The Questioning
Hermione reached the top landing of a staircase that led to The Headmistress office. Confronted by a stone gargoyle guarding the entrance she pronounced the password, "Felis Amicus Hominis." The unsightly figure yielded with a creak of twisting stone, revealing another spiralling staircase. Before long, she arrived at the arched door with a silver gryffin-shaped knocker. With a single, deliberate rap, the door groaned open, granting her entry.
"Come in, please." a voice called from inside.
Upon entering, Hermione found Professor McGonagall, now the headmistress, seated at the grand desk. At one end, her iconic pointy hat stood retired, overseeing a meticulously arranged collection of Transfiguration textbooks and a neat stack of students' scribbles. In the Professor's poised hand, a large, reddish-brown quill hovered above parchment, prepared to deliver its discerning verdict on her students' essays. A petite figurine of a cat adorning the desk seized Hermione's attention, its sapphire eyes blinking, and its tail swaying in a leisurely manner. It reminded her of Crookshanks, who had peacefully departed the previous autumn at the ripe old age.
"Professor Granger," the woman greeted looking up from an essay, her stern expression shifting into a genuine smile. "We haven't seen much of you recently," she added, with a questioning arch of a brow.
"Oh, the beginning of the academic year and all. I've been busy setting up my classroom and getting back into the routine."
"Well, you must know I was pleased to learn that your sixth- year students scored their highest marks in the exam in the last twenty years. It's, no doubt, partially the result of your own hard work. I am glad you're taking your responsibilities seriously, but remember, Hermione, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Well, what brings you to my office? Can I help you with something?"
Hermione sought for words to best formulate her query, "There's something I wished to discuss with you, Professor McGonagall. It's a matter of some importance, and I hope you'll consider it seriously."
Professor McGonagall nodded, setting aside her quill and giving Hermione her full attention. The cat figure on the desk, spotting a new toy, began to stalk towards the fluttering feather like a predator.
Hermione took a deep breath as she observed the cat make a playful jump on the feather.
"I'm… I'm in need of a brief leave of absence from my teaching duties," she began, choosing her words carefully.
The Headmistress raised a thin eyebrow, a hint of concern flickering in her eyes, "A leave of absence? Is everything alright, Hermione?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment, contemplating how much she should reveal to justify her request. "It's a personal matter, Professor. Nothing to worry about, but I just need some time away."
McGonagall studied Hermione for a moment from behind her spectacles. "You've always been dedicated to your work, Hermione. Is there something specific that's prompting this sudden request? Hogwarts relies on its staff, especially during the term."
"I understand, Professor, and I assure you it's not a decision I take lightly," Hermione replied, maintaining eye contact. "It's a family issue that I need to take care of," she lied, feeling her cheeks pinken a little, as she was not used to telling falsehoods.
There was a subtle shift in McGonagall's demeanour, as if she sensed there was more to the story. "I trust you, Hermione. You've proven yourself again and again. If you need this time, I won't stand in your way. However, I do hope you'll share more details when you feel comfortable. Hogwarts is a community, and we care about our own."
"Thank you Professor," Hermione said, relieved that McGonagall wasn't pressing for more information. "I appreciate your understanding. I'll ensure that my absence won't disrupt the flow of the academic year, and I'll be back as soon as possible."
"When exactly may we expect you to be back at your duties?"
Hermione made some quick calculations. She had no way of knowing if her mission would be successful but she would give it all she had.
"Several weeks, perhaps eight or nine?"
McGonagall's forehead creased. She offered her an intent look but her tone remained unchanged,
"Very well, Professor Granger, I trust your judgement. However, an extended leave like this requires approval from the Board of Governors. They must be informed and provide their consent for such matters. I'll start the process, but you may need to present your case to them as well."
Hermione's heart sank slightly at the mention of involving the Board of Governors. She hadn't anticipated this additional layer of complexity.
"Of course, Professor. I understand the procedure."
McGonagall's stern gaze softened, "I don't doubt you have a valid reason for this request, Hermione. The Board will likely want to ensure the continuity of your classes during your absence. Prepare a plan for the substitute teacher, and any relevant documentation to support your case."
"I will, Professor. I appreciate your assistance in this matter," Hermione replied, her mind already racing with the logistics of presenting her case to the Board of Governors.
"Keep me informed of your progress, and if there's anything you need from me, don't hesitate to ask. We'll do our best to accommodate your situation," McGonagall assured her.
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. I'll ensure that everything is in order," Hermione said, determined to handle the matter as smoothly as possible.
As she left McGonagall's office, Hermione couldn't shake the unease that lingered. The prospect of facing the Board of Governors added an extra layer of stress to her already complicated situation. She hoped Lucius hadn't acted on his words and passed on the details of their conversation in Borgin and Burkes. That could jeopardise her chances altogether.
"Miss Granger, you understand it's not our customary practice to grant permission for teachers to take extended leave mid-term unless it's due to a genuine emergency, such as personal health concerns or similar circumstances," patiently explained Mr. Yablonski, the Head of the Board of Governors.
It was an emergency but of course she wouldn't tell them that.
Mr. Yablonski continued, "Especially with the two-week long holidays approaching in December. Are you certain it cannot wait till then?"
Considering the alarming rate at which the curse was spreading, she could drop dead any time soon. No, it could not bloody wait.
Hermione did her best to swallow the anxious lump lodged at the back of her throat. Despite having meticulously prepared her arguments, the challenge of presenting them in the room with seven pairs of eyes fixed intently upon her was something else. While only half of the Board members were present (suggesting that her case was not deemed crucial enough to warrant the entire board's attendance), she couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be any more difficult if all were there.
Meanwhile, another member of the board, with beady eyes spoke up, "I wonder what could be so pressing a matter that you need to take a leave now…"
His tone bore a subtle accusation, as if insinuating some sinister motive. Was it possible that Lucius had acted on his words, potentially repeating to them the sentiments she had expressed, now possibly being construed to her disadvantage?
As she grappled with her thoughts, Hermione felt her mouth go dry, making articulating her thoughts even more challenging.
Unexpectedly, Professor McGonagall came to her aid. "Will you finish the questioning already? Mr Granger is not a student trying to wriggle out of a Potions class; she is a qualified adult. She has not taken a single day off since she started working, and her request for leave can be trusted."
"Professor McGonagall, we're merely emphasising that such allowances are not granted lightly."
"You've made that abundantly clear already. Any more clearer and you might as well write it in the sky with Weasley's fireworks," Professor McGonagall with a wry half-smile. "We all understand the gravity of the situation, but repeating it won't expedite the process. Miss Granger is not asking for a vacation to bask in the sun; she's clearly dealing with a serious matter."
Hermione welcomed McGonagall's intervention, hoping it would cut short the redundant questioning. However, Mr. Yablonski, undeterred, persisted, "We also need to consider the disruption to the students' education. It's not a trivial matter to have a key teacher absent for such an extended period."
Hermione could swear she caught a discreet eye roll from McGonagall, her patience unmistakably wearing thin. "Yes, Mr. Yablonski, I believe we've sufficiently covered that point thoroughly in the last twenty minutes. Hogwarts faced more disruption in the past than a Care of Magical Creatures class with a loose hippogriff. Rest assured, Miss Granger understands the significance of her role and stands fully prepared to handle her absence responsibly, ensuring the seamless resolution of the situation. Not a single homework assignment will slip through the cracks for the students."
Hermione found herself appreciating the stern professor more than ever.
"Now, if we're done stating the obvious, perhaps we can move to a decision," McGonagall suggested, shooting a pointed glance at the overly cautious board members. "I have full confidence in Miss Granger's ability to manage her responsibilities. Let's not forget, she did help save the wizarding world once or twice."
The majority nodded, recognising the futility of prolonging the discussion, or perhaps not eager to endure subtle insults from the headmistress. Hermione took the moment to convey her gratitude to McGonagall with a sincere and appreciative smile.
"Alright. Considering your excellent records, we might be inclined to honour your request, Miss Granger," Mr Yablonski said at length, addressing her directly again, "Have you already arranged for your substitution?"
"Yes, Mrs Septima Vector, who retired from teaching last year, has graciously agreed to take over my classes for the next two months."
"Then we've reached a consensus, Miss Granger. We're all professionals here but we're not devoid of empathy. Take the necessary time off and we look forward to your safe return by the end of February."
Hermione nodded in agreement, although that would depend entirely on the success of her quest.
"Wonderful, if my presence is no longer required, please allow me to leave. As the headmistress I have important matters to attend to back at school," said McGonagall, her tone hinting at impatience after the discussion had dragged on for an hour.
"Naturally, Minerva. Miss Granger, would you mind staying back for a few more minutes? There are a few formalities we need to fulfil. Could someone please summon the papers? And why is it that the quills never seem to stay in their proper place?"
Hermione felt a distinct unease about staying alone with the wizards, particularly the one with protruding belly and receding hairline who couldn't seem to take his eyes off her tights-clad legs in a manner that was neither professional nor empathetic. In hindsight, she mused that opting for long wizarding robes instead of the pencil skirt and smart blouse might have been more prudent, but her usual lack of concern for the witch-appropriate apparel prevailed. Issuing a frosty look at the ogler, she crossed her legs at the ankles more tightly, and discreetly adjusted her skirt, which had inconveniently rolled up in her seated position, revealing more thigh than was suitable in the setting.
Her attentive eyes scanned the leave form that flew into her hand along with the quill, and she meticulously filled in the required details. Once completed, she extended the document toward Mr Yablonski, before exiting the room, a sense of relief washing over her as she realised that she was finally free to get on with her mission of reclaiming her health and her life.
The polished marble flooring in the MInistry corridor resonated with the thud of heavy dragon-hide boots. Lucius Malfoy strode down the passage, his distinctive silver cane tightly clenched in a gloved hand, his discontent evident in the low muttering that accompanied each step. Once, this space had unfolded before him like an extension of his own grand residence at the Manor. Now, he found himself waiting in line to meet with a minor office worker- a Junior Undersecretary, no less. The irony struck him. This hour-long wait, inconceivable in the days of enjoying whiskey over the counter in Thicknesse's office or even in the era of Fudge - the unwitting pawn easily swayed by Lucius' influence so long as his galleons continued to flow into the coffers the Ministry and various esteemed, Ministry-sponsored institutions.
The reverent looks he once effortlessly commanded were now supplanted by cool, polite indifference. Behind the veneer of civility (after all, he was exonerated from his crimes) there lingered a quiet satisfaction at witnessing his descent from the pinnacle of power- a stark contrast to the absence of the old fear and respect that his presence once invariably stirred. The Second Wizarding War cast a dark and substantial shadow over his opulent legacy, dismantling the walls of privilege he had so painstakingly erected.
Fresh from a meeting with the Junior Undersecretary, the draft bill he had proposed was summarily rejected. The reason cited was that it was "diametrically opposed to the new principles of equality we're trying to uphold." However, Lucius couldn't shake the suspicion that his dark past, entwined with the Dark Lord, played a significant role in the unfavourable decision. The affiliation had cost him more than he bargained for- the permanent fracture of his marriage, and, more significantly, the forfeiture of his once-respected position. If he could have foreseen the outcome, he would have never succumbed to the allure of Pureblood supremacy that initially drew him to Voldemort.
Just then, a lilac-coloured memo shaped like an aeroplane, clearly off-course, darted directly in front of Lucius' face. Its folded paper tail grazed the skin of his nose, prompting an irritated grunt from Lucius, and he aimed his wand -concealed within a serpent-topped cane -towards the disoriented missive. In an instant, it burst into vibrant flames, its charred remains descending onto the floor, far from its destination.
Pausing briefly, Lucius casually shook off a still-smoking fragment from his shoe, resuming his contemplation. In his estimation, the Ministry was undeniably spiralling into disarray, the inevitable outcome of entrusting leadership in the hands of an alliance comprised of Half-bloods, Muggleborns, and what Lucius perceived as excessively tolerant Purebloods, blissfully ignorant to their inherent superiority. Kingsley, the Minister appointed in the aftermath of the War, wasn't lacking in intelligence. Still, his critical flaw lay in his indiscriminate treatment of both deserving high-born Purebloods and the Muggleborn scum who seemed to proliferate throughout the Ministry halls like an uncontrollable outbreak of the highly contagious Scrofungulus.
To compound matters, almost as if taunting him further, Hermione Granger emerged from the meeting room further down the corridor, donning a smile that was altogether too pleased for his liking. As she advanced in his direction, her elation dimmed slightly upon catching sight of Lucius Malfoy, who keenly observed that the moment her eyes met his, her smile faltered while his frown deepened into a disdainful sneer.
The greeting, more a combat of glares than words, unfolded with razor-sharp brevity.
"Malfoy."
"Granger."
Lucius, unable to resist the urge of casting a pall over her day, especially given the already dim state of his own, shifted his gaze toward the meeting room, still occupied with the door slightly ajar. "Disciplinary meeting, was it? Your teaching methods catching up to you, I presume?" he remarked.
Hermione's expression morphed into a thin-lipped smile, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of defiance. Her shoulders squared, a fortress of resolve against the incoming onslaught, "Sorry to burst your fantasy bubble, Lucius. It wasn't about discipline. We were discussing my brief leave of absence," she answered automatically, almost biting her tongue as she did. He detected a slight edge in her voice that hinted at her underlying defensiveness.
Lucius raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow, feigning interest. "Leave? My, my, Granger, I would have thought someone of your esteemed intellect could handle the rigours of teaching without needing a holiday in the middle of the term," he drawled.
Hermione shot him a withering look, "Guess again. It's a personal matter, and it's of no concern to you."
Lucius chuckled, the sound dripping with condescension. "I do hope it's nothing scandalous, for the sake of Hogwarts' reputation."
Hermione's resolve solidified, and she held his gaze without flinching, "Mind your own. I suppose even family gold can't buy back lost integrity. Must be quite the adjustment, no longer pulling the strings from behind the scenes."
Ouch, this one hit a nerve. Nevertheless, Lucius was methodically working to reclaim his influence. The Ministry might flaunt a sturdier exterior, less susceptible to manipulation, but even steel had its chinks. He was on the hunt for the precise leverage that would pry open those weaknesses.
"It's a matter of time and patience. I am a patient man, Miss Granger, especially when it comes to securing what I desire," Lucius responded with a measured calm.
"Patience may be a virtue, but in this case, it's about as useless as your galleons. Ever considered a different currency? Character reform, for instance - an increasingly rare commodity these days."
"You fancy yourself quite clever, Miss Granger? Your absence, Miss Granger, will surely cast a shadow over Hogwarts. The wellspring of wisdom and moral guidance that you graciously provide will unquestionably be sorely missed during this regrettably brief sabbatical," said Lucius, his tone painted with an unmistakable brushstroke of sarcasm.
"It's a shame your own moral compass decided to take an indefinite vacation. Had it not, you might still find yourself warming the seats among your erstwhile colleagues from the Board."
"If I were still on the Board, your days at the professor would be on a swift countdown. Fortunately, no heir of mine is currently at school to suffer the disgrace of a Mudblood in authority."
"No, if he did, he would have turned out less of a prick, I am sure. But working under one should be ample compensation," Hermione retorted.
Lucius seethed with indignation. When Draco boasted of his recent appointment to the Department of International Magical Cooperation (a post acquired with considerable prodding on Lucius' part), he deftly sidestepped this topic. A serious conversation with his son was in order. It fueled his determination to rectify what he perceived as a deviation from the rightful order. Mudbloods, like her, required a firm reminder of their proper place - beneath.
"Do not. Insult. My. son," Lucius uttered through gritted teeth. Under different circumstances, you'd understand the consequences of your words and their repercussions."
"Openly confronting me, the Ministry's so-called darling, as you once labelled me, right under the Minister's gaze will hardly serve your case, will it?"
"You don't want me your enemy, Granger," he warned. The impulse to thrust the handle of his cane beneath the defiant tilt of Granger's chin was strong, yet he restrained himself. Observing the door open another inch, exposing his ongoing conversation with Granger, he smoothly shifted back to a facade of civility.
"Enemies, Mr. Malfoy? I reserve that distinction for worthier adversaries."
A predatory glint flickered in Lucius's eyes, his next words measured out with venom. "Beware, Granger. I am not one to be trifled with. Don't mistake my restraint for weakness."
Hermione met Lucius's predatory gaze with an unwavering stare. "Restraint? Your threats are as feeble as your antiqued principles, Mr. Malfoy."
A chilling smile played on Lucius's lips, his controlled stance belying the storm within.
"You may find my principles archaic, but history has a way of vindicating the right. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," the Latin phrase slithered from his lips like a serpent's hiss.
Her response, swift and laced with disdain, cut through the tension. "History, also etches in stone the folly of those who persist on the wrong side, Mr. Malfoy. Surely that's a lesson you've had time to grasp?"
"The wrong side, my dear, is merely a matter of perspective."
"Relativism isn't a blanket excuse," Hermione countered sharply. "Perspective doesn't exempt one from accountability. Justice is bound to catch up with you eventually."
"Miss Granger, the self-proclaimed dispenser of justice. This remains to be seen," replied Lucius with a nonchalant air.
"Your optimism is quite striking, considering you're already on the losing side," snorted Hermione.
"And for someone, as you view yourself, on the winning side, your vindictiveness is equally notable. It makes one ponder if there's an unseen inner upheaval that fuels such spirited behaviour."
Lucius knew he had her cornered. Hermione offered no response. An exhalation of frustration escaped her, and the warm breath she expelled caused a gentle flutter at the ends of his hair as she briskly moved past him in the narrow hallway.
Lucius' silver gaze lingered on the contours of her retreating silhouette, a paradoxical blend of vexation and fascination ignited by her unyielding demeanour. Even in the aftermath of his past glory days, rarely did he come across a witch or wizard unafraid to openly challenge him, rendering the encounter an oddly invigorating and exhilarating experience.
Turning his focus to the door, Lucius found himself drawn to the spirited discussion unfolding within. Succumbing willingly to the temptation to eavesdrop, an oft-practised art that seemed to come naturally to him, he immersed himself in the dialogue.
In a lofty and self-important voice, he identified Yablonski, the head of the Board of Governors.
"Well, sirs, what do you make of her?"
"She's certainly not lacking in the aesthetic department," chuckled Mr. Fern, a man whose fondness for young and beautiful witches was widely acknowledged but never acted upon, driven by a prudent fear of his wife, the venerable Mrs. Fern, who surpassed him in height by half a head, and in hexing prowess by an entire wand length.
"I was referring to her request," scolded Yablonski, "Though it can't be denied that young Miss Granger is a witch of considerable charm."
Lucius winced at these words, taken aback that anyone could speak of Granger in such a manner. Memories of their encounter at Borgin and Burkes flashed in his mind- she emerged defiantly after him from behind the curtain, flushed cheeks betraying anger, golden eyes shooting unseen daggers, hands on her hips accentuating the graceful curve of her feminine figure. Despite his reluctance, Lucius begrudgingly conceded the truth in it. Miss Granger might be an irksome presence, but she was not devoid of a witch's allure.
"Gentlemen," began Mr Mallard, a man of few words who rarely contributed during Board meetings, instantly seizing Lucius's attention. "Miss Granger recently sought a private audience with me, inquiring about a rare and relatively obscure artefact- Blackthorn's moonstone ring. I say this in all confidentiality, but it appears she may be on a quest to locate it. Her interest in the item and the legends surrounding it was, I must say, quite noteworthy."
A scoff resonated in the room. "So, our dear Miss Granger believes in fairytales," a snarky voice remarked. "I thought a witch of her renown would have more sense than that."
A collective murmur of agreement swept through the assembly.
Lucius, his interest now fully ignited, leaned in to catch every word. Raised in a traditional Wizarding family, he had heard about the stone, but never paid it much attention.
"Why would she be so interested in such a thing?" someone ventured to ask.
"That remains unclear," Mr. Mallard admitted. "However, it's worth noting that the potential advantages of finding the Blackthorn's moonstone ring could be well worthwhile, if it were indeed real," he added with a hint of condensation." Nevertheless, it might explain why Miss Granger, despite her logical reputation, is pursuing this matter with such fervour."
Lucius Malfoy's silver eyes gleamed with a newfound intensity. The idea that the artefact possessed the power to remove curses sparked a sudden realisation in him and a sly smile crossed his lips as he considered the possibilities. In the complex world of politics, where influence was often wielded through the subtle manipulation of circumstances, the power to lift curses held immense potential.
His mind raced with scenarios. Blackthorn's moonstone ring held the key to reclaiming both his influence and salvaging his sullied reputation. With the ring securely in his possession, he could strategically deploy it to relieve the suffering witches and wizards, still grappling with the residual curses from the protracted war. On his own terms, naturally, each cured individual brought him a step closer to realising a carefully crafted agenda. The ring stood out as a golden ticket for him to firmly reestablish his foothold within the Ministry and, for the first time in years, Lucius had a tangible goal in front of him, and a renewed sense of purpose.
The realisation triggered a plan within Lucius's calculating mind. As the murmurs of the assembly subdued, the men started to disperse and head out. Meanwhile, Lucius adeptly positioned himself by the door, ready to execute his recently conceived scheme.
"Lucius," acknowledged Mr Yablonski in an officious manner, as he encountered Lucius waiting outside, before moving on. It stung Lucius to be so treated so dismissively, as if his decade-long membership on the Board counted for nothing. Admittedly, their professional relationship had never been seamless, not even during the good old days, where Lucius' opinions were reckoned with.
Mr Yablonski, possessing a formidable backbone, was stubbornly impervious to threats and schemes. Lucius vividly recalled the strenuous efforts required to temporarily oust Dumbledore following the Chamber of Secrets incidents. Ultimately, Yablonski relented, swayed solely by the majority vote of those who proved susceptible to a blend of flattery, blackmail, and bribes.
"Ah, Dominic," Lucius greeted, mirroring the formality. "Gentlemen," he acknowledged as more of his former colleagues streamed into the corridor. The responses varied, spanning from diverted gazes to uneasy nods, and expressions that oscillated between sorrow and pity, the latter even more intolerable to endure than outright disregard. A Malfoy, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight could scarcely tolerate being the object of pity.
Mr Fern's greeting was effusively enthusiastic, his hand clasping Lucius' in an unexpected display of vigour. "Lucius Malfoy, we've heard so little of you. "I'm genuinely pleased to see you haven't retreated into seclusion, despite, um, your challenging circumstances."
Fern, you old fool, thought Lucius internally but out loud:
"Likewise, Hubert, he replied with a tight-lipped smile. "Your sentiments are appreciated. I assure you, I'm doing quite well, thank you. Times are indeed trying but I'm navigating through them just fine."
With a regal gesture, he smoothly retracted his arm, carefully adjusting his assaulted cuffs.
Fern nodded, a glint of amusement dancing in his shrewd eyes, "Of course, Lucius. What's that to a Malfoy, huh? Returning from a meeting?" he asked, gesturing toward the folder cradled under Lucius' arm, which contained the rejected bill.
Maintaining his composed facade, Lucius endured the exchange with displeasure, "Indeed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must attend to a few matters. Good day to you."
Undeterred, Hubert Fern, spoke again, "Things not going as well as you'd like? Well, I have a free afternoon and some fine Dragon Barrel Brandy, if you'd care to talk."
No, thank you, mused Lucius, and quickly excused himself. He'd rather sip Gillywater with a selkie than willingly subject himself to the company of this aggravating man.
As the room gradually emptied and Mr Mallard took his time exiting, Lucius seized the opportune moment to approach him, initiating the conversation, "Sylvester? May I borrow a moment of your time?"
Hesitation manifested in the faint narrowing of Mr Mallard's eyes. Although they once shared a camaraderie, the passage of time, coupled with Lucius' open alignment with Voldemort, had introduced a discernible rift in their personal interactions, Despite this, Mr Mallard acquiesced, "Why, yes Lucius. What's on your mind?"
Lucius, adopting a lower register, broached the subject, "Moonstone ring," eliciting a surprised yelp from Sylvester.
"Lucius, you astonish me! Surely, you don't buy into the fairytale?"
Lucius remained uncertain. Unlike his former Board colleagues, his experience as a Death-Eater had plunged him deeper into the realms of dark and obscure magic, affording him with a far greater insight into the unknown. Moreover, though wouldn't readily admit it, the fact that Hermione Granger, lauded as the brightest witch of her age by her admirers, displayed a keen interest in the object, suggested there might be more substance to the rumour. Even if there was nothing to it after all, just getting in Granger's way was a reward in itself.
"In a more discreet setting, perhaps?" Lucius suggested, just as a smartly-dressed witch glided past them, levitating an impressive stack of files before her, face barely visible from behind the towering paperwork. With deft manoeuvring, she narrowly avoided a collision with Lucius.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir. I didn't see you," the girl muttered apologetically, earning a disapproving glare from Lucius and a fatherly smile from the other wizard.
"You're doing very well, my dear, " he complimented the girl, briefly acknowledging her efforts before redirecting attention to Lucius, "Certainly. How about joining me for lunch? The Wand & Sickle offers a delightful roasted honeyed duck on today's menu."
At that moment, Lucius didn't care for the duck anymore than he did for Fern's Brandy. Yet, he recognised the potential of a friendly chat over a shared meal in facilitating the extraction of the information he sought.
"Shall we settle on a time?" Sylvester suggested. "Does two sound good?"
"Splendid."
A/N
What do you think of Lucius? I'd love to know your thoughts.Thank you so much for reading x
Ah, and the next chapter is on its way. It's mostly written, just needs some editing so it should be up in two days, tops.