Disclaimer: I don't own Parvati Patil. Harry Potter characters are the IP of JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB, and I am writing fanfiction based on the tenets of fair use, namely non profit, does not detract from JKR's income, and does not copy or attempt to substitute for the original work, etc. Furthermore, Rowling has stated through her Lawyers in the non-case that did not take place against George Lippert that she is cool (paraphrasing) with on-line spin-offs as long as it is made clear she is not involved. Furthermore, no pornography or racism. For in depth study on Harry Potter Fan fiction and other derivatives, I point you to "The Harry Potter Lexicon and the World of Fandom: Fan Fiction, Outsider Works, and Copyright", Schwabach A. University of Pittsburgh Law Review, 2009; 70.
5 The Leaky
I am trudging back to Hogwarts, in slippers, cloaked. Small jagged pebbles playfully prick my soles before they scatter off back to the cobblestones. Not far off is the Leaky Cauldron, my favorite stomping grounds. There resides my next best friend, Hannah Abbot.
Hannah is the anti-Lavender. And, no, the anti-Lavender is not Hermione Granger. Hannah is a free spirit sort of girl. She never was a prominent student back in school, more quiet despite being pretty awesome - as it turns out. Now since she left Hogwarts, her laid-back nature now bloomed to its fullest.
Hannah succeeded Old Tom as the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron. I keep on referring to it by its old name, but now it's simply "the Leaky". She's turned the previously run down inn-slash-pub into a cozy hangout for our sort of people. If she just didn't enforce the no-smoking policy, I wouldn't have had to break into my ex-boyfriend's clinic.
It's a cozy autumn night, and I see a small gathering of people, mostly clerks who work at the shop stopping by for a beer. Hannah has taken the stage and is poking out a song from her guitar. She has long dirty blond hair that hangs about and loosely fitting clothes that seem to just fit right. I enter quietly, taking a beer from Dennis Creevey and snuggle in, relaxing away.
It's too dark to see anyone else, but I think it's Katie Bell by the window, and Fay Dunbar near the stage. Katie used to be a trio of older girls, including Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. Alicia went on to become a star Quidditch player before culminating injuries got the better of her, and turning her into this weird Witch Fitness and Workout guru. Angelina, of course, married George Weasley and disappeared from public view. But Katie... Katie was plagued with bad luck from early on. During her Hogwarts years she was one of the most frequently injured of the Gryffindor team, and then there was the debacle about the cursed jewelry. Bad luck seemed to follow Katie Bell around that in the end she just seemed to give up on life. Blaise was the one who alerted me that Katie was a real mess, when she came to him with severe withdrawal from various substance abuses. I was appalled at first, but girls like Katie were becoming more and more common.
And no, it doesn't seem to be Katie Bell.
I'm not sure now, whether Hermione Granger is doing the right thing. Muggles, despite what You-Know-Who thought, weren't quite the haplessly powerless sheep we had thought they were. They were more vicious and virile and oft times cannibalistic in their nature of dominating their own kind. Sometimes I think that there was a sound reason why the wizarding world was segregated from the Muggles, and why throughout our history we are so fraught with these constant push and shoves of pureblood against mixed heritage. But Hermione Granger is relentless, and her fight to make all things sensible is, well, sensible. The problem, dear Hermione, is that not everyone is as sensible as you are. Sometimes there isn't a logical answer to things.
Hannah is playing one of her new songs. It's not catchy, and its awfully wordy for a song. You can tell she places extra care to her lyrics. The audience is mesmerized, though, mostly because we flock here to what we like. Nostalgia, for the most part, of the time that went by so quickly that we so utterly failed to appreciate. Not all of us are precocious prodigies like Hermione Granger, or "chosen" like Harry Potter. Some of us fall off the band wagon along the way, and the story goes on while leaving us in the dust.
Hannah finishes her song and with a deep bow, flirtatiously flicks her wand.
"Lumos!" she grins, "Gotta forgive me, folks. But I'm through with my new songs for tonight."
The applause sounds broken, but there are only five or six of us, and we're giving it heartily. Hannah hops off the stage and catches a glass of beer that Dennis slides her way before making a straight beeline over to ... moi! I am enthralled.
"Parvati!" Hannah leans over to kiss me on the cheek. "I heard you were back in town."
"Hey," I am overcome with warmth and fuzziness as I massage her fingers, "beautiful song."
Hannah rolls her eyes. "I cleaned out your old room that you used back when."
"That's okay. I think I'll just stay full time at the castle." I am trying to abstain from coming into easy reach of Blaise's little hideout. My return to Hogsmeade was too tantalizingly rife with the allure of just becoming dependent on Blaise again. It had been such a taxing relationship to bear through his unassailable barriers he had set about himself.
"I have an empty room here, in any case, so if you happen to have someone looking for a place, let them know they're welcome. Okey dokey?" Hannah picks her teeth with her fingernail, unloosing something that might have been chicken. I wasn't as close to Hannah when we were at Hogwarts. I don't think we've actually talked to each other. While we did move around in each other's vicinity, Hannah was too shy and too plain for Lavender to consider conversing with. It's surprising how much I've grown close to Hannah in recent years. It was just before I went off to work under Slughorn, when I was trying my fling with opening a shop on Diagon alley. I needed a room and Old Tom let me live with Hannah who had been working for him in the Leaky Cauldron.
First she took care of Old Tom in his twilight years, did the dishes, then managed the bar. Then she began to put her own spin on the place, turning it from the damp grey seedy bar into a watering hole where the more bohemian wizards and witches flocked to. I think she's found her niche in life, singing songs, serving drinks, and making everyone feel welcome. She's my hero.
"How's teaching?" Hannah asks. Dennis brings us some snacks. He's lithe and cat-like, stalking over quietly and placing the wooden bowl of pretzels. He lingers a moment, his sharp elfin eyes dancing about amused at everything. He winks at me before he returns to the bar.
I feel that my breath has left me for a moment. He is positively beautiful.
The Creevey brothers had been such fans of Harry, orbiting his vicinity like shepherd dogs. But since Colin died, Dennis seemed to have dropped off the radar entirely. Lavender would have loved to have her hands on him.
"Hey!" Hannah snaps her fingers in my face. "Eyes off the merchandise, honey."
I grin like an idiot.
"He's too young for you," Hannah snickers. "Besides, he's not into witches."
I make an 'O' with my mouth, more crestfallen than surprised.
"You really have set up the place nicely," is all I could say.
"Uh-huh," Hannah laughs. "Bad ass heartthrob bartender. Why else do you think I have customers? They're certainly not here to listen to my yowling."
"I like your songs!" I'm surprised.
"Yeah," Hannah sniggers, "you're my one witch fan club, girl."
The door burst open all of a sudden, letting in the cool autumn air along with a veritable troupe of young boys. I hide under the menu, lest they're Hogwarts students, but then remind myself that it's curfew. There are six of them but they scatter themselves about in three tables covering most of the floor. They're in their twenties, good looking and tall, and well aware of their looks. The emblem on their business robes mark them as Weasley Motors employees.
They order a round of beers, but are mostly talking to each other, rather loudly about revenue and forecast and consumers. I don't know why they picked the Leaky for their meeting; there are a lot of other posh venues elsewhere. But Hannah seems pleased at the influx of customers that she rushes back to the stage. She accios her guitar, eager to make regulars out of new faces. Business must be slow.
She starts out with a slow and quiet tune, but once she begins to sing, one or two of the boys throw her an annoyed look.
'Mind keeping it down?" one of the boys snap. "We're trying to have an important meeting here."
"We could open up a room for you upstairs if you need some quiet space." Hannah suggests meekly.
"Just son't sing, okay?" the leader of the group quips. You can tell he's the leader as he has his own table while the others show him charts and graphs.
Hannah tries to keep a brave face, looking a bit embarrassed as she climbs down from the stage.
"Hey!" Uh-oh. It's one of the earlier customers, a centaur who had come with his mare. "Some of us come here for the music."
The young men look annoyed.
"Go find a barn, horsemeat," another one of the boys voice in. Hannah looks positively dismayed on stage. But one of the guys thought that was pushing it and waved apologetically at the centaurs.
Dennis walks over to the boys. "Hey, guys. We're really a stage-bar here. If you want someplace quiet I can show you to our upstairs rooms-"
"Get lost, faggot," the nearest to Dennis pushes him away. "We're leaving. C'mon, Holkham. I told you this shack wasn't worth the beer."
The leader, Holkham, looks angry. He simmers in his seat for a moment, then pounds the table with his fist before shoving himself away.
"Alright, boys," Holkam gets up, a couple of beers crash to the floor. He looks at the smashed glasses with disdain, hurriedly checking if any of the beer had splattered on his robes.
"Hey!" Dennis tries to grab him, but is blocked by two of Holkham's lackeys. "You gotta pay for the beers and damages."
I am curiously expecting a fight to erupt by now, hiding behind the menu, peeking out like a mouse. My heart has jumped into my mouth and is pounding away like crazy. If a fight breaks out I am compelled to help Hannah and Dennis, but then a part of me trails off wondering if it would put my position at Hogwarts in jeopardy.
But Holkham just fishes in his robes before he tosses a handful of Galleon on the pile of shattered glasses.
"Keep the change, faggot."
The boys leave without any more fuss. No one picks a fight. There is no conflict, just transaction. It's all business, isn't it? There is no dark lord, no Death Eaters, no oppression, no criminal. It's just the mundane life of people. I don't think those boys from Weasley Motors were villains. They were just a bunch of young upwardly mobile wizards. They just picked the wrong place to hold an after-work business meeting. Perhaps the other bars were full. Perhaps...
An argument breaks out between the Centaurs; the mare is chiding the stallion why he had to put his stupid horse head in other people's business. They take the fight outside, angry and probably not returning. Dennis picks up the shards of glasses, looking dejected, while Hannah sighs and gathers the Galleons, making sure it covers the damage.
"One of these is a twenty Galleon," Hannah tries to cheer Dennis up, handing him the posh coin, but Dennis shoves the broom into her hand and stalks out the back.
"Hey, Neville," Neville Longbottom is surrounded by admirers, throngs of students flocking about him asking questions after class. It's amusing how all my students evaporate the moment the bell tolls. Neville looks at me startled, but quickly detaches himself from his students and rushes over to me. The students throw me an angry annoyed glare but soon disperse.
I've been avoiding Neville. He represents all the HarryPotterGinnyWeasleyHermioneGranger of my life, and I just couldn't handle any more of his "adventures" and "courage" and weird shit that makes people do things out of their way. But I knew Neville's been trying to talk to me ever since school started.
"Parvati," he smiles but looks harried. "I've been wanting to talk to your about-"
"Yeah, okay, Neville," I don't want to talk to him about whatever he's wanting to talk to me about. "Look. I was wondering if you can help me on something."
"Uh, sure. Okay." Neville is always a bit low on self esteem. Probably because he hasn't looked in the mirror to see how bloody handsome he's become. That's the problem about growing up the 'fat kid'. he eagerly pushes his agenda away and give me his 'full attention'. I blush. Damn.
"Look," I try to begin again, looking somewhere else, "Do you like living here at school?"
"Oh, yes!" Neville smiles widely. "I've set up a room in the gardens where I can go right to the green house in less than a couple of seconds."
I roll my eyes. Neville is such a nerd. I stop him before he tries to explain to me the wonders of communion with plants.
"That is no place for a grown man to live, Neville."
"It.. isn't?"
I latch on to his arms, walking him along the corridor.
"C'mon, Neville," I coax him, "You need a fresh and normal living space. Somewhere where you can fix yourself up, meet people, hang out."
"I ... okay," Neville is too bewildered.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
"No, no,' Neville stammers. "I'm not um seeing anyone. No."
"See?" I grin, "you should get out more. A handsome guy like you will have girls flocking to you in no time."
"Huh... Really? No... No. I'm.. I'm not very good with ... ," he can't bring himself about to say 'girls'. He blushes madly. Oh, he's so cute. I could just eat him up, myself. But I need Neville for something else.
"I have a friend who's looking for a tenant," I begin.
"Neville Longbottom?" Hannah scowls.
"Just what you need," I stop my hand halfway from the nut bowl. I need to lose weight.
"Oh, wow," Fay is hanging about the bar, stuffing herself with nuts. "Neville bloody Longbottom is going to live here?'
"I didn't say yes," Hannah snaps.
"Why not?" Fay whines.
"It'd be great, Hannah," I break off a tip of a walnut and nibble on it. "A famous ex-auror living in the spare room of the Leaky. People would think twice of making a mess here."
"He's so... " I have never seen Hannah at a loss for words, lately. In her student days, yes, she was a bit tongue tied. But since she became this weird hippy person, she was a veritable wordsmith. "he's so... so..."
"Handsome," Dennis grinned lecherously, over the bar. "Oh, he's hot. That's what she's trying to say."
"Shut it, Creevey." Hannah tosses a rag at him.
"She has the hots for Neville, she does." Dennis cackles, swinging his long legs over the counter. Yum.
"Really?" my surprise gets the better of me, and I lose self control as my hand dips into the nut bowl, extracting an almond. "I didn't think he was much your type."
"Why not?' Hannah looks flustered as she combs her hair with her fingers.
"I thought you had a thing for Ernie," I shrug. My hands are bewitched and they are feeding my mouth almonds against my will.
"Eh," Dennis sticks his tongue out in disgust. "We no talk about the Macmillan here."
I am utterly curious about what happened to Ernie while I was away serving the Slug, but Hannah abruptly agrees, forcing the topic away from my inquisitiveness.
"Alright," Hannah gives in. "Tell Neville I'll have the room ready by the weekend."
"You said you already have the room ready," I look at her suspiciously.
"It's a girl's room," Hannah snaps. "It's connected to my room. I'm going to have to move Dennis into that room and give Neville his."
"Hey!" Dennis objects. "When did this happen? Besides, I'm a guy, too. Just because I'm gay doesn't mean that I'm not a guy."
"It's not because you're gay, sweetie," Hannah bats her eyelashes, "it's because you're my employee, and I can tell you to move into the spare room or the street. Your choice."