Okay, this new story is another reboot of the Gryffindor Princess. Yeah I know it's the third, but I rethought the plot and hopefully it will be good.

Violet was a teen that had developed curves in all the right places. She had creamy-ivory skin, dark-red lips, high cheekbones, a button nose and almond shaped Emerald-green eyes framed by long thick lashes along with an hourglass figure. She was currently dressed in her outfit of thick robes that would keep out the freezing cold weather that was the Scotland in the middle of the Christmas Period.

She along with her two good friends, Ron and Hermione was beside her at the nice small cosy pub that was the Three Broomsticks. It was extremely crowded, noisy, warm, and smoky. A curvy sort of woman with a pretty face was serving a bunch of rowdy warlocks up at the bar.

"That's Madam Rosmerta," said Ron. "I'll get the drinks, shall I?" he added, going slightly red.

Violet and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.

"Merry Christmas!" he said happily, raising his tankard.

Violet drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of herself up from the inside.

A sudden breeze ruffled her hair. The door of the Three Broomsticks had opened again. Violet looked over the rim of her tankard and choked.

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak — Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

In an instant, Ron and Hermione had both placed hands on the top of Violet's head and forced her off his stool and under the table due to the fact that Violet was not meant to be there in the first place. Dripping with butterbeer and crouching out of sight, Violet clutched her empty tankard and watched the teachers' and Fudge's feet move toward the bar, pause, then turn and walk right toward them.

Somewhere above him, Hermione whispered, "Mobiliarbus!"

The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view.

Staring through the dense lower branches, Violet saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, and then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

Next he saw another pair of feet, wearing sparkly turquoise high heels, and heard a woman's voice.

"A small gillywater —"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Four pints of mulled mead —"

"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella —"

"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Minister."

Violet watched the glittering heels march away and back again. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably in her throat. Why hadn't it occurred to her that this was the last weekend of term for the teachers too? And how long were they going to sit there? She needed time to sneak back into Honeydukes if she wanted to return to school tonight as the glittering heels return.

"Well Minister, it is nice to see you here. Only the second time, since you've taken office which was about eight years ago." said Rosmerta with a small smile, but as Violet looked closer, her eyes held a small sight of mistrust in them.

"My dear Rosmerta, the life of the minister is a pressing one." said Fudge with an unease smile.

"Sure a once a year visit would be fine or a reply to one of my many letters to tell you that you sir have been a fool." said Rosmerta with a small scowl. "I mean, the fact that you put Dementors here is a testament to that fact."

"The Dementors are here on a temporary basis until Sirius Black is caught." replied Fudge uneasily.

"At the time where the economy is on the fall. Thanks to your great idea of hosting the world cup with your brand new stadium sucking the pockets of the tax payers for the next ten years as we have to repay our loan to the goblins who would take all our gold if it wasn't for their best interest to share nicely."

"The world cup would be a big success for all sectors of the working class will gain part of the earnings. Business will get the benefits of this."

"Not Hogsmeade. We are on the other side of the country, minister." snarled Rosmerta, a look of anger on her face. "Add that onto the fact that your office has rejected my access to my goddaughter for the last twelve years and I'm going to be pissed at you."

Flitwick glanced at Rosmerta. "I didn't know you were close enough to anyone to be a godmother. Who is it?"

"The Minister should know as well as I do that my Goddaughter is Violet Potter." growled out Rosmerta as she stared the minister down who had the good frame of mind to look slightly ashamed.

Sorry about the time I was gone. It was just because of a major death in my family and I was unable to write due to the lack of muse. But I'm back now.

Please review and tell what you think.

I'd try and get updates back to normal.