Quote from Hávamál

Tried to leave it open for anyone to jump in whatever way they want (:
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It had been a long month, disastrous, sorrowful--and then, as if it couldn't get any worse, Torquil was another year older, and elderly: a travesty. So he decided to cheer himself up a bit. Ignan, wandering and lost, settled down as a professor at Hogwarts, and Torquil decided that he'd prefer to catch up with the once wandering German. Then he invited a few other friends and drinking companions.

The Irishman, of course, did his best to downplay the whole birthday part, and make it more of a pleasant get-together, (Merlin knew they needed it,) but he was sure Charisma would find a way to incorporate it into the evening somehow.

Torquil was rather casual when he arrived at the roomy and cozy Three Broomsticks. He wore a nice sweater and some comfortable pants, and he herded around a table with his companions. Since he was focused more on enjoying himself and his company, he didn't take immediate notice yet if everyone was there yet or if there were an extra person or not. His uncontainable glee sometimes skewed his observational skills that way.

The Irishman knocked his large hands against the table, "It's been a long year, and it hasn't even bloody started yet," then he slapped his hands together and rubbed them excitedly, "Time to relax with drinks and friends, yeah?"

"Hmm... what do we start with?" Torquil's eyebrows raised as he peered around the table, waiting for someone to pipe up with a suggestion.

“That completely depends on what your old and failing body can handle, Foley.” The Welsh witch muttered quietly from behind her friend, the birthday...man before she shrugged her long crimson robes off and leaned down, planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Penblwydd Hapus[1], Happy birthday, old man. Ryan sends his best wishes, he’s been dragged off to Norway to help capture and put down a badly maimed Norwegian Ridgeback.” It seemed her husband always found an excuse to get out of most social gatherings of this sort.

In front of the ever so slightly older wizard Charisma dropped a parcel wrapped in brown paper, string and topped with a big red innocent looking bow she had enchanted to start singing happy birthday very loudly and explode shooting ribbon into his face as soon as he touched the parcel. Inside the paper the witch had placed an extendable walking stick which turned into a jellylike substance when one tried to rest their weight on it, a bottle of 1947 firewhiskey and a miniature spy glass.

Without waiting for her friend to open the parcel, Charisma flashed a smile to the rest of the group before she helped herself to an empty chair at the table, tossed her robes over the back and dropped into it. She was going to force herself to relax this evening and no longer dwell on the events of the preceeding week. Or she was going to try. Ryan had told her to wait to see if anything happened. He said she’d more than made her presence known to Tamis Raynor and she would soon realise her mistake. Charisma didn’t like this idea but she agreed it had to be given at least some time. She’d been tempted to speak to the prophet about the withholding of facts from a victim’s family . She could have asked Torquil to write something. But what would that have truly accomplished?

She could ignore reality for one night.

1.	'Happy Birthday' in Welsh

"Other than drinking, rampaging, pillaging…" Ignan opened his mouth to say but the arrival of another of Foley's friends took the attention away. Instead he looked with raised eyebrows from Georg who he had brought with him for better introduction to Torquil, to the arrival.

Instead it appeared they were beginning with vintage firewhiskey, an extendable walking stick and a miniature spy glass. All admirable choices, Ignan would have given the firewhiskey a good home with Georg had it not gone down well with Torquil.

"Here's to the beginning of a good birthday." Ignan raised his glass. "Let's begin with the drinking, and let the competition continue from there…" What he meant was the steady attempt to drink each other under the table, and win at any game that was presented, which could vary, they were wizards.

"Aldridge, a drink?" Although Ignan and Charisma hadn't quite been introduced, Foley had mentioned her arrival was expected, and Ignan recalled the name. He'd buy one for her to be polite, and one for Torquil, so between them they ensured he never had a moment dry…

Vlad didn't know Foley well, but Gabie was right; he didn't get out enough. The only people besides his daughter that Vlad regularly socialized with  Ignan and Georg. Since Ignan was family and Georg was almost family, Vlad was forced to admit that made him rather pathetic. Nothing against either of his fellow Durmstrangs of course, but Vlad supposed he really ought to make some friends outside of work, who weren't related to him...

 "It's been a long year, and it hasn't even bloody started yet."

Don't remind me, thought Vlad. He was already feeling tired just from his own small part in the events of this current year.

"Time to relax with drinks and friends, yeah? Hmm... what do we start with?" Torquil's eyebrows raised as if to question everyone sitting around the table.
 
“That completely depends on what your old and failing body can handle, Foley.”

Vlad snorted to suppress a laugh, as the handsome Welsh lady planted a kiss on the guest of honor's cheek. Was she really old enough to be at the same table with all us geezers? he wondered. She certainly didn't look it. Foley, you lucky old dog...

"Here's to the beginning of a good birthday," said Ignan, raising his glass.

"Hear, hear!" Vlad responded, raising his own.

"Let's begin with the drinking, and let the competition continue from there…"

"Please," commented Vlad, "if it's to be Wizard Poker again, let's not make it the strip variety. I would rather that the general public was spared the spectacle of my old and failing body."  He smiled ruefully. "Unlike the last time..."

"Aldridge, a drink?"

Vlad smiled faintly, and held out a goblet to Foley.  "A small token of my esteem."

When the goblet was filled, tiny figures would climb out. And then they would sing and dance...

http://sendables.jibjab.com/ecards/sendables/202100/grim_reaper_sing_song/birthdays

"Blast," he exclaimed as Charisma planted a kiss on his cheek, "You have half a year on me, and I'm failing?" he straightened himself as best he could with his short height, "I'm at my prime."

Then she planted a present in front of him and his attention became completely engulfed with the package. "Ooo-err," he stopped himself short when he heard where Ryan was, "They like to get nasty when they're hurt."

Once Torquil decided to barely plant a finger on the package it exploded into a flurry of confetti and gifts, the first of which he noticed was a cane. A cane. He picked it up and shook it as he matter of factly told his friend, "I shall never use this, even as a pole-vault to the afterlife," and then he smacked it on the floor and nearly fell off his chair. As he gathered himself up and looked from the wobbly stick to Charisma suspiciously and then grumbled, "Or anyone else for that matter..."

He cleared his throat and moved on to the bottle of firewhiskey, admiring its date with a smile, "brilliant," he put it into his bag before returning his attention to the spyglass, "Deli will love it."

The Irishman popped open his spyglass and surveyed the table, Charisma first, "two for three, Aldridge," he chuckled and smiled, "thank you dear."

Then he moved to point his spyglass from person to person, "Charisma Aldridge," he began introductions as he shifted his view, "Vladislaus Dragulia, Ignan Storm, and er--" he lowered his spyglass and focused on the man for a minute, and honestly questioned, "Ignan's hostage?"

But as Vlad pushed a goblet toward him Torquil's attention momentarily shifted to wanting to get it filled, "Oooh, better not turn to jelly, Vlad," he grumbled before rubbing his hands together, "Lets get a round going, yeah? I say firewhikey?"

Ah, the marks of a good evening were here already - good drink! A good friend, a beautiful lady! Food, likely good or at least passable - and people he'd never seen before in his entire life! Yessir, this was likely to be enjoyable on some level, even in a glass-bottom boat observer kind of way.

Georg had dressed himself well, as usual, his suit a warm brown-gold color and well-tailored. His tie was a respectful yellow, his shirt properly starched, his moustache curled at the ends properly. His pipe had come along as well, since the prospect of drinking casually always called for its use. He'd also brought along a bottle of brandy, out of politeness; seemed odd to go to a birthday party with nothing.

He'd already helped himself to drink as Torquil and the others got to it. Torquil seemed an odd sort of man to be a friend of Ignan; but he'd have thought that of Trishna, too, so Georg had given up judging for now.

Torquil's comment earned him a broad smile. "Hah! Nothing of the sort, though he might maintain such a delusion," he told him fondly. "Georg Kirchlehner, my good man; schoolmate, friend, colleague of Ignan's. Nothing quite so interesting as a hostage, I'm afraid."

Aldridge had chosen well, clearly, Foley was most pleased, though Ignan couldn't work out why anyone would want the stick, it seemed something a child might enjoy, but then again, men liked their occasional jokes to keep their friends on their toes, it perhaps offset the thoughtfulness of the other two presents.

Foley used the spyglass around the table, landing on each of them in turn, ending on Georg.

"Ignan's hostage?"

""Hah! Nothing of the sort, though he might maintain such a delusion. Georg Kirchlehner, my good man; schoolmate, friend, colleague of Ignan's. Nothing quite so interesting as a hostage, I'm afraid."

"Well not lately, anyhow." Ignan echoed Georg's introduction. It had been tricky to introduce everyone earlier. "Georg teaches Charms at the school, and you should never ever challenge him to a duel." Ignan told Foley with utter conviction.

"Round of firewhiskey it is." He was uncharacteristically polite in organising it - though he'd been on his way. Best to get them all started and into the habit of buying for everyone otherwise they'd never get to the end of the evening based on finances alone, rather than their livers.

For the second time in two days, he found himself back in Hogsmeade.  Jonas adjusted the collar on his coat as he strolled into the warm, bright interior of the Three Broomsticks.  Much of Saturday had -- like the week's worth of days before it -- been spent at the Ministry, but there was something to be said for both maintaining contacts and seizing the opportunity to take an evening off.

It didn't take him long to spot the other redhead's table.  He had met Torquil Foley during the mummy debacle at the Museum, and despite his status as a pureblood, Jonas found himself rather liking the older man.  As expected, Foley was present with a small group: a few other older men, clearly closer to the researcher's age than to Jonas's, and a woman who looked considerably --

He paused, squinting in the direction of the table.  He'd had no idea who else Torquil was planning to invite, and outside of the Ministry and the underworld, his current contacts in magical society were relatively slim.  It had to be someone's idea of a bad joke that of all the people who could possibly be present, Charisma Aldridge would be the only one that he recognized.

Jonas hesitated for a moment, balancing on the balls of his feet, and then broke for the bar with a sigh.  His options were to either let someone's mere presence run him off or swallow his pride and deal with the situation.  At least he had alcohol to assist with the latter.  After laying down enough coins for a beer, he took up the pint glass and made a beeline for the table.

"Sorry to be so belated, mate," he put in, flashing Torquil a smile as he set his drink down on the table, laying claim to the chair next to Charisma.  If this was already doomed to be uncomfortable, he might as well make it as uncomfortable as humanly possible for the Cursebreaker.  "The office always requires a bit more'n I think it will.  Missed much, have I?" he asked cheerfully, pulling out the chair to ease into it.

"Aha!" the redhead exclaimed as he minimized and put his spyglass away, "of course, Charms teacher, good to meet you," and then he chuckled at the jest of dueling, "Comforting, just be glad you didn't have to go through my brood when they were all quite content on hexing each other into the middle of next week." He turned around to call for drinks and then saw a familiar red-head approaching them.

Torquil raised his arms up with his smile upturning his mustache, "Jonas! Just in time for the first round, good timing." As the drinks were placed around the table the Irishman pulled the goblet Vlad had offer towards him and moved to pour some firewhiskey into it, as he listened to Jonas.

"The life of an auror, something I will never envy," He focused a straight-face and tilted brows on Trevelyan,  then he poured his whiskey into the goblet and continued, "but I know a few ambitious scholars who'd love to have a gent like you on their payroll.."

Then tiny figures crawled out of his goblet and started singing and dancing, and Torquil rolled his lips into a fine line as his eyes narrowed into a squint at the tiny singers.

Once they finished the Irishman's squint settled on Vlad and his eyebrows rose on his head maliciously, "I still have four of my five children that have yet to reach immaturity," actually, two of them were of questionable maturity but he didn't need to explain that to the older wizard, "and I am sorely tempted to let them run amok at your next birthday." His scruffy expression twitched with a smirk as he chugged down the drink in his goblet.

Torquil proceeded to announce to the pub that Charisma was older than him and she feigned disbelief, blue eyes widening dramatically. “Lies. Blatant outright, lies, Foley. I’m only thirty-two.” After that white lie the welsh witch allowed a broad grin to form on her lips and proceeded to watch her friend open the parcel. First he took out the cane and acted entirely ungrateful but he seemed to like the rest. Charisma decided that would suffice and sat back in her chair, bright blue eyes following the direction of Torquil’s brand new spyglass to each of the table’s occupants.

A smirk played on Charisma’s lips at Torquil’s suggestion of the final man being a hostage of the man introduced as Ignan. “You’re professors?” The welsh witch questioned, leaning forwards now with her elbows on the wooden table. “I certainly don’t envy you.” Especially when Charisma remembered how much fun she’d had winding her professors up and getting in trouble in the forest. She spared a sideward glance at Torquil, her smile vanishing as she saw who was approaching the table.

Jonas Tevelyan marched up to the group’s table from the bar, apologised for being late and proceeded to park his rear end in the seat next to Charisma. Her teeth grit and she took a deep breath before several miniatures appeared from Torquil’s goblet and began to sing.

“I’m sure that truly makes you feel better about your age, doesn’t it, Foley?  I never realised not being dead yet was something worth celebrating.”

"Yes, yes we are Professors." Ignan replied to Charisma who asked while the focus was on him and Georg.

"of course, Charms teacher, good to meet you. Comforting, just be glad you didn't have to go through my brood when they were all quite content on hexing each other into the middle of next week." Foley assured Georg and then was distracted.

"Jonas! Just in time for the first round, good timing."

Ignan clapped eyes on the auror and lowered his gaze almost immediately so as not to appear too defiant. This was the auror that had put Tapendra into such a state yesterday, which he had yet to mention to Georg. He didn't look so much of a threat, but then again devious ones never did, Ignan knew very well.

"Sorry to be so belated, mate, the office always requires a bit more'n I think it will.  Missed much, have I?" Trevelyan asked, taking a seat beside Charisma.

"The life of an auror, something I will never envy, but I know a few ambitious scholars who'd love to have a gent like you on their payroll.." Foley explained while pouring whiskey into the goblet Vlad had given him. It promptly began to perform.

“I’m sure that truly makes you feel better about your age, doesn’t it, Foley?  I never realised not being dead yet was something worth celebrating.” Aldridge quipped.

"Oh it certainly is. You can't drink as a ghost." Ignan replied deadpan, and then smirked. "A drink to your good health, Torquil" He raised his glass, attempting to prompt the group to do the same, still keeping an eye on Jonas as unnoticed as he could.

Torquil raised his fuzzy eyebrows up towards Charisma, "It might," he queried, with a sense of justification, "considering this past year... month even," his voice had downed a little as he quickly moved to fill a proper unmusical goblet with a good volume of firewhisky.

As Ignan finished speaking the short Irishman lifted his drink around to the table, "And to all of yours as well." He leaned his head back and shot a gulp of alcohol down his throat.

The goblet fell back to the table, "Cut it close in Diagon during the daytime attacks," he breathed solemnly, "Diagon was wild. But it was so strange, the first one I came across seemed..." his gaze pitifullly scraped over the pitcher of whiskey, "more interested than a muggle than any wizard..." His eyes dragged across the table before looking up with furrowed brows.

"...Strange"

His hard eyes quickly animated with a quizzical look between the professors, "You two had a run-in with one too," it lingered as a question before his voice warmed with concern, "You're both in better shape now, I hope."

His lips peeled into a smile as he sneakily continued, "Wouldn't pull something doing a drunken viking trick?"