Voldemort on Wall Street, Part 5: The New Assistant

An unofficial Harry Potter parody. Blackthorn Capital, its portfolio company, and the office characters in this story are fictional.

You can read all of the previous chapters here: Voldemort on Wall Street

Previously, Voldemort faced anonymous feedback and Ethan’s career ambitions in Part 4: The Performance Review.”

The first applicant bowed.

Lord Voldemort looked up from the résumé.

At last.

“Please rise,” Karen said.

The applicant remained bent at the waist.

Voldemort gave her a small, satisfied glance.

“What is your greatest strength?” he asked.

“Loyalty, my lord.”

“And your greatest weakness?”

“Excessive loyalty, my lord.”

Karen put down her pen.

“Can you explain a pivot table?”

The applicant slowly straightened.

Voldemort looked at the résumé again.

He was beginning to understand how he had ended up with his previous organization.

The Interview Panel

Following Ethan’s promotion to operations manager, Voldemort had spent three days reviewing applications for a new executive assistant.

The advertisement asked for intelligence, discretion, and a willingness to challenge poor decisions.

Privately.

Karen had removed that last word.

“People may need to correct you in meetings.”

“They may need other employment.”

She had left the advertisement unchanged.

Now they sat together in Conference Room B, which had acquired a new door and a small sign prohibiting unapproved team-building activities.

Voldemort had requested a throne for the interviews.

Facilities had supplied a chair with adjustable lumbar support.

He had spent twenty minutes experimenting with it before declaring it acceptable.

“You’re looking for judgment,” Karen reminded him as they waited for the next candidate.

“I am looking for someone who understands my requirements before I speak.”

“That’s something you develop over time.”

“I could simply read their mind.”

“We discussed this.”

He adjusted the lumbar support.

It was, irritatingly, excellent.

An Old Connection

The next candidate arrived with a silver-topped cane, immaculate blond hair, and the expression of a man who had discovered the position through someone else’s indiscretion.

“Lucius,” Voldemort said.

“My lord.”

Karen checked her list.

“Mr. Malfoy. How did you hear about the opening?”

“An associate mentioned that his lordship required assistance.”

“Was that Brad?”

Lucius hesitated.

Voldemort made a note.

“Your résumé says ‘independent adviser,’” Karen continued.

“I have advised prominent figures.”

“On what?”

“Matters of influence.”

“With measurable results?”

Lucius glanced toward Voldemort.

“Mixed.”

For a moment, the Dark Lord experienced the unpleasant sensation of watching his own interview from the other side of the table.

Karen turned a page.

“Tell us about a time you challenged a poor decision.”

Lucius became very still.

Voldemort waited.

“There were occasions,” Lucius began carefully, “when I privately held reservations.”

“And did you communicate them?”

“My facial expression may have conveyed concern.”

“Useful,” Voldemort murmured. “I generally assumed indigestion.”

Karen asked about scheduling, travel arrangements, and spreadsheets.

Lucius answered the travel question with confidence.

He owned several properties.

This turned out to be the entirety of his answer.

“What compensation are you seeking?” she asked.

He named a sum.

Voldemort stared at him.

“You once offered me eternal service.”

“Circumstances have changed.”

“You have become expensive.”

“I prefer experienced.”

After Lucius left, Karen closed the folder.

“Your thoughts?”

Voldemort looked at the requested salary.

“I was getting extraordinary value.”

The Woman with the Notebook

The final candidate wore a dark jacket, carried a plain notebook, and did not bow.

“Miriam Shaw,” she said.

Voldemort waited.

She sat.

“You may sit,” he said.

“Thank you.”

Karen smiled at the notebook.

“Your last role was supporting a hospital director?”

“Two directors. One believed every issue required his personal involvement. The other routinely agreed to be in three places at once.”

“I can be in several places through magical means,” Voldemort said.

“Could the people in those places make decisions without you?”

He regarded her.

Karen began writing.

Miriam explained how she organized schedules, prepared briefing notes, and kept track of decisions.

Then she asked about the job.

“What are the three most important things this person needs to help you accomplish?”

Voldemort had prepared no answer to this.

“The expansion of my influence.”

“Through which responsibilities?”

“The board. The transformation plan. My eventual—”

He noticed Karen’s pen.

“Professional development.”

Miriam wrote something down.

“And what does success look like after three months?”

“I shall no longer be troubled by mundane affairs.”

“Which mundane affairs?”

He gestured at the building.

Miriam waited.

Somehow, the room had changed sides.

A Practical Exercise

Voldemort recovered by producing a calendar.

“I have devised a test.”

Karen examined it.

“You were supposed to use the exercise I sent.”

“I improved it.”

The schedule contained two board meetings, three client lunches, a staff review, a visit to an ancient ruin, and eleven minutes marked CONTEMPLATION.

Everything took place on Thursday.

Miriam studied the page.

“Which of these commitments can move?”

“None.”

“What is the purpose of the ruin?”

“An object of potential significance.”

“To the company?”

“To me.”

“Is it time-sensitive?”

“It has been there for centuries.”

She drew a line through it.

Voldemort leaned forward.

“You have canceled my expedition.”

“Rescheduled.”

“To when?”

“When you can explain why it matters this week.”

He glanced at Karen.

She was showing no inclination to rescue him.

“Two of these lunches overlap,” Miriam continued.

“I have a wand.”

“Do you want to spend the afternoon using it to explain why you ate lunch with one client while another watched?”

Voldemort considered the logistics.

“One lunch may move.”

“And these board meetings?”

“One is preparation for the other.”

“Who needs to attend the preparation?”

He opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Miriam moved three names to a separate note.

“I’d request written updates from these people.”

Karen looked delighted.

Voldemort resolved to stop hiring in front of witnesses.

The Reference Check

After Miriam left, he called Ethan.

“I require your assessment of a candidate.”

“You have Karen.”

“She is enjoying herself.”

Ethan arrived between operations meetings.

Voldemort described the interview.

“She canceled an expedition.”

“Was it necessary?”

“I had not decided.”

“She asked questions I had not prepared for.”

“That sounds useful.”

“She appears resistant to intimidation.”

Ethan looked at the new conference-room door.

“Probably worth keeping.”

Voldemort folded his arms.

“Lucius also applied.”

“How did that go?”

“He has discovered market rates.”

Ethan nodded.

“That happens.”

For a moment, Voldemort studied his former assistant.

“You appear busy.”

“I am.”

“Do you miss this?”

Ethan looked around the room, then at the schedule, then at the chair that had slowly risen several inches while Voldemort adjusted it.

“Parts.”

Voldemort accepted this with more dignity than either of them expected.

The Offer

They offered Miriam the job.

She asked to discuss the terms.

Voldemort found this premature. They had scarcely begun employing her and already there were negotiations.

“I need clarity on decision-making authority,” she said.

“You may act on my behalf.”

“Within what limits?”

“You will know.”

“I’d rather know now.”

They agreed she could move internal appointments, request briefing materials, and refuse meetings that lacked a clear purpose.

Voldemort approved each item with the expression of a monarch surrendering coastal territory.

“And working hours?” she asked.

“Business hours, with occasional exceptions,” Karen said.

“I may summon you in an emergency,” Voldemort added.

“What counts as an emergency?”

“You will recognize the urgency of my tone.”

“I expect your tone is frequently urgent.”

Karen coughed into her hand.

They agreed on a definition.

It took longer than the salary.

Her First Morning

Miriam arrived at eight thirty on Monday.

By nine, she had read Ethan’s handover notes.

By nine fifteen, she had asked why Voldemort had accepted a webinar about warehouse flooring.

“Research,” he said.

“Into?”

He considered lying.

“It is possible I clicked incorrectly.”

She removed it.

At ten, Brad appeared.

“Need five minutes with Tom.”

“What’s the subject?” Miriam asked.

“Just catching up.”

“Is there a decision he needs to make?”

“Not specifically.”

She offered him a slot later in the week.

Brad smiled.

“I’m the managing director.”

“Yes. I’ve put that in your contact details.”

Inside his office, Voldemort stopped typing.

He listened.

Brad departed.

The Dark Lord experienced a warm sensation that he initially mistook for a curse.

The Limits of Delegation

At eleven, Miriam entered his office.

“I’ve moved your afternoon discussion with Priya.”

“Why?”

“She needs to finish the supplier review before she can give you an answer.”

“I could compel an answer now.”

“Would it be accurate?”

He tapped his pen.

“And I declined the strategic alignment session.”

“Good.”

“And your meeting with Lucius Malfoy.”

Voldemort looked up.

“You what?”

“He said he wanted to discuss an opportunity of great importance.”

“It may be.”

“I asked him to send a summary.”

“He does not send summaries.”

“Then I don’t know why you need a meeting.”

Voldemort stood.

“You will restore it.”

Miriam opened her notebook.

“What is it for?”

The question should have been easy.

Instead, he remembered old gatherings around long tables. Elaborate assurances. Nervous agreement. Lucius explaining that matters were progressing when matters were very much not progressing.

“He wishes to discuss my future,” Voldemort said.

“Has he sent a proposal?”

“No.”

“Do you want to ask him for one?”

Voldemort remained standing for several seconds.

Then he sat.

“Yes.”

Miriam made a note.

“I’ll follow up.”

After she left, he adjusted the lumbar support again.

It did not help.

A New Arrangement

At five thirty, Karen stopped by.

“How’s the new assistant?”

“Obstructive. Demanding. Unimpressed by rank.”

“Any concerns about her work?”

Voldemort considered the completed report on his screen.

He had finished it without interruption.

“No.”

Karen smiled.

“Good hire.”

He disliked the pride this produced.

“Do not put that in my review.”

“We’ll see.”

Outside, Miriam was preparing to leave.

“Tomorrow’s briefing is in your inbox,” she told him. “You have an hour free in the morning.”

“For what?”

“Whatever you decide is important.”

He looked at his calendar.

A clean rectangle of empty space waited between nine and ten.

No committee. No mandatory audience. No invitation requiring him to explain what another invitation had accomplished.

He had intended to acquire a servant.

Instead, someone had returned a small piece of his life.

Voldemort found this transaction difficult to classify.

The following morning, Lucius sent his proposal.

It was six pages long and included a crest.

Voldemort read the first paragraph.

Then he forwarded it to Miriam.

Please determine whether this requires my attention.

She replied two minutes later.

It appears to be a request for money.

He read the proposal again.

It was indeed a request for money.

Voldemort leaned back.

For decades, he had believed he needed followers who would carry out his every command.

He was beginning to appreciate the advantages of employing someone who could prevent him from receiving other people’s.

He typed his response.

Decline.

Then, after a moment, he added:

Politely.

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