"So, did I really stand there last night and point my finger right at the founding ancestor of all apothecaries, telling him to get lost?"
Devereux sat slumped on the bench in the Great Hall, looking as lifeless as a frost-bitten eggplant. It was Thursday noon, and he was having lunch with Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but food had clearly lost all appeal for him. The events of the previous night had hit him like a bucket of cold water. After discovering the true identity of that "old codger," he had been completely distracted by anxiety.
Hector Dagworth-Granger.
Chapter 125