Bobby knew they couldn't linger. He knew his father would want to ask questions and find out all the things, but Bobby wasn't really prepared to deal with what he'd already seen of the views that more 'pure-blooded' wizards had on muggles.
So having quickly spoken to the barkeep, he ushered his father along and through the bar until reaching the wall that formed the entrance to Diagon Alley, getting out his wand and tapping out the three-along-two-up that opened the way forward.
As he took his father's hand again, Bobby sounded a bit sad. "The bartender said we should hurry, before it got busy." Well, that wasn't what he'd said. What the bartender had actually said was more that 'under better times, them folk's like your father woulda been allowed here to eat an' drink, but since the Statute came in, we can't exacterly talks to the muggles, and Diagon Alley is that way, if you, er, wouldn't mind, young sir'.
But Bobby had already learned to straddle the divide between his own world of haves-and-have-nots. It never made him feel good. Maybe he should have brought his mother this year, she at least didn't seem so disconcerted by the idea that she was somewhere she wasn't particularly wanted. Bobby had given plenty of thought to his post-school days, and whether he wanted to settle more in the mundane and muggle or the magical world, and he never quite had an answer.
None of that mattered as the wall finished opening before them and he enthusiastically took his father's hand again, faith seemingly restored, as they stepped forward into Diagon Alley.
After all, he thought, there really were other students like him with non-magical parents, and Diagon Alley hadn't seemed too awkward in the past about it. Maybe the bartender was just having a bad day this time around. It was warm and stuffy in the bar, as it had become warm outside, and that roaring fire wouldn't have helped much.
He got out the list and showed it to his father.