Order Only: Not a hitch

[alt_sirius]

Kingsley and I made it inside and found young Michelle. It took a little talking to the parents, but Kingsley has her safe and sound and is on his way to Moddey Dhoo with her as we speak.

I've stayed behind in the nearby pub to see if I can learn any good gossip from the workers.

Frank? Arthur? How did yours go?

Comments

[alt_sirius]

Good!

I had supper at the pub. Heard that I'm still alive, which is good to know. I wasn't aware that I could pass through walls, however, before now. I don't think I'll try it just yet - not on a barman's assurance, anyway.

Let's see. People were talking a bit about transfigured foods and the difficulty getting fresh ingredients, still. I suppose that's a perennial conversation topic. But this time there was a good deal of discussion of some new transfiguring methods, using fats and all the bits of things no one normally uses to make into delectable treats. Sounds a bit like muggle fast food industries, if you ask me - burgers and chicken nuggets and things like that, sweetened and salted so you can't tell they're absolutely awful.

Then one bloke says to his companion that his wife has gained so much weight on the stuff that she's thinking of going to one of the reducing spas. (I shan't repeat what he said about her outgrowing her robes.) His mate tells him the spas are all fake, but no, this chap says, he knows two or three women in the office who've gone. They all come out mysteriously self-controlled, apparently. No cravings or anything - and if they do fall off their diets, another treatment gets them right back on track.

Didn't Malfoy say something recently about the job his old clerk went to do? Regulation of Commercial Enterprise? I'm sure there was something in there about just these sorts of businesses, but I can't recall what. I mean, other than obviously, the transfigured foods are making everyone gain weight and these new places are designed to help people lose it again. Funny. I always thought exercise was the best way.

Well, anyway. Back to the gossip. Oh, there was one other thing I thought was rather funny: People were trying not to laugh at Crouch's foul-up yesterday morning, but all promising to watch their letters very carefully when addressing private messages. And Bill, you'll be happy to note that there's a very healthy sense of resentment that Ministry can read any of the private messages whenever they like.

Then there was the really interesting part. I'd been there for a couple of hours when a young woman came in, went up to the bar, and showed the barman something on her wrist as she ordered her drink. Very subtle she was at it, too, I don't think I'd have seen her myself if I hadn't leaned out from my corner to signal another round just at that second. Anyway, the barman served her, then handed her a key with her change, and quick as you like, she went down the corridor to the ladies' ... and never came back. I sat nursing my pint for a good hour. Never saw her return. The bartender cleared her drink away, too, more than half full, and long before that hour was up. Not sure whether it's ours or theirs, though given the way the talk ran in that place, I'm betting they've got some kind of smuggling operation going. People or goods? Maybe both.

[alt_bill]

Thanks, Sirius. Interesting. I'll pass this along to my analysts. Where was the pub, exactly?

There was a memo passed around the office this morning regarding some letters that have been sent into the Daily Prophet--and then quashed by the editor rather than being published--complaining about the Ministry's apparent willingness to snoop into the so-called 'private messages.' Your pubmates obviously aren't the only ones upset about this.

(Of course, all the letters sent in were either anonymous or had obvious false names. People complain, but aren't yet brave enough to do so openly. Which is a good thing, because they probably would attracted some uncomfortable official attention had they been foolish enough to use their true names.)