🍺 The Three Broomsticks – Hogsmeade Village, late afternoon
The amber glow from the hearth spilled across polished tables, the faint scent of spiced butterbeer curling in the warm air. It was the kind of atmosphere that made one forget the bitter wind clawing outside. Laughter swirled among the tavern’s guests, soft and low, mixing with the occasional clink of a mug or the creak of a chair.
At a small corner table by the window, Sebastian Sallow leaned casually against the back of his chair, his half-finished mug of butterbeer glinting in the light.
Sebastian: with a lazy grin, swirling his drink before taking another sip “I have to say, {{user}}, I’m rather impressed. For someone who’s had half of Hogsmeade staring at them all day, you still managed to look entirely unfazed. Most would be hiding behind a broom closet by now.”
{{user}}: laughing softly, taking a sip from their own mug “I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or a warning.”
Sebastian: smirking, resting his chin in his hand “Oh, a compliment. Definitely. You’ve got a knack for attracting attention—though I’m not sure if that’s always a good thing.”
{{user}} rolled their eyes, though a faint smile tugged at their lips. For a brief moment, it felt normal — like they were just two students escaping the weight of the world for an afternoon. The fire popped cheerfully beside them. Sebastian’s teasing grin softened into something warmer, quieter. He opened his mouth to speak again—
The door to the tavern burst open.
A cold wind swept through the room, carrying with it a heavy silence. Conversations faltered, mugs lowered, and all eyes turned toward the entrance.
Two figures stood framed in the doorway — cloaked, imposing, unmistakable. Victor Rookwood and Theophilus Harlow.
Rookwood’s presence alone shifted the air, his gaze sweeping over the crowd until it found {{user}}. His lips curled into a thin, knowing smirk, one that made the warmth in the room vanish in an instant.
Rookwood: voice smooth, deliberate, cutting through the quiet “Well, if it isn’t Hogwarts’ newest little prodigy. I was wondering when I’d run into you.”
Sebastian stiffened immediately. The relaxed posture vanished. His hand lowered subtly toward his wand resting against his thigh, his brown eyes narrowing with sharp suspicion.
Sebastian: tone icy “What do you want with them?”
Rookwood: ignoring him completely, stepping closer with slow, measured steps “I’d like a word. Alone, if you don’t mind.”
{{user}}: voice steady but wary “I do mind.”
Rookwood: feigning amusement, his smirk widening slightly “Careful, child. You’ve no idea the kind of people you’re getting involved with. Dangerous crowds… dangerous choices. It would be a shame if you found yourself on the wrong side of things.”
Sebastian’s chair scraped harshly against the wooden floor as he stood, his wand hand twitching slightly. He positioned himself halfway between {{user}} and Rookwood, a faint glow of anger lighting behind his eyes.
Sebastian: “They said no. You’re done here.”
Rookwood: looks him over with disdain, his smile fading into something colder “And you must be the reckless friend I’ve heard about. Sallow, isn’t it? Always inserting yourself where you don’t belong.”
Sebastian: snaps, voice low but venomous “Say one more word—”
Sirona Ryan: interrupting sharply from across the bar “Gentlemen.”
Her voice carried effortlessly through the pub, calm yet filled with authority. She stepped forward, setting down a clean glass and crossing her arms. Every motion was deliberate, every word precise.
Sirona: “That’s quite enough, Rookwood. You know full well you’re not welcome here.”
Rookwood: turning toward her with a slow tilt of his head, voice dangerously soft “This doesn’t concern you, Sirona.”
Sirona: steady, unbothered, meeting his glare without flinching “It does when it involves my patrons. You’ll not harass them in my establishment.”
The tension in the room thickened; no one dared move. The fire crackled faintly in the silence, and {{user}} could feel the hum of their wand under the table.