This is part of The International Wizarding School Competition.
Story Title: Clean Serenity
School: Hogwarts
Theme: Wingardium Leviosa
Prompt: 1) The Three Broomsticks - Setting (Main)
8) Comedy - Genre
Year: 3 (Part-time standing in)
Thank you to coleytaylor for being my Beta.
It was a quiet night in Hogsmeade. The streets were silent apart from the pages of the abandoned newspaper rustling in the wind. The streetlights fed an orange glow through the buildings, reflecting off each dark window of the closed shops. One solitary, yellow light shone through a small window above the large wooden door of The Three Broomsticks, where one person was puttering around inside. With a swish and flick of her wand, she sent the brooms sweeping around the room. It began to look like a scene from The Sorcerer's Apprentice, with the broomsticks jumping in and out of water buckets cleaning the floor with all their might. With a nod of her head, Rosmerta moved to behind the bar, ready to begin her nightly routine.
There was something about making the glass cleaner and cleaner with each swipe of the cloth that just calmed the nerves. Yes, magic could be used, but after years of being a barmaid (and then owner), Rosmerta had learnt that the best way to de-stress after a long, hard day was just to methodically rub a glass until it shone, following the dirt trails to sweep them up into a damp dishcloth. Then it was dipped into the water, rinsing it completely before her hands drew circles with the tea-towel, the soap and water clinging to it as the glass grew clearer. It could then be placed with its brothers and sisters before she moved on to the next one.
Rosmerta thought back on the day she'd had as she scrubbed at the glasses. It was a Hogsmeade weekend for Hogwarts. Not only that, it was the first Hogsmeade trip of the new school year. That meant giddy third years, solemn seventh years with the realisation that this was their "last first Hogsmeade trip" (That sounded like the phrase that was sobbed out) and indifferent students from every other year. There had been eight breakages in ninety minutes along with four cuts of Muggleborn students who forgot they could use magic and attempted to pick the pieces up with their hands, and a small fire.
Rosmerta shook her head at the memory of the fire. How did he even manage that? Young fourth year Seamus Finnegan had been trying to change a notebook from red to green. Rosmerta could hear him repeating "Colovaria" to himself until suddenly there was a scream. She looked over to see the notebook on the wooden table in flames. Her yell of "Augumenti!" sent a stream of water towards the table, dowsing the flames and soaking poor Seamus in the process. When the water cleared, much to the amusement of Rosmerta, all he did was shrug and say, "Well, this year will be no different so."
With a quick warning to practice in the school, not her pub, she had returned to filling orders. Eight Butterbeers over there; no, there'll be no Fire-whiskey. You are after all only thirteen. And really? Another wailing girl? It's only two weeks into the year.
Rosmerta chuckled to herself as she remembered Seamus's incident of the day. She finished the glass she was holding with a flourish before placing it on the shelf. She extended her hand for another one as she remembered what happened after that. There had been the terribly awkward first date (What first date isn't awkward?). It was one of the young Weasley twins, which one she wasn't sure, but she knew it was one of them. That was certainly a memorable time for all involved. Maybe not for the best reasons though.
The Weasley had arrived with a young lass and been surprisingly polite. He held the door open, placed one hand on her back to guide her into the building. He took off her coat and pulled out her chair for her before sitting down opposite her, stumbling on the leg of the chair as he did so. For the first time ever, Rosmerta had seen him with nothing to say. After watching him struggle to make stilted conversation for a few minutes, he headed to the bar for two Butterbeers. Rosmerta had poured them and exchanged them for payment, accompanied with an encouraging smile. He had smiled nervously back and picked them up with shaking hands. That's when it seemed to go wrong.
He made his way back to the table and put the glasses down but as he retracted his hand, he hit the poor girl (Angelina, maybe?) on the shoulder. She was holding the full glass in her hand but only spilled some of it over her hand, thankfully. Embarrassed, he had sat down, putting his head in his hands. Angelina just let out a little laugh and used one of the napkins from the dispenser on the table to dry herself. She placed her sticky hand on his arm, attempting to remove it from his face. With a slight tug, she successfully uncovered his face, although it still held the pain of embarrassment. Their hands rested together as she tried to coax him to speak. All he could stutter out were partial sentences before he finally settled down. Then she asked him about some prank. It was obvious that helped the conversation a lot as his eyes lit up; a grin covered his face and he suddenly became more animated.
As he seemed to be describing some particularly difficult part of the prank, his gesticulating hand knocked against his half-full tankard and sent it flying. Time seemed to slow down as it landed on its side and the contents spilled out onto the skirt of his date. His eyes widened and unfortunately for Angelina, since she'd had gotten him to talk, he wouldn't stop blabbering out apologies. He'd then stood up too quickly and knocked into someone carrying a plate of steaming hot fish pie and sent the half of it down the front of Angelina's top. She shrieked and jumped from her seat, toppling her chair over which in turn tripped one of the third years, who bashed his nose against the edge of a table.
The Weasley turned as red as his hair, opening and shutting his mouth like a goldfish. Angelina bit her lip, nodding her head exasperatedly, before grabbing her jacket and making her way towards the exit. Whichever of the twins it was had grabbed his jacket as well, hurrying after her, still spouting apologies.
Rosmerta watched them through the window after they'd left the pub. The lass stopped abruptly and turned to face the waffling boy. She stepped up and in view of all, kissed him. The blush across his cheeks grew deeper (if even possible) as she pulled away. Even through the pane of glass between them, Rosmerta heard her say, "Maybe we don't go anywhere that there's food for the next date." His whoop of joy drew a crowd before the two of them headed back up towards the school.
It was a disastrous date, but it seemed to have the right outcome. That poor girl didn't know what she was in for. Rosmerta was reminded of her own first date. Her date was a lovely boy, but what a clumsy git. It wasn't Butterbeer or fish pie that had landed on her, though. It was hot tea from Madam Puddifoot's. She still had a small scar on her leg from the burn. She thought about how lucky she was that she could use magic and just a wave of her wand could clean up any mess.
She scanned the bar and counted eight glasses that still needed cleaned. As she picked up another one, she thought about the rest of her day. There had been the lunchtime rush shortly after the first date incident which kept her too occupied to watch all the people interacting around the room. It was only when it became time to close that it really got interesting again. All because of Professor Flitwick.
He had been sitting in a corner with Professor Sprout and Hagrid, all of them nursing some sort of alcohol. Rosmerta wasn't sure what had happened during the week, but Filius had been drinking Butterbeer before switching to Fire-whiskey. That had been entertaining to witness. Judging from the table in front of him, he had drunk four shots. After knowing Filius for years, Rosmerta had learned that he was a bit of a lightweight. To see him still awake after four shots was a miracle. But when it was time to close, it had taken a lot of effort to get him out of the pub. In hindsight, Hagrid could have just picked him up and carried him but instead, they all watched him attempt to leave. He wobbled like a toddler learning to walk before making his way to the door with a few dozen extra turns involved. With his little spins thrown in, the drunk ballerina had finally made his way out into the brisk, dark night. Rosmerta watched the Charms professor profess his love for not only a tree along the way but also what appeared to be a dog…
Rosmerta shook her head to rid herself of the strange memories, finally getting her nerves to settle after the day she'd had. Drying off the final tankard, she tilted it to catch the candlelight. It glinted, and the sparkling glass showed no spots. Satisfied with her work, she placed it with the rest of the glassware. With a flick of her wand, she closed the cupboard and halted the brooms in their work. A glance around the room calmed her as she took in the shining floors, spotless table-tops and sparkling crockery. She gave a satisfied nod and extinguished the lights before heading up the stairs to enjoy an undisturbed sleep; the pub sat waiting for its signal to begin all over again.
In Hogsmeade, the final light went out. All was quiet. The wind whistled through the streets, the light bounced off the cobblestones, the newspaper rustled louder. The small town settled for another night.
A/N: So, my use of the theme is slightly more theoretical than literal. It was based on the explanation of "Wingardium Leviosa" rather than having a story based around the spell.
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