The Pink Flamingo

Harry stepped outside Gringotts into a brilliant summer evening. Whether by magic or some other circumstance, Diagon Alley always caught the best of the setting sunlight. Ron joined him on the bank's marble stairs.

"Nice," said Harry, referring to nothing in particular.

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

"So… drinks?"

Ron nodded, but then his grin faltered. "Leaky Cauldron will be packed, though."

"It's not the only bar in London," Harry said, clapping Ron on the back. "Come on."

They strolled down the street towards old Tom's establishment and passed through the raucous, intoxicated crowd inside, helping themselves with a few covert Banishing Charms. The patrons didn't seem to notice being pushed to the sides by more than the constantly moving throng of people.

A pair of smart transfigurations ("You do it, mate, I'm pants at this finicky stuff," Ron grumbled) likened their robes to mugglewear before they left the Leaky Cauldron behind. London was bustling with activity. A few minutes of searching later, Harry pushed open the door of the first bar he saw that looked to be the right blend of the Hog's Head and the Three Broomsticks. Most of the tables were occupied, but they found two empty seats at the bar itself.

"What can I getcha?" asked the bartender, a giant who seemed to consist entirely of square shapes. Even his hair was trimmed into angles, which made his head look like a cube. Ron eyeballed the man suspiciously and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it with a click of teeth.

"Let's start with beer," said Harry, slapping a muggle banknote down in front of him. The bartender produced two bottles from under the bar top and popped the caps with his fingernails.

Ron grabbed his beer with some hesitation. "He looks like he got hit with Engorgio," he said once the bartender was out of earshot.

"Drink," Harry said. "A few of these and you won't care."

Enough rounds later that measuring time in rounds started to make more sense than doing so in hours, Ron decided that alcohol wasn't helping with his discomfort.

"Let's just find another place."

Harry thought it wasn't a bad idea. He glanced at his watch - ah, those tiny numbers didn't help at all.

Fortunately, they found their next destination before the cool evening sobered them up. The Pink Flamingo advertised itself with an eye-searing neon sign above the door. Ron peeked inside. eyes going wide.

"Harry… look at this!"

Harry looked. The dark interior was lit up with flashing lights in striking colours and the pounding beat of the music stirred something deep inside him. They didn't make it to the bar before someone spun around them and blocked their way. The man seemed to be about their age - it was hard to tell - and exceptionally groomed and exceptionally sweaty.

"Hello, boys!" he greeted in a low bass even deeper than the music blasting from the speakers. "Are you looking for company?"

Ron ignored the question. "What is that?" he asked instead, pointing at the blue-pink drink.

The man swept damp hair from his forehead and winked at Ron. "Come along, you can get one yourself."

"Thish place is faaaan-tashtic!" slurred Ron sometime later. Harry nodded in agreement, bobbing his head to the music. He wasn't a good dancer and normally not one for partying, but the blue-pink nectar lowered all inhibitions. Ron seemed to have micro flashes of sobriety whenever someone moved in towards his face, but he just pushed them away and kept moving, sloshing his drink all over himself.

Harry had heard of gay bars before. Ron hadn't. It was probably best to keep it that way, but silly concerns like that gradually gave way to the pleasant buzz between Harry's ears and some unpleasant fluctuations in his stomach. He half-stumbled, half-danced his way to the bathroom as the conga line passed by it. Shielded from view in one of the stalls, he whipped out his wand and tapped it on the front of his robes - the Bowel Soothing Charm was one of Hermione's most brilliant innovations, Harry thought. It all but replaced Snape's Bowel Settling Draught. Served the dead bastard right.

"Har-rry!" The nice man from before almost tackled him to the floor.

Harry frowned. "How you done?" he asked, taking care to enunciate clearly. He glanced at the empty glass in his hand. Had it been tainted with Babbling Solution? Snape, that bastard!

"What'd he do?" asked Ron, sliding into the hallway leading to the bathrooms.

Harry felt his eyebrows ride up into his sweaty fringe. "Who?"

Ron made an evocative gesture with his hands, gazing at him intensely. When that didn't help, he uttered, "Shnape!"

"Oh." Harry looked up at the ceiling, then down at Blue-pink Drink Man clinging to his chest. "I think... Shnape is dead, mate."

Ron shrugged and turned around, marching with purpose towards the bar. Harry poked the gently whimpering Sweaty Hair Man. "You okay?"

Deep-voiced Man pulled himself up to standing more-or-less straight and wiped his face - which didn't amount to much, because his shirt was as damp as the rest of him. He nodded, but his pained expression cast doubt on that silent statement. Harry put a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey sympathy.

"You don't sheem oh-kay," he said.

Damp Hawaiian Shirt Man nod- shook- nodded- shook his head and let out a blood-curdling wail. Behind him, Ron, precariously balancing three blue-pink drinks in two hands, jumped up, startled. Most of the alcohol splashed on the already wet tiled floor.

"Harry Harry Harry!" Ron yelled over the music. "Get your wand out! Banshee!" Potential danger made his speech much more coherent.

"Nah, no worries," Harry said. "Just our friend here-"

"He broke up with meeeeeee!" their friend shrieked. This time, Ron dropped the empty glasses and fumbled for his wand.

"Are you sure?" Ron demanded, eyes wild. Harry nodded once, twice, thrice and a few more times.

"I'm sure. Now put it away b'fore someone sees."

"HARRY!"

Ron looked increasingly sober and panicked. He spun in a circle, wand outstretched. Harry sighed, rubbing his face.

"Harry, I'm telling you, there's a banshee here somewhere!"

"No, that was Hermione."

Ron blinked rapidly several times. "What?"

"You better go, mate," said to Recently Single Man, who wiped his face again and disappeared into the surging crowd on the dance floor.

Hermione pushed through that same crowd, stalking towards them in a deliberate fast-walk that dared them to ask what was wrong so she could do something scary with her wand.

Harry barely had time to take a step back before she grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

He smiled, albeit nervously. Cold sweat poured down his face. Thank Merlin he had already been sweating.

"You got here on your damned boat, yes?" she asked four inches from his nose.

Ron objected to such disrespectful misclassification. "It's a ship-"

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, without even looking at him. Ron immediately looked down.

"Okay."

"So…" Harry squinted, trying to zero in on the tip of her nose as Hermione shortened the distance even further. "Your boat. You sailed it here from Africa?"

Harry nodded.

"You left it at the dock in the Smuggler's Corner, yes?"

Harry nodded again.

"Did you know that you're required to be present on deck during an inspection?"

Harry nodded for the third time. Then he realised something.

"Hold on - what inshpecshon?"

Hermione released him and threw up her hands. "Percy wanted to make sure you haven't brought it any contraband-"

"Pershy the party-pooper," Ron mumbled.

"-and he found a live nundu in the cargo hold!"

Harry dug into his pocket for two vials of Wit-Sharpening Potion. It wasn't the Sobriety Solution, but it would do in short-term. He handed one to Ron and drank the other one himself. Hermione was impatiently tapping her foot.

"Why did you have a live nundu on board?"

Harry corrected his slipping glasses. "We're taking it to Hogwarts. We've got papers and everything."

"Hogwarts," Hermione repeated deadpan.

"Mhm."

"For Hagrid's class?"

"Uh-huh."

Hermione's nose was back at four-inch distance. "Have you lost your mind?" she hissed.

"Hey hey!" Harry put up his hands in defence. "Hey! We drugged it."

"Draught of Living Death," Ron said.

"Enough to knock out- two nundus!"

"It was sleeping," Ron added.

"The whole way."

"Well, it's not sleeping anymore," Hermione said. "Percy woke it up by accident - because you weren't present for the inspection."

A horrifying image of a nundu rampaging through muggle London flashed before Harry's eyes, but was quickly replaced with something he thought was just as relevant. "But we didn't know about any inspection," he said.

"Oh, stop pouting," Hermione snapped.

"I'm not pouting," Harry said with a pout.

Hermione closed her eyes and seemed to be praying, judging by her quickly moving lips. Harry wasn't sure - her balled-up fists cast doubt on that assumption.

"Percy's never liked us," Ron grumbled. "Or our ship."

"True," Harry agreed. "I think he's jealous."

Hermione's eyes opened and for a moment her look was almost as piercing as Dumbledore's. "That - is - not - important. There is a wild nundu in London. I don't care who's fault it is - you're going to help catch it."

Harry glanced at Ron and they both shrugged.

"So what's one nundu?"