The story of Hansel and Gretel is, as every British witch and wizard knows, a tissue of appalling lies from start to finish. Cannibalism amongst wizarding folk has never been common; quite aside from the moral implications, the existence of Polyjuice and shapeshifting means that one would never quite be sure who one was eating.
Severus Snape (who had been told the tale at the age of three, further cementing his belief that Muggles were a lying bunch of wizard-hating bastards) was coming to the conclusion that while there wasn't a single grain of truth in the story, the pub table around which he and his fellow Death Eaters were sitting was very probably made of some form of cleverly moulded caramel (although he had to admit, it would have to be a very strange appetite that would deliberately lay bait for the unsavoury group assembled there tonight).
With an uncomfortable cough, one of the shadowy figures leaned forward to pick up his beer, but the table was having none of it. A minute-l