Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe, it is the property of J.K. Rowling.
A/N: The tilde and hash symbols indicate memories/flashbacks. This story ignores canon deaths. Hope you enjoy.
Since the death of her mother, Hannah Longbottom has, for the most part, led a life of quiet seclusion, making herself almost entirely oblivious to the events going on in Wizarding London. After spending her time with discreet relatives for what would have been most of her 6th and part of her 7th year at Hogwarts, she finally took up residence in The Leaky Cauldron (of which she became the landlady) upon marrying Neville Longbottom. Upon Tom's, the former landlord of the pub, retirement, he signed over the rights of the place to Hannah and Neville, who have sought refuge there since. Tonight was quiet, only two people were drinking tall glasses of Sidecar and engaged in light conversations about their day-jobs; Hannah paid them no mind, she liked to think she had heard it all from her customers. From a best friend's cousins marrying each other to the loss of an entire family minus one survivor, they either came in to celebrate, cry, settle a score or get lucky.
After a year, Hannah found that she's rather disinterested, trading one news source for another. Of course, she would still hear plenty about the Wizarding world, living in one of the most famous and popular pubs for witches and wizards alike. It was going to just be her for the next few days; Neville was out visiting his parents, which he did 3 times a year, each time he would be gone for about 4 or 5 days, then return. She was thankful that she wasn't too busy tonight. The last time Neville went to visit his folks, some stranger walked in demanding she set up a free tab for him, without giving much reason as to why.
She still remembers that night so vividly:
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The man with the red cloak approached Hannah's bar, leaning on it as he kept eye contact. Apprehensive, she took a step back, looking from the man's hood to the last button on his coat. Unable to make out his facial features aside from a small mouth and protruding nose (the upper half of his face was covered with a black mask), she started to ask nervously, "M-May I help you, sir?" At this, he shifted his position slightly, and cleared his throat. The man started to speak with a stuffy voice "Open a running tab, barkeeper. Myself and some friends are conducting VERY important business here on this delightful night. I insist that you do not charge, nor do you bother us." He declared, as if he were the supreme law of the land.
Hannah's face hardened; there was no way in hell this man would be getting free drinks, much less free drinks for an entire group. "You may open a tab, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge you. No one gets special treatment, mister." She said defiantly, hoping her feigned bravery would pay off. His face contorted, and he spat out in response, "How dare you refuse Arturo the Gatekeeper!?I shall impale thee with my mighty Scimitar of Baron Slaying +3!" With that, he removed what appeared to be a flat, half-cylinder shaped token with a drawing of a red sword on it. The man referring to himself as "Arturo" looked down at the piece with disdain. "…Drat! Didn't any of you numbskulls imbue this with the power contained within the Orb of Magicka?! Do I have to do EVERYTHING around here?" He turned around to what Hannah presumed to be his friends and glared at them.
Completely confused, Hannah did not know what to think. 'Is this some kind of joke?' She thought silently, eying the old telephone near the drinks. She backed away from the strange man, slowly and quietly as her hand inched closer to the telephone receiver. As he was busy lecturing his friends about some princess and demon chickens, she picked up the phone, and began to dial for the authorities on the vintage rotary dialer. She quietly informed someone of this bizarre situation, hung up the phone, turned around and saw that the man was now looking at her.
"Chatting on the phone instead of serving your patrons? Hmph. I give this place 3 Dragons: Available space for Game masters, but the barkeeper shirks on her duties." He grunted as if the very air he was breathing had been tainted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an important adventure to oversee." With that, the man turned on his heel, and walked over to the table where his friends were, his cloak billowing slightly behind him. This was all too weird; was Hannah, or The Leaky Cauldron for that matter, in any danger? What was the deal with these people, what do they want?
About fifteen minutes later, some individuals from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement came bursting through the doors, and headed straight for Hannah. One of the men starting speaking. "Hello, Mrs. Longbottom. What seems to be the problem, here?" She proceeded to tell them what happened, while pointing at the peculiar group of men. "The guy in the further-most seat, he calls himself…Arturo the Gatekeeper?" She said a bit uncomfortably, as the name seemed silly, and likely wasn't his real name. The men glanced over at the group. "Oh, it's these sods. We have to kick them out of pubs everywhere because they "harass" the landlords and ladies into letting them have a free-for-all game night, every single time. I apologize if they've caused you discomfort. I'll have them removed."
A wave of relief washed over Hannah; these guys were harmless, despite trying to act menacing. She saw them be escorted out, the men tipping their hats to her as the group of pathetic men squabble amongst themselves.
~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~
"Hello, lady?!" A voice shakes Hannah out of her thoughts. She looks at a pissed-off customer. "Finally! What does it take to get another Sidecar around here?" he snaps. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't see you. Right away." She fumbles writing down the order and quickly gets to work making it. "You must be blind." He retorted, leaning back in his barstool, and almost falling over as a result. She ignored this remark; it was her fault he was angry, so she had no reason to argue. Just serve the man and be done with it.
After a few, tense moments, she slides the drink over to the man. He nods in response, "Now we're talking." He says while taking a hefty gulp and slamming the drink down on the bar, almost causing all of its contents to spill. Hannah began to wonder to herself how so many of her customers could drink so much and still be a (at least halfway) functioning member of society. She was a lightweight when it came to drinking, and took an oath not to touch an alcoholic beverage, except on special occasions. After deciding that her two customers would be alright if she left for a few moments, she walked away from the bar and walked up the stairs, into one of the bathrooms. After relieving her bladder and washing her hands, she admired herself in the mirror for a moment.
Hannah never realized, until this moment, how much her face had filled out in the past couple of years. Her cheeks were fuller, more pink than they usually are. Her sandy-blonde hair covered her small breasts, and her eyes had bags under them; she looked like she hadn't slept in ages. Well, she hadn't. Ever since Mrs. Abbott passed, Hannah has not been able to get a good night's rest, worried that one day the Death Eaters may come for her, too.
Despite this, she still had her youthful looks. While life has been easier overall for her since Neville married her, she still had her worries, and voiced them to him as often as she could. Neville would always tell her that he could protect her, that he was strong and brave now, no longer a klutz, thanks to Remus Lupin, who had helped him gain confidence in his third year at Hogwarts. At this, she smiled, and placed a hand on the mirror. Maybe her life wasn't so bad…
Her hand began to feel hot, as soon as she had placed it on the mirror. 'Weird' she thought, and removed her hand to examine it. It hadn't turned red, or shown any signs of being sensitive. She put her hand on the mirror again, this time it burned. "Ow!' She yelled, removing her hand, seeing that she had a slight burn now. "What…?" She began to say to herself as she began to see a vignette form in the mirror. Rubbing her eyes, she looked long and hard at the mirror. The vignette was growing.
Curious, she placed her hand on the mirror yet again, except this time the mirror appeared to be made out of air. She gasped as her hand went through the mirror and fell back, against the toilet. Before she could process her shock and what was happening, the mirror began to crack, as if someone had dropped it. This was crazy; how could a mirror break so easily, and what was with the vignette? Figuring she had been away from the bar long enough, and that this was her mind playing tricks on her, she stood up. However, as soon as her foot stepped onto the next tile, the tile cracked and fell away.
This time she shrieked, taking another step back, only to have that tile fall away, as well. The small lavatory began to crack and fall away, pieces of the ceiling falling and threatening to crush her. Anything she touched would fall, there was no way to gain footing and escape. She ended up falling with the rest of the floor, desperately flailing her hands, hoping there was something she could grab on to. She saw nothing below her; was this the end? The 18-year-old witch soon lost consciousness.
**Let me know what you think! Did you catch the Fable 3 reference? -hehe-**
