"Okay, bullet points. I got Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts on my OWLs?" Sure, he didn't take his NEWTs, but he'd gone right into Auror training after the war was over and the dust had settled. Did he need those? Oh gods, does he need to take them? There's no way he'd pass if he took them today.

Instead of working himself up over that, he lets out a breath and clears his throat. Okay, moving on. "Bullet two: I taught a group of twenty-five students defensive spells in secret in Fifth Year. Bullet three: I defeated Voldemort. And that's about all I've got."

How did one even put together a resumé? This seems silly. Not that he thinks it should just be given to him, he doesn't want special treatment! He just doesn't know how to put all his skills down on paper. What's important and what isn't? He's distracted by the hand playing with his hair and hums contentedly, letting his head rest against the chair's arm while he thinks.

He pushes his glasses up his face while he rubs at his eyes. "This is exhausting already."