Gideon had seen the paper as well, and it'd given him a raging headache. He was a half-blood, so he was supposedly safe, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be long before that was under question. Plus he had no idea if his father was Muggleborn or pureblood or what, he'd never bothered to look into it. All it took was one more step and they'd be after the next lot.
What the hell were they supposed to DO about it, then? They were a rock band, and half of them had barely squeaked by on their NEWTS, how the hell were they supposed to stand up for something like this? Were they? It rankled, the idea of sitting back and just letting it happen. By the time Heath finally surfaced, Gideon was wishing he WAS drunk.
As Heath was finding out, however, the only booze in the place was a half empty bottle of cooking sherry Merton had used for something and then promptly forgotten.