This feeling was something tantamount to awkwardness, and he supposed that was probably precisely what it was. For both young chaps (mainly Bragi) had bumped into some misunderstandings and hesitances. But Mr MacFusty was right… despite their youth, they were both adults, capable of paying their way. One was a professional Quidditch player, and the other a Landlord. They weren’t boys.

And so Bragi (still feeling very much like a boy) felt determined to return to some social graces, and answered with confidence; ”it’s not a problem at all. I find your profession fascinating. In fact the very first person I met in this country was a Quidditch player — Mr Tristan Michaud, have you heard of him?”

“Distraction” was probably the word of the day. For even though both were already acquainted with Number Four Orpington Way, the purpose of this afternoon was to formally hand over the keys, not to chinwag. That wasn’t stopping them, though.