The Quidditch World Cup in Britain has been marred by a Death Eater attack. Edwin, Slytherin alumni, mid forties, is an obliviator, Lawrence, Gryffindor alumni, early thirties, is an auror, finding his purist views are in agreement with Voldemort's periphery followers, and Mortimer, Slytherin alumni, in his early/mid sixties, with children at Hogwarts.

"But that's the thing, people believe he's back, or he's on the way. They speak like he's just popped out for lunch." Lawrence leaned forward, the leather of the sofa creaking beneath him. His beer held between thumb and forefinger, he gestured with a shrug.
"That's claptrap." Edwin protested from beside him, shaking his head.
"You really think?!"
"We would have told us if there was a hint." He was ever so sure, as an obliviator he learned all sorts of things on the quiet, as he had to protect them.

Across the room in his favourite armchair, Mortimer laughed, and tapped out a cigar onto the ashtray on the arm. The smoke curled up into the air above him in a spiral.
"Fudge doesn't know half of what he claims to know." Lawrence gestured with both hands towards Mortimer and looked to Edwin as if to say 'see?'
"Dumbledore's not the font of all knowledge either though, to be fair, is he?" Edwin protested.

"Well I've heard things." Lawrence persisted, rather more animated than his companions.
"We've all heard things Lawrence, but it doesn't mean they're true." Mortimer assured him firmly, and inhaled on his cigar, eyes near closing as he enjoyed it.

"People believe what they want to believe. Whatever's convenient, whatever makes them feel safe." Lawrence's face burst into a grin:
"Which is why we get Glass to obliviate them when they find out the truth." He looked to his friend for confirmation. Edwin shrugged, and recrossed his legs from the other end of the couch. Obliviation was rather run of the mill these days.
"True." He admitted quietly, "Merlin you two know how to bring the mood down."

Lawrence laughed and finished his beer, slopping it against the bottle as he did. He looked to Mortimer, who waved a hand in the general direction of the kitchen. Musgrave upped and trawled into the next room, briefly consulting the other two.
"Sometimes," Edwin remarked quietly to Mortimer, once Lawrence could be heard clanking bottles in the other room, "I wonder if the hat put him in the wrong house."