Chapter 1 | "Warm alcohol should be made illegal, wouldn't you agree?"

As per usual, the streets throughout Hogsmeade village were bustling with crowd. Most of which were made up of numerous bright-eyed students, who had wandered over from the nearby boarding school - the oldest and most famous wizarding school in Britain, Hogwarts.

The reason as to why there were so many children running around was because this particular weekend is the Hogsmeade weekend - which meant that starting that Friday, for the next two days, the third-years and up are free to venture out of the school gates so long as they have each of their permission slips signed by their current guardians and collected to their respective head of houses.

Most of them had grouped up with their friends to hang around the village, some took the chance to land a date with their crushes, and the others opted to just explore the streets by themselves.

Belonging to the third group was one Rosalva Lilian Potter, whom currently sat in a private room on the third floor of Hogshead, right by a window. The teen casually nursed a glass of cognac in her hand despite the fact that she still had to wait two years before she was at the legal drinking age.

Piercing, green eyes gazed out of the window with detached boredom, looking down at the witches and wizards on the ground.

It has become a daily habit of hers - watching people, that is.

With no one close enough to call a friend nor anyone willing enough to give an unnamed witch a second of their time, Rosalva was left with an immeasurable amount of free time in her disposal - when she was not attending to her Wizengamot duties. Even the unruly amount of homework the professors gave them to prepare for the incoming N.E.W.T.s wasn't enough to keep her busy.

But it is of no matter, honestly.

From her daily observations, she was able to find all the little secrets that people have tried to hide in plain sight.

For example, behind that alley, there's a group of seventh year Gryffindors trying to stash an unholy amount of Butterbeers into a bag, going to try to smuggle it into their dorm room no doubt - she made a note to tip off Argus about their expendable bag.

And oh, Zabini is already moving onto his newest conquest? Wasn't he just snogging the life out of that one chit- Ah yes, and there she comes. Ouch! That seventh-year Selwyn got some nasty slap.

But of course, those were not the secrets that entertained her. What she preferred were deep secrets - secrets deep enough to be used as a potential blackmail material. Bonus points if it could legally put someone in trouble.

Like the fact that Rosmerta had just Imperiused a seventh-year Gryffindor - Bell, if she remembered her correctly - in the back alley of the Three Broomsticks and shoved a brown package into her hands before quickly scurrying away.

Well, isn't that just suspicious. Rosalva took another sip from her glass as she kept her gaze on the hazy-eyed girl.

Now normally, she would've sorted that tidbit of information into the 'less important' category in her mindscape as the barmaid doesn't really have a high standing in politics. But the fact that she'd also witnessed Malfoy cast the Imperius Curse and give the same brown package to the elder witch just earlier that morning made her think that there was something much bigger at play.

The Bell girl started to slowly walk towards another girl wearing a red and gold scarf - Spinnet, judging by her dark hair - who had been waiting for her at the front of the pub.

Rosalva kept her gaze locked on the duo, waiting patiently for something to happen.

Bell was arguing with Spinnet in one of the smaller, deserted roads when it happened.

Bell abruptly stopped in her tracks and rose several feet above the ground. Spinnet, who turned around at Bell's sudden silence, let out a high-pitched scream when she saw her friend high up in the air. Bell's body was hanging limply, looking as though she was being held up by an invisible force.

Rosalva tilted her head in wonder as she watched Bell start screaming herself hoarse in agony.

"Is that the Nebula Circlet? No, no, it wouldn't have fit into that small package." She muttered to herself, raising her glass again to sip on the aged cognag, as her other hand went to hold her chin, "I don't think it's the Valekith's Ring either, the girl is not bleeding out of her ears. Then what could have-? Ah! The Opal Necklace, of course!" Rosalva gasped excitedly in the dark room.

The ravenette gnawed on her bottom lips as she considered the risks of heading over and taking the necklace for herself. It's not like there's a lot of witnesses, and she could obliviate the both of them, no problem.

Nodding to herself, Rosalva quickly made her choice.

But just as she was about to get out of her seat, she saw the infamous Golden Trio running towards the still-hovering Bell.

Rosalva clicked her tongue in annoyance and slumped back into her chair, finishing the last of the cognag in a couple of gulps before filling it up to the brim for the sixth time that day.

Seeing Weasley running to fetch a professor and Granger trying her best to bring Bell back down, she let her gaze wonder again, the plan of stealing the artefact already forgone in her mind.

This time, she stopped on a very intriguing sight.

Death Eaters. Out in the open.

Four Death Eaters, to be exact.

She was able to recognize them immediately due to the high-level restricted files that'd been distributed amongst the Lords and Ladies in the last Wizengamot meeting - each bearing a picture at front - where they'd been discussing about the possible threat the Azkaban escapees could bring to the public.

Rosalva watched in fascination as Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and Bartemius Crouch Jr. threatened a shabby-looking wizard in another deserted street, not too far from where Longbottom and his friends were at. They seemed to be asking something from him, but the man just shook his head frantically.

It was only when one of the Lestange brothers lifted his wand in a threatening manner that he finally fess up - but fess up to what, she had no clue.

Immediately, female Lestrange let out a manic grin and dashed away - curiously, in the direction of the Hog's Head - leaving the other three with the frightened man.

Lestrange One and Two seemed to share a look of exasperation with each other before dashing after her, leaving Crouch Jr. to take care of the unfortunate wizard. Crouch Jr. quickly transfigured the man into another random pebble on the road before also heading towards the same direction where the other Death Eaters were rushing to, albeit in a slower and lazier pace.

Rosalva took another swig of her liquor, the glass obscuring her view of the Death Eaters. But when she put the glass back down, they were nowhere in sight.

"Pity. I was quite looking forward to seeing what chaos they were going to stir up." Rosalva sighed to herself just before she heard the sound of rapid thuddings coming from the floors below. The sound was followed by that notorious cackle-like laugh, which made her raise a brow in slight interest.

She stayed in her position, listening raptly as the footsteps seemed to get closer and closer. When she was sure that they've passed the second floor and were currently approaching the third floor, Rosalva took another swig on cognag, feeling very relaxed even as the same four Death Eaters busted the door inwards.

Upon the sight of Rosalva, the manic grin on Bellatrix Lestrange's face froze before it swiftly contorted into an ugly scowl. The two other Lestranges came just a few moments after - they stared at Rosalva for a couple of seconds, then at Bellatrix, before looking at each other with identical surprised looks.

Before anybody could utter a single word, Bartemius Crouch Jr. finally arrived. He merely took one look at the scene before him before lifting a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose, "I told you that Fletcher was lying." Crouch Jr. grumbled to his fellow Death Eaters.

At his sentence, the female Lestrange turned her ire to Crouch Jr., "Shut up, Barty! You didn't even help when we interrogated him!!" She pointed at him accusingly, to which he rolled his eyes in response.

"The Dark Lord ordered me to babysit you three. Not to join in on your childish endeavours." He huffed, which seemed to have irked Bellatrix even more.

Already forgetting the presence of their single audience, the present Death Eaters started to team up against Crouch Jr. - they accused him of all the little things he'd done and saying that he's not been helpful to the Dark Lord, the Lestrange with shorter hair then brought up the mistakes that'd been done in the far past, which opened a whole-nother can of worms and turned the dispute into a one-on-one-on-one-on-one debacle.

Some even started throwing curses at each other, though curiously, none had the intention to kill one another.

Still in her seat, Rosalva watched on in amusement as she sipped at her drink. When she realized that she'd emptied another glass of the liquor, Rosalva went ahead and poured herself another glass.

Unfortunately, the sound of liquid splashing around reminded the Death Eaters that they were not alone in the room, which made them pause their debate.

When she realized that her unexpected guests had stopped their bickering and were staring at her, Rosalva smiled pleasantly at them, "Oh, no need to mind little ol' me. I was quite enjoying the show." She said as she continued to fill her glass until it was up to the brim-

"Crucio!"

Striking red light flashed across the room from the tip of Bellatrix's wand. But even as the uttered spell approached her with great speed, Rosalva was able to avoid the incoming curse merely by tilting her chair backwards, letting it hit the window take the brunt in her stead.

Rosalva made a show of gasping loudly, "You should really be more careful with that thing, I almost spilt my drink." She berated, cradling said drink with the utmost care.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at the girl for a moment before following up with her onslaught barrage of curses which, to the Death Eater's alarm, she evaded in the manner that made it all seem so easy.

"Confringo! Strangulo! Cortices pellis! Combustum-!!"

As the curses came and went, Bellatrix's shout gradually got more and more frustrated each time she saw that her curse didn't even graze any part of the insolent child. Even her demand of 'Help me, you fools!!' had only pushed unnamed girl enough to start pulling up a couple of shield spells.

"Itty bitty, little witch thinks that she can play with the big and powerful Death Eaters?!" Bellatrix taunted before stopping abruptly, as the other three followed suit, "Alrighty then, let's play- FIENDFYRE!"

In an instant, red hue covered all sides of the room. A flaming mare was conjured from the tip of Bellatrix's wand as it started to gallop full speed ahead towards Rosalva. But even at the face of an oversized fiery mare, Rosalva was still unfazed from it all. It doesn't seem that she'd be evading this one attack.

With her one free hand, Rosalva gave a small wave at the galloping ball of fire. Out of the tips of her fingers shot out her own set of fire. Though, instead of taking shape, it grew and grew and grew until it was big enough to swallow the mare whole.

Another wave of her hand had it dwindle until it was but a blaze and vanished without a trace.

Shocked silence settled within the room.

Rosalva brought up the glass back to her lips before grimacing. "Warm alcohol should be made illegal, wouldn't you agree?" She told them conversationally. She twirled the drink once, frost beginning to creep on the edge of the glass before bringing it back to her lips.

This time, she smiled.

"There, much better."

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Aberforth: *Staring contemplatively from Rosalva to the pile of galleons on the counter*
Aberforth: "Aren't you a bit- young to have a drink, little missy?"
Rosalva: *Eyes narrowing* "I thought you weren't the type to ask your customers questions. Did I hear wrong?"
Aberforth: *Deadpan* "You're like twelve."
Rosalva: *Scoffing* "I'm thirteen."
Aberforth: *Eyebrow arching* "Is that supposed to be better?"

Rosalva: *Sighing in frustration* "Look. I only ask for a private, reserved room for only myself and some alcohol. Do you want the money or not?"
Aberforth: *Staring at her for another moment before finally nodding*
Aberforth: *Handing her a set of keys*
Aberforth: "There's a flat on the third floor. Never used it myself. I also won't be keeping it clean so you'll have to clean up after yourself."
Rosalva: *Nodding* "Not a problem."
Aberforth: "And I want fifteen galleons each hour."
Rosalva: *Snorting* "You will not. Three galleons."
Aberforth: "Thirteen."
Rosalva: "Five."
Aberforth: "Ten."
Rosalva: *Humming* "With an oath to not mention my being a regular to anyone."
Aberforth: *Grinning* "Deal."

Aberforth: "Anything of your fancy?"
Rosalva: "Whiskey, definitely. Perhaps even some cognac and rum."
Aberforth: *Staring suspiciously* "When did you first start drinking?"
Rosalva: *Staring back*
Rosalva: "Does it matter?"

❁❁❁

No, you didn't read it wrong nor was I mistaken of the timeline.

I deliberately moved the timeline up a year, so that Harry Potter and The Order of Phoenix would happen during their 6th year instead of the 5th.

It's not so much for the plot as it was to accommodate the sensibility of Rosalva's Wizengamot status, where a Lord/Lady could claim their Seats only if they finished their O.W.L.s - it's just a tiny bit of my world building that I wanted to pay attention to.

Following that note, it also means that nothing significant happened during their 5th year.

It's just a slight difference that I made for this fic, which I hope didn't confuse you lot too much.

P.S. I just re-read this chapter, and damn, I genuinely dunno how I associated Draco's plan to murder Dumbledore to HPTOoTP. But oh, well. It's not that big of a jump. I can build the plot around it no problem.

(Since I am such a good planner, as you can see).

Next Chapter: "Would you care for a drink, Le Mort?"

J Out!