Of everyone in the village, Aberforth had been the one to notice the change in Ron first, and had reacted accordingly. It felt as if in a moment that the giant of a man was across the bar and in front of the teens, smacking Ron up the back of his head in a paternal manner.
"No." He ordered from behind the beard. Refilling Ron's pint with water, he replaced the lost beverage to their neighbor- setting further out of Ron's reach than before. Ron flipped him the bird and took a handful of the crackers in reply.
"Don't you worry. It'll be us all dead by Summer. You really think they'll want us back out in the world like this? What with our..." He paused, searching for another borrowed word from the Ravenclaws. "Battle-shock and anti-establishment... isism? We're no good for the country. A lost generation. A wasted one. That's us."