A large, slightly balding red-haired man came sauntering into the sorting room. He glanced around, frowning, an expression that seemed oddly unusual on his face, and then turned to address some conveniently nearby house elves. "All right, gents, I was told you wanted a bartender. How the hell am I supposed to tend a bar if there's no booze
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What'd somebody ask for in 1967?
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In fact...*takes a sip* Oh yeah. Good stuff. You'll be a credit to Ravenclaw.
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"You've brought the cold ones right into the Sorting Room! Man, give me one of those and I'll vote you anywheres you want. Gryfflypuff? Ballzador? It's all good."
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"I need a clown drink! Or a puppy-drink. And a burr-i-to." He gazed up at Callahan with his tiny pink tongue sticking out one side of his mouth. "I'm a mongoose!"
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