Stifling a yawn, Harry slouched down into his usual seat at Ursula's Fish and Chips. The noise all around him vibrated painfully in his sore head, and he cursed himself for the fifth time that morning for staying up so late the previous night.
"Hey, Harry," Uma greeted him. "Why're you so grumpy, aside from the usual?"
"Late night," Harry grunted. "Combined with all the noise."
"Did you have any coffee? That should wake you up."
Harry blinked. "What?"
Uma sighed. "You don't know what coffee is?"
She left and returned a few minutes later with a cup, which she handed to Harry. Harry looked into it.
"It looks like that stuff I shoved Sammy into the other day," he noted. He leaned over to sniff the brown liquid. "Smells funny. What is it?"
"Doesn't matter," Uma replied. "You know our motto- 'You'll Take It How I Make It'. Drink up."
Harry took an apprehensive sip. A moment later, his eyes widened to the size of golf balls and he began to choke.
"What is this sludge?" he gasped, spraying the dark liquid across the filthy tabletop. Uma sighed.
"I told you. It's coffee."
"It's bitterer than my soul," Harry coughed. Uma whacked him on the back to dislodge the last of the ill-fated drink.
"At least it woke you up," she pointed out. "Now, how about some breakfast?"