The Three Broomsticks was near to closing for the night, and Ester had – until a short time ago – been having a delightful time.
Her usual haunts were all in London; she was notorious enough at the Hog’s Head; but Ester was a far less recognisable patron at the Three Broomsticks, at least in this era. She had half-hoped some of the elder Hogwarts students might be spending their holidays drinking Butterbeer here – she would have liked a glimpse of one in particular – but she had soon been waylaid from that aim, and instead occupied herself in general carousing and a generous few rounds of drinking.
But now tempers were a little loose, and things a little heated, and the pub was supposed to be closing, except for the matter of payment, which simply could not be settled. (Ester knew it had been an error to have quite so many rounds put upon her name.) And now the constable had been called.
“I shall explain the situation,” Ester said, stepping in and sliding off her chair to approach the constable before the manager of the inn could get any angrier at her. “We have all been having a lovely evening at this gentleman’s bar, but as I went to pay my final dues and beg my leave –” she widened her eyes in expert innocence, “– I discovered my purse to be missing.”
Only the most drunken gullible lads in the bar had believed this story an ounce, and Ester was not certain whether the very-sober constable would be taken in for a heartbeat – but the fact remained that, even if she had brought a purse along, the one from her bedroom drawer left for safe-keeping, it would have been stocked with a bottle of laudanum drops but entirely empty of coin.
But it was not her fault all the dregs of mankind left here tonight were the miserly kind, and refused to pay her tab for her.
Her usual haunts were all in London; she was notorious enough at the Hog’s Head; but Ester was a far less recognisable patron at the Three Broomsticks, at least in this era. She had half-hoped some of the elder Hogwarts students might be spending their holidays drinking Butterbeer here – she would have liked a glimpse of one in particular – but she had soon been waylaid from that aim, and instead occupied herself in general carousing and a generous few rounds of drinking.
But now tempers were a little loose, and things a little heated, and the pub was supposed to be closing, except for the matter of payment, which simply could not be settled. (Ester knew it had been an error to have quite so many rounds put upon her name.) And now the constable had been called.
“I shall explain the situation,” Ester said, stepping in and sliding off her chair to approach the constable before the manager of the inn could get any angrier at her. “We have all been having a lovely evening at this gentleman’s bar, but as I went to pay my final dues and beg my leave –” she widened her eyes in expert innocence, “– I discovered my purse to be missing.”
Only the most drunken gullible lads in the bar had believed this story an ounce, and Ester was not certain whether the very-sober constable would be taken in for a heartbeat – but the fact remained that, even if she had brought a purse along, the one from her bedroom drawer left for safe-keeping, it would have been stocked with a bottle of laudanum drops but entirely empty of coin.
But it was not her fault all the dregs of mankind left here tonight were the miserly kind, and refused to pay her tab for her.
![[Image: uWJZ5yA.png]](https://i.imgur.com/uWJZ5yA.png)