104 Year Five - Prologue

I whistled a catchy tune as I rubbed, scrubbed and dealt with the most dangerous offender of them all. The counter's polished gleam reflected my smiling expression back, and as I quietly hummed along to the beat that came from the top corner of the room, a spindly patron lifted a finger, and I snapped my fingers, sending a Butterbeer to float his way with delicious frothy foam.

Admittedly, it had taken me a week to get things pristine-perfect. One hard week of scrubbing, of wizardly products, and of pretty much anything I could use. I had even bought industrial-grade acids to deal with the toilets, and that was a memory of Vietnam I would rather go without.

Well, not that it mattered. The glasses were sparkling clean, the seats refurbished, and the Hog's Head had been bathed and now smelled faintly of musk, and mostly of wild berries.

I hadn't put a pink ribbon on top of it because otherwise I was reasonably sure Aberforth would have just killed me and gone to Azkaban on the spot, but with that out of the way, the man was enjoying what I could only feel was his vacation period. He stuck around the bar, and dealt with the suppliers, but mostly seemed to enjoy the fact he could just dally around or spend time taking long walks in the wilderness of Hogsmeade with his sheep.

And no, I did not ask, I did not query, and I did not want to know.

I merely enjoyed working. It was a reality of my life; he who enjoys his work will not work a single day of his life, but rather have fun, always. It also helped that whenever Aberforth wasn't around, I could swish my wand and clean stuff up.

"Do you have something cool and refreshing? It's positively hellish out there!" a wrinkly witch asked, coming in while sweating bullets, a large dark hat and equally black clothes somehow telling me that the source of the heat was also in the clothing.

"We have smoothies, slush, ice-cream cones and popsicles," I said, "We also have coffee cream and cold brew coffee," I hummed as I made a mental checklist. "We should also have melons if you prefer refreshing fruit, and there's always the frosty Butterbeer."

The wrinkly witch got her order, took a seat, and then gasped in relief.

I hummed pleasantly, polishing a new set of glasses. "Good old Aberforth finally took someone on who knows how to use a mop," the witch said, making conversation. "He paying you well, lad?" she asked with a hawk-like gaze. "Don't you worry about a thing if he's too stubborn to see your worth. You tell him old Baggy will curse his beard off if he doesn't see reason, tell him that, will you?"

I gave the old lady a small nod, and a smile. "I will, but it's all right. Mister Dumbledore is a great boss," I neared and whispered with an amiable smile, "The kind that's actual kind gentle and lets you fix the place up without too much grumbling too. He's just a bit shy, but quite the softy."

The old witch giggled at that, and I resumed my polishing and my delivery of sweet, cold treats as well as drinks.

"Dragon spit!" a wizard grumbled, "A shot!"

"Aye, alcohols you pay first," I answered, coming to a halt in front of the wizard. He looked me straight in the eye, and in turn I glared back. He fumbled in his pockets, pulled out the sickles required, and I nodded, smiling warmly as I grabbed what was needed before pouring him a shot of his favorite poison.

Then I moved to another side of the counter, a mother with child looking at the ice-cream selection. "Some are muggle, so no fancy moving or what else," I warned, "But they're tasty all the same."

"I'll have a Vanilla cone," the mother said, sighing as the child whined while pointing at another. "You already ate your sweets' fill at Honeydukes."

"But I want an ice-cream too," the kid whined.

The mother, surprisingly, remained sternly steadfast and dragged the kid away.

Sorry kiddo, I'm not going to gift free ice-cream to your crying, bawling eyes.

You need to work in order to earn money in order to do what you want with your life.

Work is money. Money is freedom.

"Huff," I grumbled at the end of the long day, stretching and yawning as I watched Aberforth literally doze off in a corner of the counter. The night hours were his to deal with, while I went upstairs to do the homework and sleep. There was little I could do as a pastime, if not for the secret pathway that connected back to the Room of Requirements at Hogwarts, and which I may, or may not, have abused.

But then again, since school wasn't in session, I found the room nearly always empty. From there, I could head into the Hall of Shadows and spend time with my precious gargoyles, those poor dearies missing me something fierce judging by how they'd crawl by my side and whine pitifully like dogs, flapping their wings every now and then.

I'd make more in my free time.

The more the merrier, after all.

Thus, as the new year was about to begin, everything was going better than I had ever expected it to be.

It was going to be a fun, happy, Voldemort-free year at Hogwarts.

But everything changed.

Everything changed, when the Umbridge-Nation attacked.