Stepping up between his new companions Harry pulled a bottle of freshly fermented Poitín from his bag, I stoppered it and slammed it down onto the bar top with a heavy thud which set the glasses all along the counter shaking. A dribble running down the side reached the polished wooden surface and let out a whisp of smoke as it began eating its way through.

"Wenn sie auf der suche für ein bessere getränke, junge Mädchen, probieren meine brauen."[sup]1[/sup] He declared in his best German.
[color=gray]{1} "If you're looking for a better drink, young girl, try my brew."[/color]

It was clear from the girl's clothes she was from the old European state, and her accent confirmed it for Harry. He'd had enough dealings with her countrymen in the past to know a little of her language, at least enough to get by trading, and drinking.