Harry Potter Oneshots

Barkeep (Fred Weasley II)

Whenever I have to work the dead shift at the Inn, grandfather gives me an array of defensive and offensive spells that can incapacitate any enemies that dare appear. He continues for what feels like hours until my mother pulls him upstairs to go through his recommended physical therapy exercises. Unfortunately, due to my entire family being early setters I had to close a lot and thus endure the speech until he either realized it was futile or mother got impatient.

The Hog's Head Inn had been in my family for generations, starting with my great-grandfather Aberforth who'd purchased it after becoming estranged from his brother, the esteemed and deceased Albus Dumbledore. My great-grandfather had retired happily many years ago, leaving the inn to his son, also known as my Grandpa Abram.

Today had been Saturday, so the bar had been filled to the brim with both our usual patrons getting drunker than usual due to the weekend and schoolchildren eager to prove their nerve by coming inside despite being no older than I was. I'd been receiving curious looks all day, as one would expect when being served a strong alcoholic beverage by someone who couldn't legally drink it yet.

The bar is fairly empty, holding only a few patrons left. One man with a shock of red hair stands out in particular, not just because of the unusually bright color but also because of the group of three men in the corner whispering and shooting him looks. He doesn't seem to notice, opting instead to chug his drink that, from the wince he gives afterward, doesn't seem to be alcohol-free.

Right when he finishes his cup and motions for Lynn, a friend of mine and the only other one unfortunate enough to be working on a Saturday night, to fill up his cup again the three men stand and make their way over to his table.

"You're that idiot Weasley's son, aren't ya?" One of them sneers at the man. That explains the red hair, I suppose.

I shuffle closer to them from behind the bar, switching the towel I'd been using to clean the countertop with my right hand in favor of my wand. I busy myself with polishing glasses with the other hand, though I keep a stern eye on the situation. I mentally list the spells grandfather had emphasized earlier under my breath and cursed myself for not paying very good attention as I usually did.

"You're going to have to be more specific," Weasley smiles bitterly at the man, though any idiot could tell he was absolutely plastered. "A lot of Weasleys, you know. Would you like me to name a few?"

"Don't go gettin' smart with me. He's just like George," he remarks to the men around him. Turning back to Weasley who'd taken another sip from his drink he continues. "Yer dad was a right pain in my arse, and I'm willing tah bet he wouldn't like it if we knocked a few teeth outta his kid," another of the group grins, revealing he had a few missing teeth himself.

"Ah, I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it, no. You truly are a brilliant man for coming to that — "

The man clearly didn't like his tone, and he shows it by rearing his fist back to slam into the red-head's face. He groans in pain but doesn't stand back up from where he'd fallen, Lynn shrieking hysterically in the corner. I leap over the bar in a moment and point my wand at the group.

"Put that thing away, dear," Another man chuckles cockily. My grip on my wand tightens in annoyance. He reaches for his own wand but I quickly cast a biting jinx on his pocket and it digs its newfound teeth into his hand. He howls and I mutter a stickfast hex, effectively gluing his shoes to the ground so as he tries to stagger back he falls flat, losing his shoes in the process.

With one incapacitated, I whirl on the other who had approached with his arms extended and quickly cast an Ebublio jinx. Before he can grab me like he'd clearly been planning, he is enveloped in a giant bubble that floats out the door, his screams muffled inside. Not for the first time, I'm grateful father spent time working on that one with me.