"Brendon is grooming himself somewhere," Pete said solemnly. He looked hopefully at his glass, and then regretfully at the mixing supplies, and then gathered his wits about him and remembered that he was a wizard. And not only a wizard, but one skilled enough to mold the minds of young witches and wizards.
Which meant, very simply, that he'd need to perfect the art of magical assembly line drink-making sooner or later. He flicked his wand and set the ingredients to mixing themselves, lifting his glass to his mouth and taking a quick sip under the pretense of checking the recipe. "I thought we could let the refreshments make themselves tonight," he said, waving his glass between Mikey and William. "At least while we can still remember our own names, much less the Latin."