Chapter 11: Back to Life

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The new year brought with it the promise of a new term, but the closer Artemis got to returning to school, the more she found herself dreading it.

As darkness fell on the last night of the Christmas holidays, she packed her belongings into her yellow rucksack, and as the inn grew louder and rowdier below her, sat awake in her bed listening to the sounds of the punters and staring at the bulging bag. It was gone midnight when she heard Rosmerta ringing the bell for last orders, and the familiar clinking noises of her enchanting the bar and the empty glasses to clean themselves.

When she was sure that Rosmerta had returned to her own room, Artemis lit her wand, padded down the corridor, and paused outside the landlady's bedroom, Fergus following behind her. Gnawing on her bottom lip, she raised her fist and knocked on the wooden door.

"Who is it?" Rosmerta's voice called out.

"It's me, Ros. Artemis."

"Come in, love."

With Rosmerta's approval, Artemis and Fergus entered the room. It was much larger than Artemis' guest room, with a small kitchen area, a bookshelf and a desk, as well as a bed, on which Rosmerta sat, wearing a pair of reading glasses and looking at Artemis over the top of a copy of Witch Weekly magazine.

"Couldn't sleep?" asked Rosmerta. Artemis shook her head, and Ros tilted hers. "Do you want to sit and read about Gilderoy Lockhart with me?"

Wordlessly, Artemis went over to Rosmerta's bed, and the landlady shuffled over to make room for her to sit down. She opened the magazine, and Artemis stared at the smiling picture of the famous author, who winked at her from the shiny page.

"He's not my usual type. I prefer them more rugged, if you know what I mean," Rosmerta said, leaning in towards Artemis conspiratorially. Artemis nodded, despite not really knowing, or even caring, at all. "We all have our guilty pleasures, though, I suppose."

Artemis said nothing, and although Rosmerta's smile didn't fade, her eyes grew sad, and she placed a hand on Artemis' knee.

"Why couldn't you sleep, Artemis?"

"Just thinking, I suppose."

"That sounds dangerous," Rosmerta wriggled her eyebrows. Artemis didn't laugh. She merely shrugged. "What were you thinking about?"

"School."

"Are you worried about going back tomorrow?"

"No," Artemis shook her head. "I was thinking that I won't go back. I thought that maybe I could stay here with you instead."

Rosmerta sighed, closed her magazine, and placed it on her nightstand.

"Artemis..."

"I could pay you for my room, there's money in my family's account at Gringotts, and my mum won't mind, she's not even around to care."

"You have to go back to school, love," Rosmerta said. Artemis was going to protest, but the landlady continued. "You aren't seventeen yet, and you haven't taken your N.E.W.T.s."

"I'll be seventeen in May, and I have my O.W.L.s. I don't need N.E.W.T.s."

"You do if you want to have all your options open to you when you're older."

"That's okay, I don't mind not having options," Artemis insisted. "I'd be happy just to work in a bar, like you."

Madam Rosmerta laughed, and Artemis realised that what she had just said had probably sounded rude.

"I just mean that I don't need N.E.W.T.s to work here, and I think I'd really like being a barmaid," she said, quickly, but Ros shook her head.

"No, you wouldn't."

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