Time for a drink+

Hunter, headed down into the dimly lit streets of knockturn alley, technically he was here on Ministry business but in his own time, he walked down the cobbled street his feet hitting the floor with a soft thuds, he wore muggle clothing but a travel cloak wrapped around him, it was a sweeping dark midnight blue that contrasted with his blonde hair and vivid green eyes he glanced around wary nothing that was abnormal, he would hear all gossip from the pub, if there was any, so he made his way towards the small place, opening the door, there were grumbbles and coughs, and dealings of magic, yet again that was normal. he ordered a butterbeer, the only wizarding drink beside pumbkin juice he had ever tried.

Walking in Harriate sat at the bar and ordered a fire whisky. She had grown to like the burning liquid. looking around she saw the man in muggle clothing and raised an eyebrow.
That was asking to be attacked in knockturn.

Hunter once orded moved to sit, on a small table to the corner of the room, he was fully aware of his muggle attire, he rarely visited knockturn as it was, he drew his cloak around him as a form of shielding, he wouldn't change who he was for anyone, he was who he was no matter what others thought, he sipped his butter beer, and pulled the Daily Prohet towards him that had been discaded and left on the table.

Harriate kept glancing at the strange man as she sipped on her fire whisky. Obiously he was no Dark lord supporter or he wouldn't be wearing muggle clothes here. Maybe a ministry member? or just a normal wizard. She watched trying to work him out.

Hunter sat silently thought ful as he flipped through the various pages of the prophet unphased, he knew he was being watched an added bonus of being part Wiccan, he sipped his butter beer and read one page that caught his intrest on the uprise of deaths and the topic of Sirius Black.

after reading and browsing he was aware of the same..person as such watching him, he looked up without thought ans searched the pub his gaze landed of a girl across the other side of the pub, he raised an eyebrow questioningly under her seeminigly never falutering gaze.

he watched for a moment waiting a flash of regonition shon in the girls eye, he averted his gaze and went back to aimlessly flipping through the daily prophet, and sipping his butterbeer, to which he had almost finished.