Noticing

You noticed a lot of things when you were a barmaid, Madam Rosmerta reflected as she wiped a glass with a clean rag.

She had worked at the Three Broomsticks ever since she left Hogwarts, practically. Her parents had wanted her to go into some sort of work at the Ministry - maybe even become an Auror, but Rosmerta knew she wasn't cut out for a difficult job like that. She was the sort of person who was happy staying where she was, living a simple life. She didn't want adventure. The biggest excitement she got was when the men had drunk too many Firewhiskys and became a little overly friendly, but a well-aimed jinx did the trick. The pub had become a home to her, and it was one she liked very much.

Yes, Rosmerta was happy with her lot in life. She got to do the job she loved, meet lots of people, and got to hear little snippets of interesting information from people, both strangers and acquaintances. Nobody paid much attention to her when she strolled over to a table to deliver an order, or collect up a few empty glasses. In fact, most of them didn't even bother to stop talking, which bode well for Rosmerta. A lot of it was just mindless, idle gossip, but there was the occasion when she heard something really worth listening to. The tidbits she heard from her patrons were probably a lot more accurate than what the Daily Prophet reported.

In fact, Rosmerta had first heard about the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named a while before the Prophet reported it. The Potter boy was a frequent visitor to her pub, coming down on with his companions on their regular Hogsmeade weekends for a Butterbeer and a secret conversation. At the very end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, Harry and his friends, the Weasley boy and the bushy-haired girl, had come in on their last Hogsmeade weekend before term ended. Rosmerta hadn't deliberately eavesdropped; her ears had been trained over the years to perk up only when she heard something that could directly affect her or the wizarding community. She had walked over to their table to give them their drinks, and had caught a snatch of their conversation. The Weasley boy had been talking louder than he should have, and sounded frantic.

"But if Voldemort's back, then -"

At this, Rosmerta had stopped abruptly. The bushy-haired Granger girl nudged him hard in the ribs, and Weasley quickly closed his mouth. Rosmerta had raised one eyebrow, but all three had remained silent, staring down at the table. Rosmerta decided not to act as if anything was out of the ordinary.

"One cherry syrup -"

"Mine," Granger spoke up.

"And two Butterbeers."

"Thanks," said Harry with a smile. Weasley muttered his thanks under his breath, blushing to the roots of his flaming red hair as he took his drink without looking at her.

As Rosmerta made her way back to the bar, she mused over the few words she had caught of their conversation. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named - back? It hardly seemed possible, but...

Rosmerta did not doubt Potter's word. After all, who would know about You-Know-Who's doings more than him? The two had a connection going back years, and if You-Know-Who really had returned, then it was obvious that he would immediately seek out Potter. If Potter said he was back, then it was most likely that it was true.

Rosmerta was not the type of woman to get into a flap. However, as she began to pour more drinks, she began to wonder... maybe things were about to happen. Maybe the wizarding world was about to be rocked, and maybe her quiet existence was going to suddenly become more exciting than she would like. With a collective shudder, Madam Rosmerta headed back out with another tray of drinks. She didn't want to dwell on it now. There was still time, after all... and right now she had customers to serve.