milliways_bar | (no subject)

The door opens, and the chatter on the other side of the door is almost similar to the chatter within the bar itself. (He'd been in the Great Hall.)

A young boy of sixteen lingers by the woodwork, staring with wide eyes. They're familiar eyes, for those who knew his father (and, as Albus knows very well, there is hardly a wizard or witch who hasn't heard of his father) - or better yet, his grandmother - and the jet-black, slightly messy hair is a another characteristic that bears a striking resemblance to the Boy Who Lived.

But on closer inspection, one can spot the differences. This young boy does not wear glasses. And he does not have the same air of confidence the Potters tend to have. (No Potter, for example, would hesitate by the doorside, contemplating slipping back out as if he'd never stepped in at all.)

Whether one recognizes the boy or not, the unmistakable 'I've never been here before, what is this place?' look is a familiar one for any regular patron of the bar.

[ooc: I meant to do this weeks ago, but did not get a chance. :( I really wanted to stick him in though, so here goes! This can totally be used for car keys, by the way! Should make it easier for some to tag. ;)

It is also subject to slowtime.

tiny!tag: albus potter]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Not too often," McGonagall admits. "I'm told that the gateway appears much more often for some others. And yes, it appears to be almost entirely arbitrary, unfortunately - though again, not entirely so for others."

"What makes it different? There isn't ... a way to make it go one way or another, is there?"

"Not that I am aware of, no. The general opinion is that the bar comes and goes as it pleases - though apparently it has a knack for appearing at both the worst and best possible moments."

Albus nods, quietly taking this in.

A moment later, the drinks arrive.

Albus takes his butterbeer with a murmured, "Oh. Um. Thank you."

Ah, that's better.

"You're welcome, young man."

She takes her own drink from the rat with a nod of thanks, then pauses.

"Well. Cheers, I suppose."

She is not sure if the usual protocol applies when taking with the future son of a current pupil.

"Cheers," he returns quietly, before lifting his mug to take a sip.

"It tastes just like it does at home."

He's quite impressed.