"Why not? Her grandfather works there," he scowls, although there's more concentration than freakout in it now; he's scanning her face intently (the implications of 'part of my life' are shelved for more pressing, although not more important concerns, but definitely not forgotten). "Arthur could convince anyone that anyone he associates with must also mean well. And assumes it himself far too often.* And, worse, believes that meaning well means something."
He gives Victoire another look of mingled assessment and deep suspicion (which mostly looks sullen, unfortunately), and makes himself inquire (well, I say inquire; he's still so tense and worked up that it comes out as a Moody-esque bark), "How is his condition being managed?"