"There's something you want to ask him?" he inquires.
"If so," he returns, thinking he understands him, "it's not what he told--well, anyone, and presumably not himself, either. Having a Muggle parent outraged him, and it was worse when he found out it was his father. If it had been his mother, you see, well, she'd already been defeated by her own weakness."
With a shrug, "About what you'd expect. Charmed sweets and toys and so on. One or two items that were only nearly as much trouble as they were worth in the war; invisibility hats and the like." His nose wrinkles slightly at the memory of the trouble that had nearly caused, and the miserable, thankless, bloody job he'd had preventing it.
"You can't ban love potions as a class," he says sourly. "Not effectively. How can you? You can make a love potion with water and a strip of apple peel."
"Don't accept someone else allowing their attention to waver as a reason to be sacked," he says irritably. "Some would take you up on it out of sheer relief at finding someone else to blame. The potion can be salvaged; keep on with the seeds. Herne's Blanket, incidentally, is less flexible, when we get to it."