Benjamin Woodcroft. This may not have been a vital question to either of them, but Barnaby looked very serious for a moment, staring into space, then closed his eyes and murmured thoughtfully to himself: “soft, oft, scoffed...”
He had not been given enough time before they were talking to him again, so he settled the rapier back to rest in his chest and opened one eye to look hopefully at Greengrass, leaving off the composing until later. “Then perchance we should... burn that down too?” he suggested. (Or instead, he supposed, but ideally too.) “If it is full of fiendish ruffians and ne’er-do-wells,” - and Barnaby suspected it was, not just because the working class were populated with thugs and thieves or because he did not trust pubs but because he’d floated past that grotty place often enough himself to judge it - “we might stamp a few out in the fire, too, and leave this fine constable,” (this in a sarcastic drawl, obviously), “a man of leisure.”
He seemed like he needed to lighten up; Greengrass didn’t want to drink there; Barnaby wanted the world, or at least Hogsmeade, depleted of its dishonest drinking grounds. Frankly, this seemed a perfect solution for them all. He was a genius. He ought to be Minister of Magic.
He had not been given enough time before they were talking to him again, so he settled the rapier back to rest in his chest and opened one eye to look hopefully at Greengrass, leaving off the composing until later. “Then perchance we should... burn that down too?” he suggested. (Or instead, he supposed, but ideally too.) “If it is full of fiendish ruffians and ne’er-do-wells,” - and Barnaby suspected it was, not just because the working class were populated with thugs and thieves or because he did not trust pubs but because he’d floated past that grotty place often enough himself to judge it - “we might stamp a few out in the fire, too, and leave this fine constable,” (this in a sarcastic drawl, obviously), “a man of leisure.”
He seemed like he needed to lighten up; Greengrass didn’t want to drink there; Barnaby wanted the world, or at least Hogsmeade, depleted of its dishonest drinking grounds. Frankly, this seemed a perfect solution for them all. He was a genius. He ought to be Minister of Magic.
