Harry drank greedily, too, giving out a satisfied ahhh as the liquid flowed down his throat. It allowed him to look around the quaint little pub. It was wonderfully cosy. Low ceilinged and softly lit, there were snug corners and rickety tables, character and history seeping out of the very walls themselves. The horseshoe-shaped bar was shiny from overuse, and there was a beautiful smell of warm food wafting from somewhere deep in the building. Harry swam in it, feeling warm and content, and wondering just how the owners of the dogs, in a painting that hung behind the bar, had managed to teach them to play snooker.