James growled. "That's not how it works. A task force is temporary. The moment he's dead, the task forces disappear, and what would we need them for? Keeping the peace in Diagon Alley. What good am I in the division? Why bother? Why..."
He sat back down, elbows on his knees as he leaned forced. "God- I really fucking hate my father, and it's not even his fault. He hasn't done anything wrong, but I hate him, I hate working for him, I hate people who like him, I hate people he likes."