If there was one place that they were safe, it was the Three Broomsticks. There was nothing menacing in there; just the clatter of glass hitting wood, the low rumble of people, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter.
The Marauders, having left Lily and Marian with their other friends, were seated around a rustic wooden table, talking about every random thing that ran though their minds. They had briefly mused about the words on the door, but it was possible that someone from the school had painted them there because people were getting a little overconfident.
“Although,” Sirius remarked, slamming his mug onto the table in a parody of drunkenness, “you’d think they could’ve at least told us that they would be adding more stuff to the Shack. It’s only polite.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Told you? Why would they tell you? You don’t know anything about it or me, remember?”
“Oh. Right. I forgot.”
“You always forget,” Remus mumbled into his mug. “You need to be more careful.”
“Whatzat?”
“Nothing.”
Remus fell into silence, staring absently out the window. The snow-laden wind hustled the passersby along the streets, shooing them into the nearby shops. Get inside, the wind seemed to say, or I’ll blow you away. I’ll sweep you off your feet and put you down in a place far away from here, a place that you won’t know or like.
Pretty violent for the same wind that created the summer breezes that did little more than ruffle your hair.
Few people were on the streets anymore. The storm was intensifying. Only a single traveler walked down the road outside the tavern.
Remus set down his mug with a thunk and squinted.
“What’s the matter, Moony?” Peter asked anxiously. “There isn’t anything… bad out there, is there?”
“That girl.” Remus pointed out the window. “Look at her.”
A single figure was being blown down the main street, back to the wind. She wore Muggle clothing- a loose, dark blue hoodie with patches on the elbows and a pair of jeans with several large pockets on the legs. Her head was wrapped in a faded pink shawl so that it covered her head and “Remus squinted- the right half of her face. A single hand was raised to her face, the fingertips touching the side of the forehead, like someone with a headache will do.
“Weird,” James commented.
The girl turned and stared at them. They caught a glimpse of a pale, narrow chin and a plump lower lip, puckered in a slight frown. One eye glared at them eerily.
“Don’t think the lady likes your comment, Prongs,” Sirius grinned, looking at the figure interestedly. “Maybe I’ll have better luck.”
Not again… Remus sighed. What was it with Sirius and drooling over every girl he saw?
The girl opened the door the Three Broomsticks and strolled in. Most of the people didn’t notice her, but a few shuffled to the side to let her though, as though afraid that she might curse them.
Sirius pushed his hair back smoothly and leaned his chair back onto two legs. The girl looked at him for another moment and then turned towards the counter.
Sirius hopped up and strutted over to the counter, leaning up against it and looking casually at the girl. He opened his mouth and began to talk to her.
James sat up interestedly. “We’re accepting bets, gents,” he said. “I say the girl ignores him.”
“He is Padfoot, though,” Peter commented. “I don’t see why his methods shouldn’t work like they always do. What do you say, Moony?”
“Mmph?” Remus had started staring out the window again.
“Okay, Moony’s out,” James said. “Loser buys the next round.”
Sirius, looking triumphant, wove his way back thought he crowd, girl in tow and two mugs in his hands.
Peter smirked at James. “Pay up, Prongs.”
“Another bet? Honestly,” Sirius said, sliding the two mugs onto the table and shoving James to the side to make room for the girl, “you guys should know better than to bet against me.”
They chortled quietly amongst themselves. The girl’s mouth puckered even more.
“I am not here as a prize, Mr. Black,” she said quietly, a flat American drawl saturating her speech. “Now where is Dumbledore?”
“He’s not here at the moment,” Sirius explained, playing with his mug. “You look cold. Drink your Butterbeer and then we’ll go find him.” He took a long swallow.
She glared at him. “Mr. Black-”
“Sirius,” he corrected her. “I’m Sirius. These are James, Peter, and Remus.” He made a wide gesture with a lanky arm. “This is Francesca, guys. She’s on a secret mission and has to speak with Dumbledore about-”
Francesca slapped a hand over Sirius’s mouth. “Fool,” she hissed. “You fool. You will bring all of his followers down upon our heads, is that what you want, you rash boy?”
Sirius looked highly offended. “I’m not rash.”
His friends choked on their drinks. Remus had to be pounded on the back by James a couple of times.
Sirius glared at them. “Way to show support, guys,” he pouted.
“S-sorry,” James spluttered. “I didn’t mean to. But you have to admit-” he gasped again, his face a bit pink, “-that you aren’t exactly the model of-”
“Neither are you,” Sirius said grumpily. “None of you are. Well, except for Moony,” he added as an afterthought.
“Moony?” Francesca looked at Remus. “He is referring to you?”
Remus nodded unwittingly. A minute later he regretted it.
Francesca rose from her seat, walked over to where he sat, and gripped his arm very tightly, bitten-down nails clawing into his skin.
“Oww!” he yelped, surprised. “What’re you-”
“You are the careful one,” Francesca said, twisting his arm painfully, “so you will take me to Dumbledore.” She jerked him out of his seat roughly and glared.
Sirius stood up. “Whoa, whoa,” he said in what was supposed to be a placating voice. “Calm down. I told you, we’ll go as soon as we’re done with the drinks-”
Francesca flicked open a fist, revealing that she had somehow acquired what looked like a steak knife. She gently stabbed Remus’s throat a couple of times, not breaking the skin. “We will go now,” she snarled. “Now, or you will no longer have your sensible friend.”
The other three drew their wands and pointed them at Francesca. “I don’t know what you problem is,” James said in his best tough-guy voice, “but believe me, you don’t want to mess with the Marauders.”
Francesca just laughed. “You silly little sticks do not frighten me any more than you do,” she spat. “Believe me, there is only one wand-wielder I fear, and it is certainly not some schoolboy.”
All three opened their mouths, probably to hex the living daylights out of her. However, she just forced Remus out the door.
“Now,” she said, leaning over him and sounding very dangerous, “you will take me to Dumbledore.”
Remus snorted disdainfully. He wrenched his arms, trying “and failing- to break her grip.
"No? Have it your way, then."
Francesca took several deep, steadying breaths and leaned into something, face screwed up in concentration. And, a second later, they were enveloped in sunlight, watching the Hogsmeade winter through a snow globe.