Friendship
"Come on lass - you can do better than that!"
Moody's jeer was accompanied, as it seemingly always would be, by a crimson spell ripping through the air right in front of her face, one she damn near threw her back out attempting to dodge. Moody had hardly started her gently on the whole process of learning how to fight - not duel, as she had been corrected. In a fight there were no holds barred - something he had demonstrated by striking her in one of their earlier fights with a punch to the jaw after she had been tricked into thinking the bout over once she had disarmed the ex-Auror.
Admittedly, saying she had disarmed Alastor bloody Moody was a notch in her belt that not many could claim to share.
"Don't fuck around trying to dodge everything girl!" The retort she had on the tip of her tongue turned into an audible grimace as she swiped her wand downwards as she bit out the shield charm's incantation. A jab led by her wrist allowed her to flick her wand through the movement without any delay, allowing her to focus on sliding herself out of her previous position - a whisper under her breath was all she afforded to the incantation.
"Expelliarmus."
It was a pathetic attempt if one was actually attempting to take the burly man down, but it was simply a spoiling spell, one that the man gave a half-satisfied grumble at even as her wrist rolled overhanded, the crimson bolt of the stunning spell lancing off her wand at the ex-Auror. Stupefy had been the spell that Moody demanded she learn silently - reasoning that such a wide variety of spells glowed red that an opponent would be torn between dodging, magically shielding, or indeed conjuring a physical shield.
That last one was somewhat of an issue - she was decidedly mediocre at conjuration in battle. It had much to do with the fact that Hogwarts was actively resisting being Transfigured, given how impregnated with magic every surface must have been. It made practice nigh impossible.
"Good!" Barely had he spoken before Steph jabbed her wand forwards again, shifting her weight forwards on her right leg and snapping out a cry.
"Confringo!"
The orange spell ripped through the air, rippling with energy that twisted and warped the spell - as if the energy within it sought to consume as much as possible, being held down only by her will. She had tried this before - Moody was a large man, and a physically maimed one. He was not nearly as agile as she was, and that meant that he would have to shield a lot more than she would, which meant she was capable of dictating the movement of the fight.
True to her assessment, the ex-Auror raised his shield spell and tanked the concussive force of the explosion on it, creating a thick and acrid cloud of black smoke just in time for her to cast another blasting hex, just fast enough to stop him breaking her momentum. A third followed quickly after that, and then a fourth - and that was when her lips started to feel numb, her teeth promptly sinking into her lower lip for just a second. She had tried this before against him, she had got to eight once before exhaustion had made her drop to her knees, gasping for breath.
He hadn't faltered then. It was a stark reminder that overwhelming firepower meant sweet fuck all if your opponent knew what they were doing.
But this time she had a plan - admittedly it was a plan she had made by herself, and one she felt was almost too good to fail, which almost certainly meant it would against one of Moody's calibre. With his vision obstructed by the smoke, she flicked her wand to the right, at the desks and chairs stacked against the wall of the classroom, softly uttering under her breath. "Accio."
A heartbeat later her wand tip dived back left and downwards, to a small spot just beside his real foot, and she uttered the spell that she had used four times already, before lancing her wand back up over her head, pointing at the ex-Auror. "Confringo! Stupefy!"
Barely had the words left her lips, before a white spell lunged from within the smoke and caught her dead in the wrist of her wand hand, even as the next concussive explosion detonated next to the ex-Auror, drawing a satisfying grunt from him. Not that she was appreciating it - her focus was instead on the pain that forced a muffled cry of pain to escape through clenched teeth as the bone breaker hex shattered her wrist.
It wasn't the first time she had been hit with the bone breaker - Moody had used it when she was getting a bit too good for him to simply respond with more basic spells. She had been taught it, but neither she - nor Moody for that matter - trusted her aim enough to not hit somewhere important accidentally. It was a potentially lethal spell, most were, but it more so than others, and she didn't trust herself enough to throw it around. She knew Confringo, she didn't know the bone breaker.
But just because she knew it, and had been struck with it before, didn't mean she was immune to its effects. A few sharp gasps of pain escaped her as she stumbled back, just about managing to pull her wand into her left hand and stagger to the side as a red spell whizzed through the air alongside her cheek. It had been a depressingly long time since she had tried anything left-handed, not after Mother had chastised her for it when she was learning to write.
A small leap pulled her out of the path of another spell purely on instinct, and she silently cursed herself for forgetting Moody's eye again. Pivoting on her heel, Steph placed her left side towards the ex-Auror, moving her wand in a pair of jabs that were intercut with a slash that was a little clumsy for her liking, but it was evidently enough, as the trio of spells jumped from her wand as they left her lips. "Stupefy, Diffindo! Oppugno!"
The stunning hex ripped through the smoke, revealing the ex-Auror standing there almost entirely unscathed, although wearing a grim grin that worried her for the handful of seconds she focused on it. Her stunning hex missed - she had cast it through the smoke after all - but her cutting charm forced the man to summon a shield before himself, which quickly turned into a retaliation as the first desk flew from the wall towards him.
The Oppugno jinx was incredibly useful in a fight, but in her state, she had failed to take something into account. Moody was far closer than advisable for the jinx. The ex-Auror jabbed his wand at the first desk, then flicked it to point at her - and the desk rocketed across the room to follow his instruction. She had no chance to truly dodge, but she sure as hell tried, twisting herself to her left and biting down the moan of pain as her shattered wrist ached at the violent movement.
Not fast enough-
Barely had she registered that she was going to be hit before the desk struck her right hip, and the sudden force imparted sent her careening to the ground. Her right wrist screamed in pain as it roughly bounced off the floor, and her wand tumbled from her grasp as she sprawled upon her back on the floor, groaning in pain as she stared at the dragon skeleton hanging from the ceiling, idly noting what it was. That's a Hebridean Black...
"Get up girl - a fight doesn't end because you need a moment." With a groan, Steph pushed herself up on her elbows, looking at the man standing in the middle of the room with an unplaceable look on his face. A quick wipe of her lips to clear the dust off them revealed instead that she had managed to split her lip in the fall, if the small bit of blood was anything to go off. With exhaustion and irritation plastered on her face and in her words in equal parts, Steph stared at the ex-Auror.
"The moment you hit me with that desk, I was dead." Moody stared at her for a second, before relaxing just a little and nodding.
"Aye, that you were lass. Show us your wrist." Offering the injured joint to him, cradling her right forearm with her left hand, Steph grimaced in anticipation as the man thunked his way over to her and pointed his wand at her shattered wrist. With a grumble, the man uttered the spell under his breath. "Brackium Emendo."
With a sudden pop that drew a gasp of pain from her, Steph felt her wrist set suddenly - shattered bone reknitting itself into the shape they had taken only a handful of moments prior. A grimace accompanied her picking up her wand and rising to her feet, acutely aware that Moody had only fixed her wrist and not the bruises and aches she would inevitably develop overnight. She gently curled her right hand into a fist, just to test the response. The pain was there certainly, but it wasn't unmanageable. At the very least, she wouldn't need any sharp gestures tomorrow, what with it being a day off for the arrivals of the other schools.
"Try some of those healing spells I taught you if you want to get rid of that split lip. Episkey oughta do it." Moody's rumble accompanied Steph carefully finding her feet, brushing dust off her back and skirt as she did so. It was only once she had finished cleaning herself that Moody continued. "You know what you did wrong?"
"Momentum." Of course she knew - it had been one of the talking points of just about every fight they had. She could keep Moody on the defensive as long as she kept her momentum up, but the moment she began to flag, Moody would absolutely flatten her, just as he had done a minute prior. She could hit hard, but pivoting from the offensive to the backfoot was a level of skill she just wasn't at yet.
"Aye - momentum is the key part of a fight. Fuck up, and you're on the back foot faster than you can say You-Know-Who." Moody looked at her for several seconds - as if examining her to see if the information had sunk in, before rumbling something to himself as he turned. "Good work with your left hand. That's all for the week. Dumbledore's got me doing work for the next few days. I'll send an owl by Wednesday. You're dismissed, Scamander."
She didn't have to be told twice. With a quick and deferential nod, she turned and ducked out into the corridor, swinging the door shut behind her and exhaling heavily as the cool air bit at her - the classroom was heated, evidently, but the corridor was rarely so, which meant that whenever she left, there was always a cool chill biting at her flushed skin. It helped take the edge off the heat blossoming throughout her body.
Her left hand searched for the wall, and she slowly walked herself over to it, resting her back against it and allowing herself to sag just a little as she let out a heavy sigh. Pulling her wand from within the sleeve of her cardigan, Steph pointed the tip at her split lip and whispered the spell she had been instructed to, giving the tip of her wand a small twirl. "Episkey."
"What the hell happened to you?" Jerking her head up, Steph looked to her right at the voice's source, and found Harry Potter looking at her with a mix of confusion, concern, and vague worry. Unease settled in her stomach as she gave him a weak smile.
"I don't suppose you'll buy that I hit myself on a desk?"
He wasn't buying it.
Even without the map telling him that she had just been with Mr Crouch and Professor Moody, Harry could deduce that Steph had probably been duelling someone. When coupled with the location they were in, it was obvious that she was receiving duelling instruction from Mad-Eye at the very least, but Bartemius Crouch was something he would have been unable to guess. The first time Harry had seen Steph leaving dinner early, he had thought little of it - he was her friend, not her guardian or Merlin forbid stalker. His concern had only really kicked in the next day when she had turned up to Transfiguration in the morning with a black eye - something McGonagall had promptly healed with a flick of her wand and a disapproving cluck.
He had followed her on the map the next time, and he had watched the unlikely trio shifting around the Defence classroom for almost an hour, before Steph had left, and he had followed her back to a nebulous point in the Ravenclaw tower where she had promptly vanished off the map - doubtless her common room. The next day she had turned up to Charms moving somewhat tenderly, the corners of her eyes pinched and her lips pulled thin as if she were in mild pain the entire time.
Harry had written Sirius shortly thereafter, and his godfather had met him in Hogsmeade that weekend. Apparently, it wasn't entirely out of the ordinary for Crouch to poach talented students from Hogwarts for an accelerated entry into the Aurors - he had done it to Sirius and Harry's dad. The only strangeness about it was the fact that Crouch was handling it himself - although Sirius had mused that it wasn't totally out of the question, given Crouch's new responsibilities that were being foisted off on 'Weatherby', his new assistant - and that he was doing it with Moody, of all people.
The instructions were fairly clear - don't go poking into Crouch's business with Steph. Make sure she was okay, sure, but don't get nosy.
"I can't say that I believe that, unless that desk was thrown at you." His dry remark drew a small grimace from the girl across from him, still leaning against the wall. A mumble was her first response.
"More like slid at me.." Harry blinked, briefly thrown himself.
"Sorry - what?"
"Nothing - anyway, uh.. What're you doing here?" Harry blinked again - ah, an excuse for intercepting Steph. That would be useful - and preferably without revealing the Marauders map. Only he and Neville knew of it at the moment - Daphne would probably love to know about it, but to be fully honestly, he didn't trust her not to spend her days pouring over it to find anything to her advantage.
"Well - I got worried about you. You leave dinner early, then turn up the next day all beaten up." Steph's grimace deepened as she straightened up a little bit - whether that was from an unseen injury or her own momentary self-loathing at failing to conceal her activities, he didn't know. It could just as easily have been both, she was a proud girl - Ravenclaws tended to be.
"I... Damnit, I suppose I didn't really expect anyone to notice." Harry gave her a flat look that he hoped conveyed his disapproval of the remark.
"Steph - we're your friends. Neville and Tracey both commented on it." The look on her face told him that she had definitely not missed the omission in that list - he didn't know what was going on between Daph and Steph, but the two girls were so much alike, that was probably what drove a wedge between them. Deciding not to poke that particular dragon just yet, he tried a different approach. "We all worry about you. That's what friends are for, right?"
Steph was silent, and for a moment, Harry felt his confidence flicker - just for a second, before the girl seemed to deflate a little. "I.. Sometimes it doesn't feel that way. Daphne and I.. Don't really get along that well, as you all well know. Every time I talk to her, it’s like I'm playing a game of chess... I suppose that's why you and I don't talk that much."
Opening his mouth to refute the remark, Harry could find no quick retort to her words - indeed, all he could do was awkwardly trail off, slowly closing his mouth as he did so. Her words were... Surprisingly true, if not more than a little concerning. An uncomfortable swallow was followed by his next question. "What... Does that have to do with anything?"
"Simple - Daphne." Harry blinked at her, echoing her words.
"Daphne? What does she have to do with that." Steph gave a pinched smile, utterly humourless.
"That girl's had her eyes on you since day two. I guess she knew what she wanted even back then - took steps to keep us apart." That... Sounded frankly horrible - and perhaps more concerningly, entirely like something Daphne might have done, even entirely unintentionally, no matter how unlikely it was that it was unintentional. Steph offered him a weak shrug as she continued. "Can't say I blame her too much, you're perhaps the most eligible bachelor of our generation. I suppose she viewed me as competition."
"That's... Horrible, what on earth possessed her to-"
"She's Slytherin, Harry. Ambition, through and through. Just remember that." At the apt assessment of his partner, Harry blinked - Steph wasn't wrong, Daphne was the perfect Slytherin. Perhaps so much so that he had forgotten she was of the house of cunning. But something just didn’t fit.
"What about Tracey? Why doesn't she get the same treatment."
Steph gave a small grimace. "Simple, she's a half-blood. And not a noble house bastard, she hasn't got the semblance of safety that being such would afford a half-blood. I don’t know what Slytherin is like inside, but I doubt it’s pretty for the non-purebloods."
"And the Headmaster can't do anything fix it, lest he tick off the school board.." Harry finished Steph's remark with a heavy sigh. "Things in the Wizarding world seem to fall apart the more you look at them."
"At least we're not Muggles.. Still - I'm glad the hat didn't put me there. Tried to, but I told it no… I think. I don’t remember much of it." Harry blinked at Steph - but decided to push the strangeness of her comment aside. That was a conversation for another day.
"That makes two of us. Wanted to put me in Gryffindor too, but I told it about the promise we made on the train that day." A look of fond nostalgia crossed Steph's face as the girl brushed a lock of her raven hair back into the bob cut. A soft sigh escaped her, carrying with it the same fondness.
"I remember that so clearly… it’s so odd looking back on it.. Who would have thought we would end up so.. Unfamiliar after such a start?"
"Well - your occlumency didn't help." At that, the raven-haired girl openly cringed, hanging her head just a little.
"I was a bit of an idiot rushing headlong into it. It was worth it, though. I can recall things I've only seen once." At Harry's disapproving silence, the girl slouched a little. "It did cost me you guys, though. In my defence, I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me."
"Why? Because you're a Parselmouth like me? Steph, I'm the last person who would judge you for that." Much like when he was talking to Daphne after she had said something stupid, Harry summoned that careful blend of chiding and conciliation into his voice, that careful balance that wasn’t insulting, but disapproving. "Tracey and Neville both tried to reach out on several occasions, but you kept driving us away. We lost half a year, Steph."
Much like on Daphne, it worked wonders, as the ravenette gave a sigh as she pinched her brow. "I know.. But I was panicked and stupid. It took my Nana sitting me down and telling me off for the message to sink in. I suppose I owe them both an apology… still, I wonder what became of that whole Parselmouth incident."
"So - Greengrass. Still no progress on Scamander? Some might say you're not giving it much thought."
At the snarky jab, Daphne merely rolled her eyes and continued up the steps to the female dormitories, ignoring Malfoy's stooge heckling her from across the common room. She didn't reply - Tracey did that for her, a jab thrown back across the room as she followed Daphne.
"Fuck off, Dieter." The chorus of cruel chuckles rippled through the common room as Tracey made her exit quickly. The brunette's remark held little tact, yes, and they were decidedly muggle - but even the haughtiest of purebloods would crack a chuckle at a rival being so flatly insulted. Slytherin was painfully stuck in the past when it came to most things, schoolyard insults included. Too wordy, Tracey had asserted.
If you're gonna tell someone to fuck off - tell them to fuck off had been one of Tracey's many memorable insights into the art of insulting.
Still, Dieter did have a point, and the moment that Tracey closed the door to Daphne's room behind her, she leant her back against it and practically parroted the question. "So, what are you going to do about that house project?"
Daphne gave a slightly frustrated exhale through her nose, setting her watch on her nightstand with just a fraction more force than was strictly necessary - it wouldn't damage the silver, but it wasn't good practice to show that the jab had gotten to her. Speaking with a hint of that frustration in her tone, she spoke to Tracey even as she pulled off the outer layers of her school uniform - she'd leave the rest for once Tracey had left the room. "To be blunt - nothing."
".. Nothing? Daph, I might just be a half-blood, but even I know that it’s not exactly a good idea to cross the entire Slytherin house." At the slight incredulity in Tracey's tone, Daphne's lips curled just a little as she placed her wand on her nightstand and glanced over her shoulder at the girl leaning on her door. Frustrated contempt got the best of her in that moment.
"It is precisely because you are a half-blood that you do not understand." At her tone, Tracey recoiled just a little, perhaps realising just how much she had overstepped by giving her own thoughts - thoughts that Daphne had already considered and weighed herself. "Do you know the Wizengamot, Tracey?"
"Of course-"
"And do you know my family's position? Understand it?" At the silence, Daphne straightened. Evidently, Tracey hadn't bothered to dip her toes into Wizengamot politics - a smart move sanity wise, but also foolish for one of the house of Slytherin. Disputes in Slytherin were just as much Wizengamot business as they were simple schoolyard feuds between rivals - it was half the reason Harry and Draco didn't get along, Lords Malfoy and Black had a storied history throwing shade at each other.
It was also the reason that Draco commanded even a fraction of the respect that he did, despite his severe ineptitude when it came to political manoeuvring and subtlety. It was the reason Daphne was so safe and secure in the house despite courting Harry Potter, the surrogate son of the head of the Auror Office. The house of Slytherin at Hogwarts was as much an extension of the Wizengamot, as it was the legacy of Salazar Slytherin.
"Tracey - my family has led the Neutral bloc in the Wizengamot for going on fifty years now. My great-grandfather formed the faction from the breakaways of the Traditionalists and the Progressives in the wake of Grindelwald's war. My grandfather led it through the Dark Lord's War. My father carries the mantle to the current day." Slowly gaining momentum as she went, Daphne picked up the book that sat by her bedside and stared at the leather cover - memories drifting back to the man whom she barely remembered. Her grandfather's journal had been a valuable tool to her, it had taught her what to expect from the worst and best of England's men - from Lords who wished to marry her for her name despite their massive age gaps, whom her grandfather had chased away, to men and women placing their freedoms on the line for his protection.
Never ask too much of those offering their all.
Tracey had given her everything for Daphne's protection in Slytherin. And here she was, berating the girl in spite of her grandfather's teaching. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Daphne turned to face Tracey, still holding the journal at her side. "My family values stability, safety for those who swear their allegiance to us, and in turn we expect that they abide by our guidance. If this scheme works, then the Neutral faction will doubtless be split, as will the Traditionalists, and to a lesser extent, the Progressives. We would doubtless see many Progressive reforms pushed through that would destabilise the county, and that would have otherwise been blocked."
"Doubtless, the Traditionalists will become more and more incensed - it could spark another Wizarding war, something no one wants. They would doubtless loose without anyone to actually lead them, but it would be another conflict that would bring more misery and suffering. It would leave the Progressives ascendant, would justify their actions. I do not, nor does my family, want a world where England bows to Albus Dumbledore any more than it already does." Daphne fixed Tracey with a look - the girl's expression was conflicted and horrified in equal parts, and Daphne decided to drive home the point as simply as possible. "If Stephanie enters the Wizengamot, it will split the chamber down another line. The Neutrals will decline - it will put power in the hands of an inexperienced girl who will be manipulated. My family will lose the power it has cultivated over generations. Why on earth would I ever allow that to come to pass?"
"But... God, do you truly think so little of Steph?" Tracey stared at her, momentarily wearing an expression of equal parts offense on behalf of the girl in question, and openly appearing wounded. The logic was clear - Tracey was still failing to accept the reality of the position in which she found herself. "And don't you worry about Slytherin? What they'll do?"
"Of course I worry, Tracey. For once, Malfoy has managed to get me where he wants me - if I go through with it, I could destroy my Family's legacy. If I obstruct it, I destroy my reputation in Slytherin. No, something needs to derail the plan entirely." Daphne paused, caught for a second on the first part of what the girl had said. Perhaps the time to be gentle was over. "And Tracey, before you go, just remember. Steph is with Neville."
Tracey's expression soured, and with a huff, the girl spun on her heel, pulling the door open and slamming it after her.
"Alastor. I trust you've been well. How has teaching been?"
The clunking footsteps of the ex-Auror trailed off as the man slammed down his staff onto the flagstones of the Headmaster's office, half holding himself upright off of it. With a grumble, he dug down to his flask and took another swig - something Albus mirrored with his own goblet of mead - albeit one heavily watered down. There was no excuse for getting drunk when one was in his positions.
"Little different to the Auror academy. Kids are either scared or too cocksure, just like a trainee Auror. Most don't have half a clue what they're doing, the others are Ravenclaws with their minds full of theory, or Slytherins with curses on the tips of their tongues." Alastor rumbled from his position by the fireplace, grimacing as whatever the man was drinking went down. Albus had long since given up trying to pry any sort of information from his old friend - the headaches simply were not worth it, nor was the stress of being on the end of Alastor's wand. It had taken more than an hour to convince Alastor that he wasn't an imposter. "But all of them share a problem - their teachers have been shite. Too many facts about werewolves and vampires, not enough waving of wands."
"I will admit, none of my previous... Choices, shall we say, have been of your pedigree." The ex-Auror rumbled again, this time with something akin to a dark chuckle, devoid of actual humour.
"You can say that again - you've picked a number of characters in recent years, Albus. Quirrell tried to steal the stone, Lockhart was a predator and a fraud, and Rakepick killed three students and put others under the Cruciatus. Last year Pettigrew worked his way into the castle, and you had a werewolf on staff." Albus let out a weary sigh at the list of criticisms - true enough the last half decade had been fraught with trouble regarding the posting of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Madam Rakepick had turned out to be an agent of some secretive cabal that had resulted in the death of poor Rowana Khanna and two others, Gilderoy had turned out to be far worse than anyone could have imagined, and Quirinus had been possessed by Lord Voldemort.
Although he had given good lessons on Dark Creatures.
"Remus was the best teacher they had in recent years, and there were several steps taken to keep the students safe..." At his weary sigh, Alastor gave a grunt - agreeing at the very least. A half-desperate question left him as he peered over the rims of his half-moon glasses. "Are the students at least learning?"
"Oh, they're learnin' alright. Young 'uns are amazed by making sparks come out of their wands. Older students show some promise, though a number of Slytherin's are too far advanced by my metric. Warrington and Pucey especially - I reckon their fathers have taught them a thing or two that should see them on the rock." One really could be forgiven for thinking Alastor was a madman with his hyper paranoid accusations. Cassius Warrington and Adrien Pucey were simply children, raised in households entirely unsuited for the upbringing of a child - they couldn't be blamed for how they had turned out.
If only...
Albus gave a soft sigh, speaking in a placating tone.
"I can't say I would approve of such actions from either side." With a soft clap, Dumbledore pulled his lips into a small smile. "And what of the fourth years?"
"You're strangely direct today, Albus. Who'll it be - Potter or the girl?" Dumbledore was unable to hide the frown that came over his features as he physically paused at Alastor's words. Almost instinctively, he attempted to sidestep the comment.
"Alastor - I have to admit, I'm not quite sure who you mean-" The ex-Auror openly chuckled with dark amusement, shaking his head as he clunked over to the other side of the desk.
"Give it up, Albus. We both know I mean Scamander. The question is why're you worried about her? The cursing she was victim to? Or is it something else?" Albus pushed himself out of his chair and regarded the ex-Auror with a wary gaze - Alastor could be unpredictable at the best of times, and right now Albus was not liking how he was rapidly losing paths out of the situation. But playing coy here wouldn't serve him any longer, Alastor clearly knew something was amiss with the girl.
"You've been training her, haven't you, Alastor?" The fact that it was in spite of Albus' own request went unsaid, both knew it equally well. Across from him, the man gave a grunt that sounded vaguely amused.
"Aye, I have. She needs it more than anyone, given who she is, Albus." Dumbledore was unable to keep his reaction in check enough to prevent his eyebrows from rising to his hairline. Soft surprise punctuated his barely whispered words.
"You know?"
Alastor rumbled yet again. "Aye - and likely so does the DMLE. And at this rate, so will all of England. And when they learn, the DMLE will have to start weighing your value against the publicity they'll be getting. Soon enough, you're gonna be more valuable to them before a jury than you will be as Headmaster."
".. Alastor, you of all people should understand what I did was for the good of England, and the girl." Alastor stared at him for several seconds, his expression growing stormier than usual, before he grumbled ominously.
"Aye. It kept her safe, but she's liable to be rather against everything you stand for if she finds out, Albus." The ex-Auror stepped away from Albus' desk, clunking his way over to the door with alarmingly swift limps. It was only once the man reached the doorway that he turned around and looked at Albus once again. "I'll do a sweep of the grounds before dawn, just t'make sure no one gets in whilst you're handling Maxine and Karkaroff."
Albus was unable to contain the long-suffering sigh at his friend's obsessive concern over safety. Finding it far better to allow the man to simply go ahead with the almost certainly unnecessary security measure, especially if it kept Igor and Alastor well away from one another, Albus sank back into his chair and stared at the table. "Thank you, Alastor. That will be all."
As the Defence Teacher thunked away down the staircase of the Headmaster's office, Albus Dumbledore stared at his desk and pondered on what he had been told. Sirius had certainly given him a piece of his mind back in June, and it was likely that if Sirius Black knew, then so did Amelia Bones - and by extension that meant the DMLE would be building a legal case against him for if it ever came out. Alastor had been right, the DMLE would pursue charges if forced, but on its own it was unlikely to simply smack him with the charges out of the blue.
And that could be disastrous beyond the almost definite incarceration that would follow. Not only would the Traditionalist faction in the Wizengamot suddenly receive a reactionary swing in their favour, but it would also cast a long shadow over the Progressive faction that would taint their voice for years to come. Sure, he had lent his voice to the faction on several occasions for critical moments, but if the facts of the Niobe situation came out, it would throw those critical moments on their head - it could see a generation of progress undone in one fell swoop.
But that was unlikely to happen - if it did, it would almost certainly come in the wake of Stephanie Scamander's heritage being publicly exposed to the world - and Albus Dumbledore was in possession of not only the influence, but also the people he needed to keep that identity under wraps until the days when it would not matter anymore. All he had to do was guide the girl through schooling on a steady footing - her friendship with Harry allowed him to kill two birds with one stone, they would doubtless balance each other out provided nothing unforeseen happened.
His biggest concern was the Goblet of Fire that would be unveiled tomorrow evening - Lord Voldemort would doubtless find a way to utilise it to his own advantage, and if his fears were truly warranted, young Miss Scamander would be a very useful friend to Harry this year.