"A deer is not a person," is all he says, because too much more on this subject and he's going to start getting flashbacks to that werewolf girl's skullcap again. Skullcup. Whatever. Arrgh, here it comes... "The Headmaster's wasn't living in London at the time, I believe, but my understanding is that the incidents made a great change in the zeitgeist of the nation, which he would not have failed to understand, if only in retrospect." He pauses, thinking of how Albus had never managed to fire Binns. "Probably." Pauses again. "While I haven't studied the deaths in any depth since I was..." How long? He was still reading up on that category of history while working for Belby, still studying the methods of both sides of the law... "...Nineteen, I think, and I admit that subsequent events quite jumbled the details, I do recall being under the impression that the taunting and evading of the chase had been at least as well planned as the crimes themselves." Not that he thinks this will make Holmes feel better, but certainly better than if the chase hadn't been planned for.
"In any event, there are degrees of failure, and any concerted attempt at saving a person renders the failure less than utter, for at least they did not die unchampioned." Charity's eyes only tearing from his as the fangs sank into her flesh, even then not quite believing. He shrugs wearily, the skin around his eyes tightening. "I could rant a bit myself, but there probably isn't a single time of year without a sickening anniversary in it. It's no matter."
"No, she's not here yet. Her portkey will activate in..." he glances at the clock, "six minutes, more or less." Eyes falling back into the wreck of a room, he slides Holmes a mischievous glance. "You've made a fair start, but if you want to really scandalize her, offer food."