InsaneJournal

Quoft had not sat idly by twiddling his thumbs and commenting on the weather when the returned dead had first been placed back in the school. He didn't like the idea, he thought it would lead to trouble, and he had been right. They'd put the Death Eater kid back in Slytherin pretty as one would please without nary a thought to what sort of precedents they might be setting.

He'd made a fuss. It was his job. He took "caretaker" to extremes when the need was there and thought himself more of a sentinel.

Quoft had been assured that precautions were in place, that the boy had changed/would change/was never that bad to begin with and had aided in Voldemort's downfall.

Fine. They were all batshit insane, but Quoft could deal with a young Death Eater as well as any other professor could if the time came.

But this? This.

Quoft was ready to raise Hell and brimstone and all be damned who stood in his way.

Which led him to where the Dumbledores were staying.

Quoft's expression twitched as he attempted to begin this meeting with something less than a scowl. If anything, the scowl only deepened.

Giving up on that, Quoft stood a little straighter and knocked thrice on the portrait.