A Longbottom did enter the pub, but it wasn't Claude's father but Ruth, his little sister.

But if he didn't recognize her at once, he could not be blamed. Her dress was clearly a mended something-teenth-hand version of a wealthy woman's dress that had been fashionable twenty years ago. It wasn't very revealing, but on what was clearly a poor young woman, it was suggestive enough. Her black curls were up in a half bun and fell down over her shoulder. There were many strands of hair purposely left untied framing her face.

She did not order a drink, but walked further into the pub in Claude's direction. Her dark eyes had passed over him, but she had given no sign of recognition. As she walked, her hips swayed, bringing out her curves more clearly. She cast coy glances at men here and there. One of them shouted something vulgar at her, but rather than taking offence, she slipped into the seat next to him and began talking to him quietly. Her knee frequently touched his.