Chapter 1: Qrow walks into a bar (when doesn't he?)

Usually when there's a disturbance, the Vale Police Department is sent to take care of it. The friends and helpers of the common citizens of Vale were competent, there was no doubt about that.

But when the cause of the disturbance is described as a sound comparable to the screams of a hundred Grimm, people get wary. It might have been a dozen Grimm, really, but with 8 calls about the same events, the number obviously adds up.

In that case, police force isn't too proud to give Beacon a call and ask Ozpin for a teacher or two.

Unfortunately for Qrow, he was present when Ozpin received the call, and the only available teacher during this time of the day was an old friend of his.

"I can't believe you still show up drunk to every meeting," she muttered.

Her nagging was still the same after all these years.

"And I can't believe you can sit through them sober," Qrow said. Glynda Goodwitch wasn't always this stuck up, but she was definitely a model student back in the day. Being a teacher at beacon must have murdered her sense of fun.

"Some people know what responsibility is," Glynda said. Her glare aimed at the back of his head was dismissed with a swig of Qrow's trusty flask. "Can you even fight like this?"

"How could you even fight with-"

"Shut up."

Qrow did, a playful grin on his face. The sun was sinking over the buildings, giving the sky a red tint.

Their journey took them into a rather less reputable neighborhood, the commotion growing louder with every step, and eventually they came to see the source of the disturbance. A man in a white shirt with long sleeves with a red and golden vest over it stood in front of a shop, a pile of men in front of him. In his hand was a stick.

Qrow didn't really have much to say besides pointing at him with a thumb, looking over to Glynda, and making a joke out of it. "Look, it's one of your people."

The man turned around when Glynda turned pink, blinking at them with a confused look on his face. The black haired man who looked about thirty years old wore glasses that framed his clear green eyes.

"Look, he even wears glasses."

Unfortunately for Glynda, Qrow was the kind of person who knew how to get under her skin. While she would always keep a level head around people like Ozpin, a stranger like the man in front of them didn't quite rank that high up.

So nobody could really blame her for lifting her wand and sending a pebble at Qrow's head. When he lazily turned his head to dodge it, the stone instead hit one of the men on the ground.

"Excuse me," the man in red said. "Could it be that you're the police? I'm afraid I've been waiting for a while after someone ran off to call them."

"Something like that," Qrow said. "We get called when the fighting sounds like Grimm. Not sure how someone could've made that mistake."

The glasses wearing man smiled warmly. "I can't imagine how, either."

Then his eyes widened as if recalling something. And without further ado, he walked into the shop, his stick in hand and waving it around. A few seconds later, the body of another man was dragged out, bigger than the others on the ground.

"I'm afraid this is the leader of the bunch, they decided to visit my shop, telling me to set up elsewhere."

"Your shop?" Qrow asked.

The man pointed at the sign above the door. "My bar. Let me welcome you, my first customers! I'm Harry Potter, I'll be your bartender today."

Glynda blinked, while Qrow stared at the man until Harry began giggling like a giddy child.

"I'm sorry, I always wanted to say that, really has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"You sound bored," Qrow said. Harry shrugged.

"Want to come in? First drink's on the house."

"Don't even think about it," Glynda growled.

Qrow stepped through the door.

"When have I ever thought about going into a bar? Just call the VPD, they can take care of some crooks."

"Qrow!"

The ambiance was weirdly colorful for a bar. Everything from red to green and blue hung from the walls, emblems of various animals on them. Qrow didn't mind, it smelled like booze, so it couldn't be a bad bar.

Sitting down at the counter, Qrow shut down the outside world, and the rather loud voice of Glynda as she was calling the VPD, concentrating on the drink that Harry put down in front of him. It had the smell of a whisky, but the smell was weird.

"My own creation," Harry said, smiling. Qrow raised an eyebrow - people making their own alcohol wasn't all that common anymore, huge factories produced these things en masse, cheaply getting half the world drunk. One of the best industries. If he hadn't become a huntsman, Qrow was sure that he'd have worked at some brewery. "Careful, though, it might be a bit strong for a newbie."

"Lemme be the judge of that," Qrow said, holding back a snort. Some guy who looked barely older than him trying to teach him, Qrow Branwen, about drinking? That'll be the day. Taking the glass and downing the whisky in one fell swoop, Qrow gave Harry a grin as he brought it back down. It was good, great even- then why was the barkeeper grinning so knowingly?

It began slowly. Or maybe it was fast, but for Qrow it felt like an eternity. A burning feeling came up in his chest and smoke escaped his mouth. For the first time in years, Qrow was left coughing after a drink, hitting his chest with a fist. When the burning feeling subsided, all Qrow felt was happiness.

"Care for another?" Harry asked.

"Give me a bottle," Qrow said, slamming the money on the counter.

"Just for my first customer, I'll give you one for free."

Harry had the feeling he'd make the money back in no time.

Qrow greedily pocketed the bottles of 'Potter's Magical Firewhiskey'. Harry didn't have much to do right now, and Qrow wasn't very talkative. The smoke that escaped Qrow's nose and ears after each sip was the only change that took place in the bar until someone all but kicked the door in.

Well it was less of a kick, and more of a wand movement. Glynda strode into the bar with her wand leveled at Qrow. "We're not here to drink, Qrow!"

"I know you're not," Qrow said, raising his glass towards Glynda. "But if you tried this, I'm sure you'd keep me some company."

Or it'd shut her up. Someone who could hold his liquor like Qrow took a minute to regain some sense of speech. Someone like Glynda would probably be coughing for twenty minutes at least.

"The police are here and want to take our statements, yours too-"

She looked at Harry, who gave a glance towards her weapon of choice out of the corner of his eyes. "Miss, could I ask you not to wave a weapon around in my shop? I've no issue with you being armed, but it does set a rather annoying precedent."

Glynda closed her mouth slowly at his words, blinking for a moment before complying. She knew Qrow wasn't the kind of person that could be convinced with words, and the meeting with Ozpin wasn't anywhere near done when they had been ordered to take care of this mess.

"Let's try again," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "I'm Harry Potter, owner of this establishment. May I ask for your names?"

"Qrow Branwen," Qrow introduced himself. Not waiting for Glynda to remember her actual reason for standing in the bar she refused to step into earlier, Qrow pointed at her. "And that's Glynda Goodwitch."

"As my second customer in this bar, Glynda Goodwitch, would you care for a free drink?"

Harry was rather liberal in handing out his booze. It'd probably make him a lot of friends in the future, Qrow thought. Staring into his glass, the fiery whisky staring back at him, Qrow decided he had at least one now. There's nothing men can bond over better than alcohol.

"I have to refuse," Glynda said. "We're supposed to be in a meeting, and the police already came to pick the men up, so we can go now."

"That's too bad," Harry said. "Please do come visit me when you have time, it'd be sad to miss out on having such a pretty woman visit me once in a while."

Glynda's eyebrow twitched at the blatant flirting, and Qrow coughed slightly, though she couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or a choked laugh. Then the door of the bar was actually kicked in. With a leg.

"He has my gun!" Qrow heard someone shout. Turning around, they all saw one of the men that was on the ground earlier holding a VPD weapon, aimed at Glynda's back. Considering her Aura, it was unlikely to do any damage, and neither Qrow or Glynda were particularily worried. Harry, however, reacted swiftly, raising his own stick - a wand like Glynda's if Qrow could see correctly through his ever-drunken haze - and sending the man against the wall, the gun twisting and turning before falling apart.

"No weapons in my bar."

The words were clear, and the man was screaming in fright when a swing of Harry's wand sent him flying through the door and into one of the police cars. The pieces of the weapon gathered outside and turned back into a gun again.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Qrow asked. He had seen Harry drag the other man out using the wand earlier, but something like that took way more effort than just having your Aura unlocked. It'd need the right kind of Semblance.

"I had to pick up some tricks when I was younger," Harry answered. "You should see what I can do with a broomstick."

Qrow snorted, black smoke rising from his nose. Glynda stared at Harry's wand and actually felt her cheeks warm up.

Harry sighed as he locked the door to his bar, using his wand to add some spells that'd keep everything secure. That wasn't quite how he imagined his business' opening day, but it wasn't too bad either.

At the very least he had his first customer now! The official opening would be tomorrow, so he still had all the time in the world to make some noise and announce the best bar that Vale has to offer.

Even if the residents didn't even know yet.

Bartender wasn't exactly on the top of his list of things he planned to do with his life. He wanted to be a teacher, but there were problems with the world, and even though he knew that he shouldn't care too much, it was hard to just ignore everything. When he first arrived here, his first thought was to be a teacher of some kind, the people here had something akin to magic, but in the end, it was only superficial. Inhuman abilities that manifested differently for each person with a common source called 'Aura'.

And then he learned about the wars. And the Faunus. And the White Fang. The Grimm. The kind of schools. Remnant, as Harry learned it was called, was a dangerous place. Probably more dangerous than England was during the height of Voldemort's reign.

He couldn't really be a teacher for academies that trained child soldiers. Kind of. They started young, though they only finished by the time they were adults, it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

So Harry chose the most neutral position he could. Everyone was equal in front of booze.

And of course, the image of standing behind a counter and being the cryptical and powerful bartender that everyone knows but nobody knows anything about was pretty cool.