It was a slow, late Saturday afternoon at the Hog's Head, but Olivier did not like the slow days. Rather than sit around doing nothing, he went through the glasses to make sure they were all clean and organized; he triple checked the stocks at hand underneath and behind the counter, but his last sweep had been satisfactory; he even considered cleaning the floors and walls, albeit with a bit of magic work.
Then a new customer came in, much to his great relief, and he immediately went over to where they sat at the bar and asked, "How can I help you?"
Nightmares had danced on the screen of his mind like the shadows of trees against the wall of his room, cast by the amber street light at the end of the block. Three hours. Four. Time disintegrated, or rather he disintegrated. In the dark, there is no you, there is only your mind. He gave up on sleep. He could sleep on the train.
Ther was a dragon report in the north. An albino, cloud dancer, thunder snake, ice tongue. It went by different names. There were a few wizarding villages north of Hogwarts across mountain passes. And the overgrown lizard had apparently spawned from a rare nesting. But now with three dueling for territory, the spillover from their clashes was affecting the scattered populations. Let alone the risk if one found a nesting place in proximity to the Hogwarts grounds. He slept on the train and turned up his collar of the leather jacket against the mist as he slunk to the Hog's Head. He had always like the coarseness of the pub. It had a charm like unpolished wood, a simplicity that resonated within. Another reason he preferred Romania to London.
He settled in on a worn stool, running his hand idly along the counter as his thoughts drifted to estimations of how large of a team he would need to bring in to catch and release the dragon. "How can I help you?"
"How about..." Andrew glanced around for inspiration. He was never well-versed in drinks, being a purist by practicality. "A butterbeer to start."