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| The insistence of Headmaster after Headmistress after Headmaster on offering mandatory Careers Advice to every fifth year, year after year, was very possibly an exercise in advanced administrative sadism, Minerva suspected. This was not to say that she didn't understand the value of such a meeting, particularly in choosing one's NEWT courses. However, it was difficult to maintain a detached, professorly air when the increased need for Order activity had seen Minerva with less and less time and thus less and less sleep, and, furthermore, she had a lurking suspicion that Potter and Black would resoundingly fail to take this seriously. She had, to her credit, warded her office against Dunbombs for the occasion — any Gryffindor who entered with one on their person would find themselves suddenly suspended in mid-air, in her doorway — but still, it had only been two years since CJ Costantin had spent the entirety of his Careers Advice flirting with her, and she wasn't quite ready to find out what Potter had prepared yet. She strongly suspected she would not be prepared for several years. |
| The Dark Lord was not pleased, though he knew he could have been. (Should have been...?) Malfoy was making an excellent puppet of a Minister. Too proud by far, he knew, but as yet, not so proud that he warranted an Imperius. No, all that Voldemort had needed to do was spend an evening having a little chat with Septimus — illustrating to him, vividly, what would happen should Septimus decide to forget who had put him in his precious seat — to ensure the man's complete obedience. In only a week, the MPA would go into effect, and his Death Eaters could give Britain a true taste of what lay ahead. Bellatrix, he knew, was already preparing his next generation, and his most recent visit to Fenrir Greyback and his pack had been most profitable. There was much to be happy about, and yet, he was not. He waited in silence, in a graveyard in Kent, as his Death Eaters appeared around him, one by one. Every month, the ranks of his marked followers swelled, their unmarked brethren more so. There was much to be happy about, and yet, he was not. "My Death Eaters," he said, his voice already strained with something otherworldly, the mark of the several Horcruxes he'd already created. "We are together once more." |
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