Mundungus smirked, amused. “I believe ya. Not much of a gin bloke meself.” After giving a quick glance to the bartender to make sure they were out of hear-range, he looked at Edgar. “But back at ya a moment—used to the Bludger’s gin. Are people paying ya more drinks to sweeten the bartender, or did ya learn to take advantage of the full employee discount?”
“No,” Edgar laughed. “You’re still the only one who enjoys drinking with your bartender, I guess. That being said...” Edgar raised an eyebrow and waved for the bartender to come over. Dropping a few sickles on the counter, he gestured at the bottles before him. “Drink up, barkeep. It’s on me. We have to stick together.” Edgar turned back to Mundungus with a satisfied grin. “That does feel good.”
“Wow? Thank you? I suppose? It’s nice to know you are talking to me only because there isn’t anyone else to talk to.” Carolyn said in a slightly puzzled tone of voice, but managed to look serious just for a few moments before a chuckle escaped her lips.
“Oh, no, no,” Edgar stammered. “That’s not what I meant at all.” But Carolyn began to laugh, Edgar’s confusion broke into a smile. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”
Edgar coughed after taking a hit. It had been a little longer than he had thought. “Probably,” Edgar struggled to joke through his coughs. “This is good shit.”
“I’d agree with that. I understand wanting to keep some information confidential, for public safety, but I think Minchum and his whole staff’s been a little too tight-lipped about things recently.” Sturgis shrugged. “He seems more interested in the dementors at Azkaban that his people.”
“Probably. I mean, I do.”
Edgar sighed. “I wish I had more faith in the Ministry, but here we are.”
“But, I mean...they have to leave at some point. Some people just have so much free time.”
“I do?” Mundungus had only to think a moment about it to find that it was indeed true. There was always something to sell, or try to anyway. “Thanks,” he said, chuckling amused by it all. “I guess it’s the upside of having being called ‘Dung’—there is only so much shit I’ll take.” He took a sip of gin too, grimacing a little, but out of not being a fan of the drink itself, and when he saw a similar expression on Edgar’s face, he laughed. “Your face, mate.. are ya okay? Ya look like ya drank a lemon.”
Edgar laughed, quickly setting his glass down. “That’s some rough gin, mate,” he said, keeping his voice low so the bartender wouldn’t here. “I’ve gotten used to the Bludger’s gin I guess.”
The familiar tune of “scotch and soda, please,” was still ringing in Edgar’s ears as he arrived at his flat. Edgar enjoyed watching each customer convey their order with such dignity and pride. As if they were the first person ever to order an alcoholic beverage. In an attempt to drown out these deafening sounds from the bar, he switched on the radio, pretending to be ignorant to what Malcolm Jordan and the rest of the WWN crew might be discussing tonight.
“And now, as we enter the seventy-third hour of the Ministry protests, we will be sure to keep you updated with any future developments. So far, no word on whether the Ministry employees will be returning to work tomorrow or not, as the crowd of protesters seems to be only growing in size. But for now, I’m Malcolm Jordan and please stay--”
Edgar switched it off, sighing as he fell into his living room armchair. It had been days since he had spoken to Henry and he wondered how he was spending his time off from the Ministry. Henry wasn’t one for booking flashy vacation spots or indulging in his favorite hobby. Hell, it had only been a couple of days. Knowing Henry, he was most likely cooped up at home, just itching for the chance to get back to work. But would he get that chance?
Of course, the protesters had to go home eventually. There were jobs to be fulfilled and children to take care of. But it wouldn’t be the last of people like Derrick Wilkes. It most certainly wouldn’t be the last mistake the Ministry of Magic ever made. And sadly, there was only so much that protests could solve. Eventually it would come down to a fight. And what side would the Ministry be on? As obvious as the answer might seem to most people, it was up in the air for Edgar.
“Fuck,” Edgar mumbled harshly to himself, leaping onto both feet. He didn’t like the fact that he knew too much. As his brother fumbled about the Ministry signing documents and Amelia continued to traipse through her own life doing God knows what, Edgar was left to sit and reflect on his knowledge. The knowledge of looming war and inevitable suffering.
Edgar began to pace back and forth between his bed and living room, as if he was constantly leaving a piece of himself in each room as he left them. He needed a distraction from his thoughts, but what? There was only so many hours in a day and the Golden Bludger couldn’t stay open forever. Eventually, he would have to retire to his own home, his own bed, his own mind. And now, here he was. A prisoner of his own mind.
Mundungus chuckled. “Oh, ya don’t know what I do, do ya?” It was funny to him because those that remembered rarely asked him how work was going. “It’s going good. And I’m more or less an errand-runner with a dash of factotum. Sweep the floors, dust the shelves, whatever is needed around the shop,” he said, the last words said with a ‘pop’ sound at the end. He gave a nod of thanks to the bartender when they filled a couple of glasses of gin for Edgar and him. “And then I just do side-jobs… y’know.. whatever comes me way. Oh, are ya interested in silver jewelry by any chance? Because I can get ya a good price on that.”
“That’s probably the main reason I was unsure of your current career choice. You seem to be always wanting to sell me something, whether it’s silver jewelry or cleaning supplies to get blood off the floors,” Edgar laughed, reaching for his glass of gin. “You’re perfect for that line of work, mate. You don’t take shit.” He took of sip of his gin, wincing a bit because it wasn’t as smooth as the gin at the Golden Bludger.
Sturgis nodded in agreement. "Yeah, the coverage has been something. Marlene’s explicative was a nice touch. I’m sure the WWN appreciated that.”
“It was enough to shut the whole Ministry down, that’s for sure,” Edgar laughed. “Hell, I haven’t even gotten around to asking my brother, Henry, about all this. I assume they expect all of this to die down once Wilkes is safely transported to Azkaban, but that’s unlikely.”
Carolyn grimaced slightly and nodded, agreeing with Edgar’s comment. “Unfortunately it looks like you might be right. We will see, I suppose.” She sighed. “Well, true. However, you can say whatever you want about our relative concept of normalcy, but I already miss it.” She shook slowly her head and curved her lips into a smile. “I’m ruining your night off. Perhaps I should let you go.”
“Me? No,” Edgar said, “Any time I’m away from the bar is good night off. Plus, without you, who else would I talk to?” Edgar gestured around the Kinky Kestral, where the night seemed to be dying down. “Unless you need to leave, of course.”
