead and said, quite calmly, "Why Tom. I do believe that young waiter of yours has been jinxed. Perhaps you should see to him."

"What?" Tom said, looking up just in time to see a figure at the back of his pub fall flat on his face and remain motionless on the floor. The tray Michael had been holding fell to the ground and all of the things he had been carrying shattered, sending waves of glass, china, food, and liquid out across the room. Muttering a swear under his breath, Tom moved out from behind the bar to find the culprit.

"Alright now, who did that?" Tom said, eyeing the surrounding people. He leant down and, pointing his wand at the back of Michael's head, muttered, "Finite Incanatem." With a gasp, the young waiter pushed himself up to his knees and clutched at his nose which was bleeding profusely.

Helping the boy get to his feet, Tom eyed the surrounding crowd. "Now, I don't want to know the reason why somebody would perform a body bind curse on this young gentleman, but-"

"He was making eyes at my girl," a burly man nearby said. Tom turned his eye on him. A tall, thick shouldered man with his arm around a small, red-headed women. The girl was blinking her large eyes at Michael rather a lot in Tom's view and frankly he could see why he would get the wrong idea.

"Be that as it may," Tom said, pointing a finger at the man. "But I do not condone hexing my staff members. This is a respectable establishment and I do not permit duelling. Please take your lady friend and leave."

"You can't do that. I'm a paying customer."

"I reserve the right to refuse service to anybody," Tom snapped, turning his back. "Louisa, can you get rid of that mess? Thank you. Come on Mike, let's get you cleaned up. Episkey." He lead the young man into a small room behind the bar and sat him down on one of the stools there. Mike looked up at him with bleary eyes. His face was covered in blood and he seemed to have some glass fragments in his hair. Sighing, Tom vanished the glass as Mike sat dumbly on the stool.

"Care to explain what happened?" Tom asked after a moment or two.

"I didn't know he was her boyfriend," Mike responded quickly. "And the only reason I was looking at her like that was because she was looking at me first. I know what bedroom eyes are and she was looking at me with them. I winked back and next thing I know that guy had pulled his wand on me." He groaned and rubbed at his arm. "I tell you, people are crazy these days. Why'd he have to go and hex me? I didn't even do anything."

"Knowing you, you were about to," Tom said, shaking his bald head. He wished he could say this was the first time a customer had jinxed Michael, he really did. Yet again, he asked himself why he kept the boy on staff.

"Well, thanks Tom. Sorry for the bother I caused," Mike said, getting to his feet. Some of the carefully organised spikes of his hair had come out of order and he stood correcting them for a second or two. "I'd better get back out there."

"Oh no," Tom said, grabbing Mike's shoulder. "I think you've caused a bit too much trouble for tonight. Go home now, come back tomorrow and get an early start. I think that would be the best thing for all involved."

Michael's baby blue eyes widened at his employer's words, then he hung his head. It had been a long night. Perhaps it would be better if he just left now and came back the next day. Wishing Tom goodnight, he pulled off the apron which was his uniform and headed out into the bar. Most people there looked at him with concern and several men stepped in front of their girlfriends, almost as if they expected Mike to leap on them. He rolled his eyes and headed towards the door. He was halfway across the room when he felt a hand on his arm and turned to find himself face to face with the smaller of the two blonde women from earlier on.

"It was so awful of that man to do that to you," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. Behind her, the taller girl was nodding. "It's such a shame you have to leave."

Mike looked from one girl to the other, then back again. Finally, he smiled. "Oh, don't worry about me," he said. "I just feel sorry for that poor woman who's in a relationship with such a violent man. I believe one hundred percent that violence is never the answer, don't you?"

The two girls nodded sincerely. Violence was certainly not the answer. Never. They quite agreed that Mike had been perfectly innocent. He was so sensitive too, not to curse the man who did it for fear of emotionally damaging the girl. Well yes, they of course understood that he didn't want the girl from before to be frightened. That certainly wouldn't do. And yes, getting out of that noisy pub to a quiet muggle place which Michael knew sounded perfectly lovely.

From his position behind the bar, Tom watched as the young man who had been embarrassed and covered in blood a minute before left the pub with a young blonde on each arm. Shaking his head, he turned to take an order from a customer.

"I haven't seen that chap in here before, Tom," Professor Dumbledore remarked, looking at the door through which Mike had just left. "When did you take him on?"

"Oh, only a couple of months ago, Professor," Tom replied. "He came in here with a resume and asked for a job. I hadn't the heart to say no. Apparently he's been asking about a lot of places, but nobody would take him on."

"Really? Why's that."

"Er, well I'm not sure he'd be too happy I told you," Tom said, glancing round the room. "He's a bit touchy about the subject. Still, I don't imagine you'd judge him or nothing, Professor. You see, he's found it hard to get a job in the wizarding world because... Well, because he's a squib."

"I see. Yes, people can be rather prejudiced about those things, can't they?"

"My thoughts exactly, Professor. It's a shame, because he's a bright lad. You should have seen that resume he brought in. He'd never gone to Hogwarts, but apparently the muggle school he went to was very prestigious. I'd never heard of it myself and I can't remember it now to save my life. It seems his sister went to Hogwarts though and she lent Michael all of her school books which he read when he was at school. I'm not sure how, Professor, but it seems he taught himself everything in those textbooks. Can you believe, he got nine OWLs, and seven NEWTs? Almost all of them Outstandings at that. They were only the theoretical papers of course, but the very idea is extraordinary, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed," Professor Dumbledore said with a nod. "I don't suppose you remember what he got those NEWTs in, do you?"

"Well now, let me see," the barman mumbled, scratching his chin. "I'm almost certain one of them was in Charms. Then there was Care of Magical Creatures, because he was helping to get rid of these giant spiders which got into the kitchen last week. Um... Ancient Runes was one of them. Transfiguration. Potions. Arithmancy. Now, there was one more, what was it?" He stood in thought, counting off his fingers. What was the seventh? Finally, he recalled it and snapped his fingers at the memory. "Yes, it was History of Magic. Really, now how could I forget that? The boy hardly shuts up about his history. Everything anyone mentions, he always has to explain the history behind it. Why, just the other day I was commenting on the price of mead and he launched into this whole story about the price of corn causing riots in 1782."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore nodded, taking another sip of mead. "I must say, Tom, this boy seems a rather interesting person. What did you say his name was?"

"Michael, Professor. Michael Smitt, but he prefers to be called Mike."

"Michael Smitt. Well, I shall have to remember that name."