Come Together

Chapter 5: Pub

Tom had never been in a muggle pub before. It was, thankfully, not much different from a magical pub like the Leaky Cauldron, just without all the cloaks, wandwaving, and floating objects. Surprisingly enough they were all transported to London, and Tom had to pretend to not look at the Leaky Cauldron, which was by Fate's design next door. Curiously too, was that the muggle pub he was in was called 'The Leaky Pot'. He wondered, briefly, if the two pubs were connected, a silent bridge between the magical world and the mundane world. However, if Grindelwald continued his reign of terror, and the threat of a Witch Hunt in Europe, all the bridges would have to be shut down. As is, the pub was devoid of customers before Tom and the soldiers arrived, which supported his theory even more.

Curiously, he was not arrested as soon as he set foot in England, which relieved Tom to no end. He assumed that since the battle was fought in Austria, the Ministry of Magic wiped their hands of the issue. Politicians, he scoffed to himself, always looking out for themselves.

Since most of the returned soldiers that weren't injured were all here drinking in celebration, it was rather crowded. Fortunately, the bar itself was devoid of people, probably because one could not lean back and relax upon a barstool. Tom himself didn't really care, so here he was, sitting at the bar next to Barnes. He had changed his clothes during the ride, to those riding with him's surprise and entertainment, into something a little more muggle. A white button down, black slacks with suspenders, black dress shoes and a black waistcoat had all appeared from his rather torn cloak.

"You know, you could call me Bucky. Pretty sure you're considered my friend." Barnes had laughed out.

"Do all Americans eventually have some odd nickname for each other?" Tom had replied exasperatedly, "I've heard you call Dugan 'Dum Dum' more than once, and Rogers seems to have acquired the moniker of 'Captain America'."

"Aw, don't tell me you're friends back at magic school never gave you a nickname!"

"..." Tom blinked at Barnes blankly, and a look of understanding crossed the soldier's face.

"...You didn't have friends at magic school, did you?" he finally managed to say after a few seconds of silence passed between them.

"Well, they would call me 'The Heir of Slytherin', which is more of a title than a nickname, but the name I've got for myself is far superior."

"Oh really," Barnes said with a smirk, "and what's that?"

"Lord Voldemort." Tom replied with a grin.

"That definitely sounds...wizard-y I guess," Barnes began slowly, the words 'sounds like a super villain' went unsaid, "Sounds almost French though."

"It is, it's French for 'Flight of Death'." Tom stated proudly, "And an anagram for my full name."

"And..." Barnes was really grinning widely now, to Tom's confusion, "how long did it take you to make up that name?"

At this, Tom frowned.

"...a couple months, at least. I spent most of my hours in History of Magic working it out in Fifth Year..."

Apparently, Barnes could contain it no longer, and began to laugh. Tom tilted his head in confusion. Was it something he said? Was Barnes laughing at him? Barnes continued to pound the bar with his fist, and called our for another drink for the two of them.

"Kid, that's cute. Sounded like you wanted to show me a macaroni picture that you slaved all day over!"

"Are you comparing me to a toddler?!"

Barnes...Bucky's laughter was the only answer he received.

"Well, I'll tell you what. If there's any need for all of us to go under code names, I'll use Lord Voldemort."