Who needs a drink?
Who: Kingsley Shacklebolt; open to all.
What: Kingsley is tired of Pure-blood politics and goes for a pint.
Where: The Leaky Cauldron
When: 9th January, evening
Rating: ?
Status: In progress



It was as expected. It took a while before anyone cared to acknowledge Kingsley's presence, as if he was hard to overlook. Standing almost a head taller than most, and with his expensive and elaborate aqua-and-cobolt robe, embroidered in silver and pale pink, Kingsley was sure he almost blended in with the whitewashed walls. Or perhaps it was the dark-blue-and-green dragonhide boots? Yes, it had to be those. 60 Galleon boots, and then so boring and bland! Then again, it could be the fact that Kingsley, despite his high rank, which would have earned him prompt and courteous service just about anywhere else in the world, had the wrong pedigree. If people were stupid enough to believe in such nonsense, of course.

Unfortunately for Kingsley and the wizarding world, there was no doubt that some witches and wizards were that stupid. And Kingsley had dealt with a few since eight this morning. The meetings in the Department for Magical Games and Sports had been tedious. It was definitely not the Pure-blood elite that ran that department. It was easier to manage the higher-ups. They were usually clever enough to be at least remotely polite. But the underlings, Merlin's beard! What a bunch of utter idiots! Kingsley had a lot of patience, but he'd almost ran out of it.

Finally Kingsley got his pint. He found a table in the back of the room. He could only manage so many annoying people in one day. This way he could sit quietly with his drink and still keep an eye on the other guests; hopefully someone with half a brain might show up to keep him company. If he was lucky the Pure-blood pests would leave him alone.

Kingsley heaved a sigh and drank a third of the ale in one go.