Astrid Toujouse
I quietly blew my hot cocoa as nothing was said for a time, and sipped it. Very sweet—if he wasn’t terrifying, I should like to visit his office more often. It really seemed he was messing with my head, making time trickle away...time trickle away...time...time to go...Hogsmeade...Raph! I’d forgotten in my anguish that I’d told him I’d meet him at Hogsmeade! Clothes! I needed those too, and the weight of more money than I’d ever carried at once in my pocket reminded me more brutally. And yet I was here, in an office with a man who was painfully uncanny, mundanely dramatic, and seemingly wholeheartedly set on consuming my time for a few logistic questions. That was, at least, what it seemed, until he commented that magic among muggles was illegal. I knew that, though my understanding was that it was more about muggles actively witnessing magic. I wasn’t going to preform any spells with conscious friends, anyway. The FtM triad of spells was for a sleepover, when they weren’t conscious. Before the Trace disappeared, I’d need to figure out how to explain the sudden change. Or could I make it seem natural, somehow?
And then he mentioned Grindelwald. Was he...comparing me...to Grindelwald? Had he somehow heard my speaking with Raph yesterday? Had my musings been taken as extremism or something?! The Ministry was brutal these days...running afoul of them would make my life as hellish as it was just a short time ago, probably more so.
“I’m familiar with Grindelwald. He was a pure blood supremacist, or at least a precursor, and believed that wizards were innately superior to muggles. He foresaw WWII to some extent, and wanted wizards to take control and rule over muggles in order to prevent it, or so he said. Is that correct?”
