Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, including the lines from The Lord of the Ring trilogy at the beginning of the chapter.
Summary: Lucius and Snape concoct a risky scheme while Minister Diggory deals with politics.
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
Chapter Six: The House on Spinner's End
Lucius Malfoy paced back and forth across the hardwood floor of his bedroom. Narcissa was gone for the night, at some society function. At her bequest, Draco had gone with her, leaving her husband all alone in the house.
Lucius hadn't told her of the plan. It had been Snape's request, to make sure as few people as possible were aware of what he was doing. Knowledge would only put Narcissa and Draco in grave danger, something both men were loathe to do.
Lucius glanced at the clock on the wall. Quarter to nine. Fifteen minutes.
He inhaled sharply and strode from the room, pausing on the landing above the stairs. The grand stair case lead down to the parlor on the first floor. From where he stood, he could see the front door, the side hallway that lead into the dining room, and the entrance to his study. Behind him, the corridor branched to the right and the left, leading to other rooms.
The Dark Lord had stayed here once, living in these very rooms while he pulled the strings of all their pathetic marionettes in the Ministry.
The Dark Lord was gone, and with it, any hope for building a better society shriveled away as well. They would be left in the clutches of Mudbloods and Muggles, forcing their own lives to fall into the categories designed by these blood traitors currently in office.
"What's done is done," Lucius whispered to himself. That war was over, but others were just beginning, and he would not let his family fall prey to them.
He walked down the stair case and then made his way into the dining room. A house elf was standing there, the same one that Narcissa took with her when she visited Snape. The elf was trustworthy beyond measure, and too terrified of Lucius to even contemplate betrayal.
"Do you understand the plan?" Lucius asked sharply.
"Yes, Master," the elf replied in a high-pitched squeak, bobbing her head frantically.
Lucius turned away and stared at the door to the manor. How much longer, he wondered, and how could they be certain that this would work? The house elf hurried from the room, recognizing from her Master's silence that he wanted to be left alone.
And then Lucius heard the sound of footsteps on the floor, and he looked up at the entrance to the room just in time to see Snape step through the door, his wand in front of him, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Hello, my old friend," Snape practically spat, before waving his wand at Lucius and casting the Cruciatus curse. Lucius fell to the ground, shuddering in pain, and Snape gave him a contemptuous look before lifting his wand and letting the curse fall. "I thought I'd stop by for a little chat."
Lucius pushed himself to his knees and thrust his own wand at Snape, hissing, "Stupify!"
Snape blocked the spell with a flick of his wand, creating a shield between himself and Lucius. "Where's the wand, Malfoy?" he demanded angrily.
"What wand?" Malfoy shot back, face flushed as he fired another spell at Snape. The vase on the table behind Snape burst into fragments, tiny shards of pottery flying through the room. Snape didn't even flinch.
"The Elder Wand," Snape replied. "Potter took it from the Dark Lord, but we know that he doesn't have it anymore. What did he do with it? Where is it?"
"Even if I did know, do you really think I would tell you?" Lucius taunted. His white-blonde hair fell in front of his eyes, and he pushed it away impatiently, glaring at Snape.
"Don't lie!" Snape snarled, again firing his wand. A series of gashes appeared on Lucius' face, and crimson red blood leaked from the wounds. The Malfoy patriarch winced in pain, but kept hate-filled eyes locked on Snape.
"What makes you think I know?" Lucius asked, ducking behind the dining room table and throwing several more curses towards Snape.
"Runcorn told me that you knew," Snape replied, blocking the curses. He jabbed his wand at Lucius, muttering Crucio under his breath, and watched as Lucius twitched on the ground. When he finally removed the curse, he continued with cruel malice, "Runcorn said that you had discovered…"
Before he could finish the sentence, the house elf ran into the room, eyes wide with horror. "Master!" she cried, aghast at seeing Lucius cowering on the floor. "You is a bad man!" she cried, pointing her finger at Snape and sending him careening backwards through the air.
"Get… Aurors!" Lucius gasped, pain rippling through his body.
The house elf obeyed the command, disappearing with a loud crack.
Snape picked himself up from the floor, gave Lucius one last disgusted look, and turned on the spot, disappearing as well.
The house was silent. Frederick Hannigan stood just outside the boundaries, careful not to alert anyone to his presence. He knew that at least one Auror was always scheduled to watch the house, because its former occupant was still one of the most worrisome public safety concerns.
A glittering appeared, taking the form of a silver fox. It leapt with an easy bound across the overgrown stretch of grass, pausing next to the shadowy figure positioned near the rusted gate. The patronus reported some message, and the man at the gate nodded his head and disappeared. The silver fox then vanished like a puff of smoke in the wind.
Hannigan walked hesitantly forward. When he reached the path, he glanced left and right. Letting out a sigh of relief upon deciding that he was unnoticed, he pressed forward, pausing at the gate. It hung precariously on its hinges, prepared to topple over at any minute. Beyond the gate, the derelict house rose, dark and gloomy.
He pushed the gate open, cringing slightly at the loud squeak of protest it gave.
"You can go ahead, Hannigan. No need to be so cautious. There's no one here to hear you."
Hannigan spun around. Snape was standing behind him on the path, the gate the only barrier between the two men. The potions Master had his hands crossed over his chest, his wand clasped loosely in one hand.
Hannigan reacted as quickly as he could, raising his wand and crying, "Stupify!"
Snape moved so quickly that Hannigan almost blinked in surprise. He conjured a shield, protecting himself from the spell, then countered with an instantaneous and silent disarming curse. Hannigan felt his wand flying from his grasp before he could process what had happened, and a moment later Snape held both wands in his hand.
"Now that was just foolish," Snape drawled. He pocketed Hannigan's wand and pointed his own at the other wizard. "After you, Mr. Hannigan," he said softly, gesturing towards the house. "And let me be the first to welcome you to Spinner's End."
Knowing that he did not have a choice, Hannigan hurried along the path up to the door. He pushed it open and stepped into the house, choking on the dust that hung in the air. It was silent, save for the echoing footsteps and the awkwardly loud breaths of the two men.
Snape kicked the door shut with his foot.
"Runcorn said you wanted to talk," Hannigan said quietly. "I came… alone."
"Obviously," Snape hissed. "Did you really think I would reveal myself if you weren't alone? I have no desire to foolishly risk my life."
"How did you get the Auror to leave?" Hannigan asked. He glanced at the grimy window, the pale moonlight cascading through the water-streaked glass. He could see the distorted reflection of his own face in the windowpane, and the blurry lines of Snape's stiff back outlined against the night sky.
"I have my ways," Snape replied.
"What do you want?" Hannigan asked. He felt ill at ease, facing this dangerous enemy without a wand. And yet Snape had made no move to attack him in anyway besides the initial attempt. He let out a long sigh, waiting.
"You're planning something," Snape said coldly.
Hannigan allowed himself a smirk. "You have your secrets," he said tauntingly, "and I have mine."
"Idiot!" Snape snarled. "I have a wand, and you do not. You are in no place to mock me."
"You need something from me," Hannigan answered pointedly. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't." It was his turn to cross his arms over his chest in a defiant manner. "Wand or not, you won't get the information out of me." And in a final display of open disdain, he turned his back on the potions Master.
"How dare you?" Snape fumed.
Hannigan walked over to the bookshelf on the opposite side of the room. He knew he was pushing his luck, but Snape hadn't attacked him yet, so he would keep going until the risks outweighed the gains. He pulled down one of the books and stared at it casually. "So why are we meeting here?" he asked as though the question didn't really mean anything to him. "Why go to all the trouble to return home?"
Snape stiffened imperceptibly. This was not his home, had not been his home since Lily lived near him, played with him, shared their secret spot by the river with him.
"Why not?"
Hannigan raised an eyebrow, glancing over one shoulder with a questioning smirk. "Growing sentimental, are we? Do you wish you could come home again?"
Snape clenched one hand, then slowly relaxed each finger. He would not allow Hannigan to goad him into doing something stupid. He was here for one reason and one reason only, and that was to protect Minerva McGonagall and the Malfoys from whatever Hannigan was scheming. He reminded himself, over and over, not to underestimate this new enemy.
"My desires are none of your concern," Snape said finally.
Hannigan shrugged and replaced the book. He was playing a dangerous game, walking a very fine line between life and certain death. But Snape still needed his information, and for right now, that was the reason he was still alive. He could use that leverage, stay one step ahead of this vile traitor, until the opportune moment arrived.
"As you wish," Hannigan murmured.
"Tell me, Hannigan, why you are so determined to have me captured?" Snape pressed.
"I would have thought that my motives were obvious," Hannigan answered calmly.
"And you have no compunction about working with Runcorn? The man is hardly innocent of wrongdoing."
Hannigan's lips twisted into a thing sneer. " And I hardly think you are one to speak of morals." He ran a hand along the front of his robes, smoothing out the winkles and shaking off some of the dust that had collected. "But if Runcorn will help me accomplish what is necessary, than so be it."
Snape pointed his wand at Hannigan's head and muttered "Legilimens." Almost immediately, Hannigan erected the mental barriers around his mind, providing a blank wall protecting his memories from Snape's spell. Snape pressed harder, forcing his mental capacities to smash against the wall repeatedly. Hannigan hissed in pain and dropped to his knees, but his metal forces held firm.
Snape dropped his wand. He had not expected Hannigan to be such a skilled Occlumens. And although he probably would have been able to smash through the barriers eventually, it would have destroyed Hannigan's mind in the process. That would not do, Snape did not want to have to clean up the sloppy leftovers of an unwise plan.
But mental strength invariably came from physical strength. Break a person's body, and his mind would not hold out much longer. Only the most superb Occlumens could hold onto their barriers through even the most excruciating physical pain, and Snape always prided himself that he was one of the few with that talent.
There was really only one thing left to do, Snape decided. He pointed his wand at Hannigan. "Crucio."
"The Dark Arts are dark, Sev," Lily said, wrapping her cloak tightly around her chest and watching as Severus fiddled with his scarf. "That's why they're called Dark Arts."
"Even if you use them to protect someone you care about?" Snape argued, giving her a searching look.
Lily let out a little sigh and glanced around the snow covered grounds of the castle. "The wrong thing for the right reasons is still the wrong thing, Sev."
Forgive me, Lily, Snape thought as he watched Hannigan writhing with a dispassionate gaze. But some times the only possible choices were both wrong, and if his actions sent him to hell… well, he was probably already headed for a painful afterlife anyway.
By the time the last of Hannigan's mental defenses fell and Snape was able to gain full access to his mind, the Auror had returned to his post outside the house. Seeing the movements from inside, the Auror in question swiftly drew his wand and slid silently forward, pausing on the steps outside the door to listen to the gentle the sounds that surrounded him. He could hear the gentle whimpering of one man, and a growl-like muttering of another, both masked partially by the wind that rattled along the sides of the house and across the dust-laden floorboards.
Snape pulled his wand away from Hannigan just at the moment that the Auror burst into the room. He spun round, eyes widening at the sudden appearance of another wizard, and only just manage to avoid the stunning spell sent his way. Hannigan had risen to his hands and knees, shaking uncontrollably, and with a look of utter hatred on his face, he reached out one hand and managed to send Snape flying through the air. Snape hit the far wall, gasping for breath, and slid to the ground. He had not expected Hannigan to have such control over wandless magic, but once again, he reminded himself how dangerous it was to underestimate the enemy.
"Stupify!" the Auror roared again, but this time Snape was prepared and he reverted the spell back upon its owner. The Auror fell to the ground with a heavy thud, unconscious.
"Obliviate," Snape intoned, erasing the memory of the Auror. It wouldn't due for anyone to know that he was here.
Snape glanced at Hannigan. The other wizard was breathing heavily, but there was a mad light in his eyes that made Snape suddenly wary. Without warning, Hannigan launched himself at Snape. The physical attack caught the potions Master so much by surprise that he was at first unable to defend himself. Hannigan's fist collided with his face, and he felt something tearing at his hair and clawing his skin. A moment later he shoved Hannigan to the floor and turned his wand on the now apparently half-mad wizard.
"Is your tolerance for pain so low that you have already become unhinged?" Snape asked in a low hiss.
Hannigan pointed his hand at the stunned Auror, and the wizard's wand sudden flew through the air. Hannigan closed his fist around it, his lips pressed into a thin line, the mad light in his eyes growing more vibrant, more furious. His body began to tremble as he haphazardly fired curses and jinxes towards Snape. As he had not properly won this new wand from its master, it did not work as well for him, and most of the spells fizzled out before they could have any affect on Snape.
The potions Master curled his lip in disgust and Disaparated.
The moment he was gone, Hannigan stopped shaking. The crazy look in his eyes disappeared. Instead, a slow smirk spread across the face of the completely sane man. He stared down at his left hand which was clenched around several pieces of long, greasy hair.
"You'll help me, Snape, whether you want to or not," he said before striding from the house.
Lucius pulled the thin silver strand from his temple and placed it carefully in the basin of the pensieve. The silvery substance glittered at him, reflecting the light from the floating candles near the ceiling.
Auror Shacklebolt gace Lucius an uncertain look. He and several others Aurors had been brought here by Lucius' house elf, who claimed that Severus Snape had attacked her master. At first, he had not been entirely inclined to believe the creature, but upon arriving at Malfoy Manor, they had found Lucius, semi-conscious, collapsed on the floor of his own dining room. Shacklebolt had quickly called several other Aurors to search the premises while he revived the white-blonde wizard.
Lucius had repeated the story of being attacked by Snape, and when Shacklebolt had expressed his doubts about the validity of the testimony, Lucius had gone so far as to offer to show his memory.
Three other Aurors strode back into the room. Shacklebolt glanced at them, then said to Lucius, "Will you accompany me to view this memory?"
"I'd rather not," Lucius answered, feigning distaste. "I have no desire to relieve being tortured."
"Of course," Shacklebolt replied. Again, he seemed unsure, but he stepped up to the stone basin and leaned forward, allowing himself to be sucked into the swirling contents.
Then the sound of footsteps could be heard in the hall and Narcissa rushed into the room. She was dressed in stunning deep blue dress robes and her hair was coifed in an elaborate twist. Silver and diamond earings dangled, framing her face, and her throat was adorned with a diamond necklace. She looked exactly like the high society woman that she was, yet her face was not schooled into polite interest. Instead, her eyes were wide with fear.
"Lucius!" she hurried towards him. "Aurors stopped me on the way in. What has happened?"
"Where is Draco?" Lucius demanded, pretending to be worried about his son's safety.
"Upstairs," Narcissa answered. "Why? Lucius, tell me."
"Severus Snape attacked, madam," one of the Aurors interrupted. Narcissa froze, lifting her eyes to pin her husband with an uneasy gaze. He stared back, his expression completely unreadable, and Narcissa shook her head slowly.
"I don't… I don't understand…"
"He said something about searching for the Elder Wand," Lucius drawled, taking Narcissa by the forearms and leading her to a seat at the table. He gestured for her to sit down and continued, "He mentioned Runcorn. When I refused to help him, he was less than pleased."
Narcissa swallowed nervously. She wished for just one minute alone with her husband to find out what was going on. But the steady look in his eyes reassured her that this was all part of some greater plot and her wisest course of action would be to play along.
"Are you hurt?" she asked.
"No," Lucius replied. "Nothing that won't heal." He gingerly touched the scratches on his face. "I shall have to tend to these soon," he mused.
Narcissa pulled out her wand. "Allow me," she offered.
As Narcissa tended to her husband's wounds, Shacklebolt emerged from the pensieve, his expression grave and thoughtful. He nodded a cordial welcome to Narcissa, but she barely even glanced in his direction.
"Any idea, Malfoy, why Snape thought you would know where the Elder Wand was?" Shacklebolt asked.
Malfoy shrugged. "Runcorn said I did. But I don't. Why would I?" he asked rhetorically, wincing as Narcissa finished mending the last wound.
"And how did Snape get past your wards?" Shacklebolt pressed.
"I have no idea," Malfoy admitted, "but rest assured I will erect extra safety measures to prevent this from happening again."
"Runcorn and Snape are working together?" one of the other Aurors asked, glancing at Shacklebolt questioningly.
"So it would seem," Shacklebolt mused. Turning back to the Malfoys, he said, "I am going to station an Auror outside your Manor for the next few days, just in case Snape tries to come back. In the mean time, I will speak to Runcorn and see if perhaps we cannot discover the truth of the matter. I may come back to ask you more questions."
Lucius affected an utterly bored tone and replied, "As you wish. I will take my wife up to our room so that she may retire to bed. I will be down in a moment to discuss any last details with you."
Shacklebolt appeared a little put out by this blatant disregard, but he forced a smile and brief nod. Turning to the Aurors again, he said, "Search the room once more to make sure that we did not miss any clues. Then you may return home, or to your other posts. I will go find the other Aurors on the grounds and explain the situation to them."
"Yes, sir," the Aurors replied.
After Shacklebolt had left the room, one of the Aurors turned to his companion and said, "Hey, Baker, where were you stationed tonight?"
Baker grimaced. "Spinner's End," he replied. "Glad to have gotten this call, that place is creepy." He shook his head as the others began to methodically search the room.
"You probably ought to go back soon. We're not supposed to leave that post for any extended periods of time."
"I know, I know," Baker said dismissively. "But they did call for me to come also. They called for everyone who's on Snape's trail." He glanced at Lucius and Narcissa once more, then turned away. "I'm heading back now. Tell Shacklebolt where I am if he asks."
"Right."
Lucius slid his hand under Narcissa's arm and dragged her away from the room. They climbed the grand staircase in silence, then at the very top Lucius waved his wand and cast the Muffliato spell. Knowing that they were now able to talk freely, Narcissa spun around to face her husband, her eyes filled with fear.
"What is going on, Lucius?"
"Come into the bedroom," Lucius instructed. He lead her into the room, closing the door firmly and turning to Narcissa. "Snape needed to ensure that the Auror posted at Spinner's End would not be there this evening. He asked me to help him with that. And apparently that Baker was the one who was supposed to be there, and he was called away, so the plan worked."
"But what happens if the Aurors discover that this is all an act?"
"They won't," Lucius replied confidently. "All they have is my memory, and Snape and I made sure that the memory would not have anything incriminating in it. He worked out all the details of the plan, Narcissa. You don't need to worry."
"But why did he need to be there?"
Lucius crossed his arms and said in a low whisper, "He framed Runcorn, he probably managed to extract some of the truth from Hannigan, and he sent a message to both of them that he is not to be taken lightly. He killed three birds with one stone."
"I don't like this," Narcissa protested.
"Snape can look out for himself," Lucius countered. "I need to go back downstairs."
Narcissa licked her dry lips and nodded in assent. After her husband was gone, she sat down on the bed and stared blankly at the wall. It was true that Snape could look out for himself, but who was going to look out for her, Lucius, and Draco? The further entangled they became in this mess, the more dangerous their actions became. And Runcorn and Hannigan were certainly not to be underestimated.
Amos Diggory stared at the man in front of him, eyes narrowed slightly. He did not like this man, but he supposed that this was to be expected. After all, a spy was not meant to be liked.
"Let me see if I can fully understand what you are reporting," Diggory murmured softly, his brow furrowed. "Hannigan is calling for reinstating the Dementors at Azkaban. Harry Potter has used some form of dark magic against Draco Malfoy. Snape has attacked Lucius Malfoy and is apparently in league with Runcorn. Young Yaxley has initiating protests against the use of any form of Muggle technology in the Ministry, and Abbot has proposed legislation requiring anyone sorted into Slytherin to be separated from their parents to ensure that they do not grow up with pureblood prejudices?"
"Yes," the spy answered. He was just a young man, recruited at the end of the war to report to the Minister on what was happening in the country. It was his job to determine what was a threat to the national security and stability and what was not. Every week, he would appear in the Minister's office, his arrival unnoticed by everyone else who worked for the Minister. And every week, he would give his report, discuss the ramifications of whatever the new developments were, and then slip away, his departure as unnoticed as his arrival.
Diggory rubbed his eyes wearily and thought over this information. "Does Hannigan have support for his pleas?"
"Quite a bit of it, actually," the spy answered, his tone clearly indicating his disapproval at the idea. "Many people want the captured Death Eaters to be forced to endure that which they forced upon us."
"Despite the fact that Dementors are some of the vilest creatures ever to walk the Earth?" Diggory asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer. The spy said nothing, and the Minister bit his lip uneasily and gave a little nod. "I suppose the thirst for revenge does often cloud one's judgment."
"Indeed," the spy agreed.
"I am more concerned by Harry's use of dark magic," Diggory continued.
"Our sources say that Potter used it against young Draco Malfoy as a response to something rather cruel that Malfoy said about Black," the spy explained. "We believe Potter is… remorseful."
"He is driven by a need to see Snape apprehended and brought to justice," Diggory answered thoughtfully. "I will speak to Arthur Weasley and ask him to keep an eye on the boy."
"Is that all?" the spy demanded skeptically. "In any other circumstance…"
"In any other circumstance, it would not be Harry Potter," Diggory pointed out. "The world is barely holding itself together, and Harry is society's icon of hope and redemption. We cannot tarnish his name by adding this accusation to his reputation."
The spy looked displeased. "So he is above the laws of mere mortals?"
Diggory gave the spy an impatient huff. "Do you think I like having to do this? Of course Harry should face the same consequences as everyone else. But I am the Minister of Magic, I cannot concern myself with the welfare of one child at the risk of sacrificing the safety of the country."
The spy nodded, reluctantly accepting the truth in that statement. He often forgot that Diggory had been appointed to this position because of his abilities to cope with any situation thrown at him. He gave the general appearance of a doddering old man, sweet and gentle, and sometimes slightly senile. But his mind was sharp and quick and able to comprehend the political ramifications of almost any scenario.
Still, the spy could not help but insert the biting comment, "That is because you no longer have that one child to sacrifice."
Diggory flinched at the reminder of Cedric's death. He was silent for a moment, then he said firmly, "I will speak to Arthur Weasley. And perhaps Kinglsey. We will make sure Harry does not repeat his use of dark magic. But I will not risk our society's rather shaky stability."
"Of course," the spy replied.
"So… Snape attacking Malfoy."
The spy nodded.
"Shortly after Hermione Granger receives a note saying that Malfoy and Snape are working together."
Again, the spy nodded.
"And after I receive a note warning myself and the Headmistress about dangerous enemies."
For a third time, the spy nodded.
"And apparently Snape is working with Runcorn to find the Elder Wand."
At this point, the spy had given up nodding. He merely sat there, waiting.
"That is confusing," Diggory said finally, his words blunt. "I will think on this. Perhaps Kingsley will have some ideas."
"Will you speak to Runcorn?" the spy pressed, curious.
"Yes," Diggory replied. "Obviously." He lapsed into silence, mulling over everything he had learned. Then he requested, "Tell me about Yaxley and Abbotts plans."
The spy gave a bitter chuckle and said, "Yaxley is opposed to using Muggle devices in the Ministry." He paused, then added, "I'm not actually sure that we use any of their technology in our Ministry."
"Then why is he arguing this?" Diggory demanded.
"I would guess, Minister, that he is simply using this as a means to preach his ideas. Nobody is going to question him too closely about the specifics. And his ideas… they have weight among the population."
Diggory sighed. It was true, Yaxley was gaining favor. His uncle, currently spending the rest of his life in Azkaban, would have been proud. His ideas were simply new versions of the same old prejudice against 'impure blood.' Instead of calling on Muggle-borns thieves, however, he had simply resorted to expressing his concern that they were ill equipped to run wizarding society. After the war had ended, an initial backlash against purebloods had allowed almost every high position in the Ministry to be filled with Muggle-borns and Half-bloods. Then, a few months afterwards, the Ministry had started facing problems. They were the typical problems any Ministry will face at the end of a war; anger and hatred, ruined ties with other countries, the spread of infectious diseases, poverty, broken families trying to rebuild their lives while fear still lingered in the air. But Yaxley had managed to take these problems and blame them on the Ministry, saying that they were too inexperienced in matters of the wizarding world to adequately address these problems. After all, how could someone not born and raised in this world fully understand it? Never mind the fact that they may have spent much more of their life in this world than in the Muggle one…
He had never said one discriminatory word against witches of less than pureblood, never called them Mudbloods, never used the terms Blood traitors or Thieves, but all his accusations had been implied, and Yaxley was rapidly gaining popularity.
"And Abbott?"
"His ideas are quite the opposite," the spy answered. "He wants to separate Slytherins from their families. It is the parents influence, he says, that forces children to grow into the adults they become."
"His daughter Hannah was in Hufflepuff," Diggory said softly. "She was a year or two younger than my Cedric. His wife was killed by Death Eaters very early on during the first year after Voldemort's return was formally recognized."
"He is driven by the desire for revenge," the spy concurred.
"His idea is ridiculous," Diggory said.
"Yes," the spy agreed, "but it won't be the last of the anti-Slytherin legislation."
Diggory nodded gravely. Too many problems to deal with. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Finally, he said, "You may go."
The spy rose and left the room.