Kingsley laughed, half-way bitterly. 'She probably just wanted to see if she could pick up something juicy. You are after all with the devil. Or a Mudblood. Nobody cares about the difference.' He raised his glass. 'Cheers, mate. Let's just forget about... that. Had enough of it for the day. And I do appreciate your sentiment. Friendly faces are rare here, seen from my side of things.'
The ale was cold and good and golden, and Kingsley drank a considerable part of it. He put his glass down, then went on replying to Harry's question. 'I don't know why the Association must go through this,' Kingsley said, 'I know it, they know it--that they cannot continue with their separation tactics. It's an international event, and England will be the laughing matter if the Ministry insists. It'll probably take a few weeks, yes.' Curious about news from the League, Kingsley changed subject. 'How are things with Puddlemere? Any new, interesting talents I could steal from you?'
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