That's the problem with being the Jedi Master. People expect you to have the wisdom of Yoda or something to go with the ass-kicking ability. Especially your padawan. Harry crinkles his brow, glaring around the ... yeah, it's a bar. Or it looks like a bar.

"Hell's bells," he grumbles, then winces, remembering his determination to try to avoid blasphemy or excessive swearing around the Carpenters. At least Charity's not around. "This looks like something off the set of Star Trek."

Molly stands out in a crowd, but ... in this crowd, Harry's going to stand out, too. Especially if anyone makes the connection between the tall guy in the coat who just appeared out of nowhere and the sudden sparks shower from the lights.

He lets out a breath.

"Okay, Grasshopper. You veil and take a look around. And I will go see if this place has anything decent to drink. Let me know what you hear."