Gilderoy hasn't been here recently. Perhaps he forgot Milliways existed. Perhaps he remembered and couldn't find his way. Perhaps time doesn't pass for him, and absences don't matter.

He wears a purple dressing gown a most dashing lavender cravat, and, of course, his winning smile. The lovely Bar has provided him with many strips of parchment, and he's writing his named in joined up letters on each one. His peacock quill dips and swirls as he goes.

"Oh, hello, hello," he says to the man sitting next to him. Maybe he'd like an autograph! Gilderoy will certainly ask.