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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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56 Soft Answers Turn Away Wrath
Monday 20 July
Narcissa Malfoy sat at her breakfast table, drinking her second cup of tea for the morning. Lucius looked up, to be met with a stare that he recognised. A stare that he quailed from. A stare that, from long experience, he knew meant he should get out of Narcissa's reach as soon as practical. Actually, scratch that, it meant it was probably already too late …
"Ah, what's up, dear?" he asked as gently as he could manage. He knew she had received an owl from Draco this morning; had it brought bad news?
She turned to him.
"Someone attacked our boy," she said, her voice as cold as ice.
Lucius racked his brains. Someone had attacked Draco? He hadn't heard of it. Harry, yes; the boy had been out of it for three nights in the Infirmary. And yes, he did feel irate about it. And he also felt awful; he had not protected Harry, and the Debt was screaming at him to do something about it. If someone had attacked Draco as well…
"I know he's been up for the weekend and is out of danger now," his wife continued, "but the fact remains that they have now both been attacked at Hogwarts.
Oh, he thought, as the sickle dropped. No-one had attacked Draco. It was Harry who had been attacked; Harry whom Narcissa was calling 'our boy'.
"Yes they did," he replied, answering her first statement and finding, only as he did so, that it was true – Harry was their boy. The simple thought that his son's fiancé was somehow already part of the family made his heart do some strange flips. "But Robin Banks is on the case."
"Tell me," Narcissa replied, her voice holding the imperious tone of a daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black who had married into the Malfoy family. A tone, in other words, of a woman who got her way.
And Lucius did tell her. He outlined Robin's actions, and both Robin's and his own suspicions, and what had been learnt over the weekend; and about the strength that Harry seemed to be showing.
And when he had finished, to his very great relief, she smiled at him.
"Good," she said, "find the bastard. Meanwhile, Molly and I have a party to plan."
And she got up and left the room, heading for her study.
Lucius sat in his chair, stunned. He had known something was brewing; Narcissa had been edgy for days. But now it was out, and, it seemed, all was sweetness and light again. Thank Merlin for that!
Hang on a minute; what party?

Philip Anofeles sat in his expensive dragon-hide chair in the office of the Head of Department of International Magical Cooperation. An office that was his, damn it; one which he had kept by generally staying out of harm's way. The British Wizarding public tended to be quite as insular about the rest of the Magical world as their Muggle counterparts were about the Muggle world, so his job rather lent itself to hiding away and staying out of the spotlight as much as possible.
And hiding away was rather a speciality of Anofeles. He was the sort of man who everybody wanted in a crisis – wanted, that is, to know exactly where he was, and how far away from them. A distance preferably measured in miles. He had come to the position rather by default; when Barty Crouch Senior was killed, old Tom Tattleby had become head, and picked him as his deputy rather as an insurance policy: Tattleby, who had the measure of the current Head, knew that no-one in their right mind would want Anofeles as Head of anything, so he felt quite safe. It was just rather unfortunate for Old Tom, as everyone called him, that Piers Thicknesse wasn't in his right mind while he was Minister for Magic …
He looked again, with thinly-veiled disgust, at the report on his desk. Attacks at Hogwarts would normally have held no interest for him – he was a bachelor, and had no nieces or nephews of school age; let the brats kill each other, by all means. But, please God, not while there were foreign visitors!
He looked around his office. They were all here: Rosier, Appleby, and that pedantic idiot Pontefract. He turned to his deputy, who was standing quietly in front of his desk.
"What do you think, Rosier? Do we need to do anything?"
"Well, sir," the man replied deferentially, "the matter is in the hands of the Aurors. It would not look good if we waded in and the whole thing turned out to be a unicorn's nest."
"Unicorns don't have nests," Pontefract said softly. Appleby looked daggers at him.
"Just saying," Pontefract said in a hurt tone.
The other men ignored him. It was generally for the best, Rosier had decided long ago.
"But surely if it does blow up, we need to be seen to be involved?" Appleby said.
"Oh well, quite," Rosier said, expertly masking his annoyance at his underling's undermining him. "But I should think a letter to the Chief Auror reminding him of the delicacy of the situation and offering to help however we can should do the trick."
Anofeles beamed. This was exactly the sort of response he liked – especially since he didn't have to do anything. The Aurors would ignore the letter; they always did. Then, if it all blew over, DIMC were being good chaps, and Robards was a rude git; while if it blew up in their faces, they would be seen as having raised the matter and been pooh-poohed. Robards couldn't win this one.
"Very good, Rosier," Anofeles said, pleased. He would even have used his subordinate's first name, if he had remembered what it was. "Write the letter for me and we'll send it out at lunchtime."
Anton Rosier permitted himself a small smile. Intra-departmental politics were rolling along nicely: Appleby had stomped on Pontefract, he had stomped on Appleby, and the Head had given him his approval.
"Thank you, sir," he said, and the three subordinates left the Head's office. Of course, Rosier thought as they left, he now had to write a sodding letter.
His smile broadened as he realised that he didn't, really.
"Appleby?" he said, as they walked into the outer office. "I have a small job for you …"

Monday's lessons went by at a very brisk pace. Hermione was delighted when it was announced that the lesson would cover tracking charms; she had, of course, done a huge amount of reading and had memorised all the spellwork and characteristics of the three main tracking charms in common use.
So when Flitwick asked if anyone could name a charm, of course her hand went up; though somewhat to her chagrin, Harry and Draco both beat her to it.
"Mr Potter?" Flitwick asked, as the raven-haired lad had his hand up first.
"Oh, ladies before gentlemen," Harry said, pointing to Hermione.
Hermione gave a slight smile of appreciation, and launched into a monologue of the characteristics of the 'Point me' charm. She was about to move onto the 'Sequere me' charm when Flitwick gently interrupted her and suggested they might like to hear from someone else.
Eva Thillin had her hand up next, and so she began a brief explanation of this charm, which was used to track known criminals, by placing it on them while they were in custody.
"Bet the Muggles wish they had something like that," Dean said.
"Actually, they do," Ron replied. He had been researching police methods and had only just come across ankle monitors in his reading, so the subject was quite fresh in his mind. "They have special bracelets they make the criminals wear that report on their location by radio signals."
"Ingenious," Flitwick said. "But I fear we have interrupted Miss Thillin?"
Eva giggled nervously and said that she had probably finished anyway. Hermione itched to say more, but again she was passed over, as Flitwick asked Anders Anderssen if he wanted to add anything.
Anderssen, who was the Durmstrang Institute's charms whiz-kid, proceeded to explain how the charm was cast, and what the limitations on it were; chiefly that it needed to be cast quite powerfully as there was a counter-charm that removed it completely.
"Thank you, Mr Anderssen," Flitwick said when he had finished his explanation, and made no attempt to start discussing anything else. The tiny professor was not surprised by that; Mr Anderssen struck him as a very competent, but rather shy, student. The sort of shy you had to watch as a teacher because the student could sail through a class without learning a thing, or pick everything up and turn out to be brilliant, and it was hard to know which was which. But he didn't have many issues with Mr Anderssen's knowledge, just with getting him to talk. It drove Filius wild; in his Ravenclaw mind, people who knew had a duty to share with people who did not.
"Any more?" he asked mechanically as these thoughts were going through his head.
Draco put up his hand and explained the last of the three usual charms: the Invenies charm, used to find someone who was missing. He gave a concise, cogent but quite full account of the charm, its casting, the need for some knowledge or personal item of the person being sought, and the fact that the charm was best at short range; it might find someone you knew well if they were in the same room, or someone you knew intimately inside the castle, but was unlikely to locate them if they were in Hogsmeade.
"Thank you," said Flitwick. He was amazed at the knowledge displayed; as he looked round, he had seen that about half the class already knew much of what had been said, and the rest had taken copious notes. Good. It looked like the material he took four weeks to cover with the seventh years might be over in one for the eighth years. "Does anyone know any other charms?"
Only Harry put up his hand this time.
"Yes, Mr Potter?" the Professor asked.
"There are four other charms that might loosely be called tracking charms," Harry began, and gave a run-down of the four other charms. Hermione listened for a minute in complete shock, then came to herself and started scribbling notes madly. Harry seemed to have done research that no-one else had found; some of what he said was news even to Flitwick, judging by the look on his face.
Flitwick then summarised the seven charms on the blackboard and then invited the student who had discussed each charm to demonstrate its casting; then the whole class were encouraged to have a go with the three simplest charms. They found the Invenies charm the most fun; people would take turns to go out of the classroom while a friend of theirs would hide – either physically or under a Disillusionment Charm – and they would have to find him or her.
By the time class finished, there was quite a buzz of happy students; and even the Professor was happy. They had finished Tracking Charms three weeks early; at this rate his private hope that he would run out of material by the end of September looked like it would come to pass. If the other teachers could get similar results, and so far this looked a distinct possibility, they might even get the exams in before Christmas, a possibility he had discussed with the Deputy Minister. Arthur had pushed for the idea; this would give Hogwarts a graduating class a mere six months late, rather than the currently anticipated eight; and it made for clear six-month gap between the eighth years and seventh years, which would help the Ministry's planning and take-up of graduates no end.
Meanwhile, his students had all filed out, except for Draco and Harry, who stood quietly by the door.
"Did you feel it?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Draco replied. "Should we tell Robin?"
"Definitely," Harry replied. "Should I come with you to Arithmancy?"
"I don't think so," Draco said. "We've discussed it, remember? You go and talk to Robin, I'll go to Arithmancy, and if anything happens, we've got them."
Harry wasn't too sure. The wards had moved during the class, they had both felt it, and that probably meant their unknown adversary was about to strike again; Harry didn't want to use Draco as bait, no matter how much the blond said he was happy with it. But the matter was out of his hands; Draco had already gone to class. Well then, there was nothing for it but to find Robin and make sure they were ready if anything did happen.
"Mr Potter?" a voice said, haltingly.
He turned to the speaker; it was Anders Anderssen.
"Ah, may I have a word?"

The Arithmancy class was as silent as the Charms class had been chatty: Professor Vector had them performing advanced calculations from the moment they entered the room. She was an old hand at this; she wanted some time to think for herself so had set them a problem that would normally take a seventh year class weeks to complete.
Miss Granger was the first to put down her pen. Sinistra Vector performed a quick Tempus and was astonished to find that less than an hour had elapsed. The girl couldn't have done it in the time!
She walked over to Hermione's desk and glanced over her work. Professor Vector had an amazing gift, excellent for an Arithmancer and even better for an Arithmancy teacher: errors in calculation practically leapt off the page at her, they were so obvious. But the page in front of her stayed stubbornly still; and when she checked the last few lines, it looked perfect.
By this time, Draco Malfoy and a couple of the Beauxbatons girls had also finished. She checked Mr Malfoy's work – it was also perfect. One of the Beauxbatons girls had made a trifling error, which she pointed out immediately, but the girl – Vector hadn't got her name down yet, the different uniform rather threw her – enlisted the help of their chaperone, who, to the great annoyance of all the Professors, was insisting on attending all their classes at the moment. Madame Dubois was able to find and fix the problem within a few seconds.
"Well, class," she said ten minutes later, when it appeared that everyone had finished, "I must say that when Filius Flitwick told me he hoped to finish teaching in January, I thought he was mad. But it seems that you are determined to prove me spectacularly wrong. That calculation should have taken you at least two weeks, but you have finished it inside one lesson. Can anyone tell me what the results mean?"
And the class, rather shocked for the invitation to speak – for Arithmancy generally involved calculations and methods and consulting tables much more than any qualitative work – began to stutter out their thoughts.
It took a little while; but soon there was a fluid banter going and Sinistra was rather pleased that they had grasped the point of the calculation almost immediately. Perhaps this year was going to be more interesting than usual; after the Carrows, students who could actually think about something other than staying out of sight, and actually participated in lessons, would be a welcome change.
And then, just as these pleasant thoughts were forming in the Professor's head, it happened. It was very quick – a small flash of blue light, followed by "Protego Maxima" yelled in a boy's voice as the room filled with smoke.
Professor Vector started to cast a dispersing spell to get rid of the smoke, but it seemed that Miss Granger had beaten her to it. The room cleared of smoke; but there were still two patches of bright light in the room that had most students shielding their eyes.
In front of her was a most unexpected sight. The blueish white light of the Protego seemed to be streaming around someone, but it was mixed with hints of other colours – silver and red were clear; but when she looked closely there was also a thin hint of emerald-green to be seen. At the other end of the classroom there was another patch of light – the bright, transparent blue of a simple Protego charm, with brown and orange accents this time.
As the students gasped and gaped, the light started to fade. From inside the Protego Maxima shield, the form of Draco Malfoy could now be seen clearly; from inside the other, Vector could see two of the Beauxbatons girls.
"What is the meaning of this?" Vector said quickly, panting as she tried to get her breath under control after the shock of the most exciting moment she'd seen in a classroom for ten years.
"I'm sure we'd all like to know that," said another voice, as the Headmistress appeared, flanked by Auror Banks and the Durmstrang chaperone. But before anyone could say anything, a thatch of black hair flashed into the room and its owner flung itself around Draco.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked, his face a picture of worry. "I was chatting with Auror Banks and the Headmistress in the Great Hall and felt the Shield activate!"
Draco smiled at him. "Perfectly all right," he replied quietly. "It seems your intuition was quite correct."
"What is this outrage?" Madame Dubois began, as she had just spotted Marie Thibault and Eva Thillin surrounded by the blue light. "Why are my students cut off like this?"
Ron spoke up. "There was an explosion of some sort around Draco, and I saw these two get caught up in the back draft, so I threw up a Protego around them."
"I saw the same thing, and joined in with Ron's spell," Hermione added. "I hope it's all right that we acted to protect your students, Madame?" she finished, a sweet – but entirely false – smile on her face.
Dubois looked around. "Yes, well. I hope this will all be explained most carefully."
"I shall make sure of that, Madame," a male voice said, a quiet voice with a deal of authority around it. "To begin with, I should like to have a word with Mr Malfoy and the two young ladies, in private, if I may."
And with that, he led the three students mentioned out of the room. And if Harry followed Draco, and Danielle Thibault followed her sister; everyone else was too shocked to say anything about it.
"Well," Professor Vector said, "I suppose we must consider today's class finished."

Naturally the talk at lunch was about nothing but the events of the Arithmancy class. Draco and the two girls had returned from being interrogated by Auror Banks, who had roped in the Headmistress and Professor Flitwick as impartial witnesses – a move which had riled up Madame Dubois; but as the Auror gently pointed out, she could not be considered as an impartial witness to his questioning as she was a witness to the events themselves.
Draco assured everyone that the Auror had treated the three of them very gently. After patient questioning the picture emerged: Draco had felt a warning from the protective ward that Harry and he had set up together, and instantly cast the Protego Maxima. As it sprang out, he felt the Haussmann shield react to it as well, and could see the four different colours swirling together to make the very strong shield that had surrounded him. Some object – no doubt another fake galleon, Banks thought; he had unobtrusively pocketed a small mound of shreds of melted metal from the classroom – hit the shield, and fell to pieces against it; at the same time, the Haussmann shield had lashed back to expel away the Dark magic that the object had contained. This had hit the shield created by Miss Granger and Mr Weasley, a shield which had surrounded the two girls who seemed to be in danger from the back-spell.
Madame Dubois had listened to this recitation with a stony face; her own girls assured her that the Auror had made it clear that he understood they were all in shock, and that the events did not constitute any form of evidence against them. There was at present no charge being levied at any one.
"I see," she said, and left the luncheon table to seek out the Headmistress and Auror Barnes.
Angelique Delacour leaned across the table as Dubois left. "I'd keep out of her way," she said softly. "When she looks that angry, she wants someone's head."
The other Beauxbatons girls agreed, with a shudder. Evidently Madame's temper was something to be very wary of.

The Potions lesson was a complete anticlimax: the whole class worked on the Expositor Falsitas potion, and Harry and Draco managed to still be about three weeks ahead of everyone else. Halfway through the lesson, Harry decided to share one of Professor Snape's tips, one that, in his arch way, he had marked as being 'likely to be comprehensible even by Horace Slughorn': by adding a small portion – one or two flakes – of powdered boomslang scales, they were able to cut out two hours of boiling.
Naturally, Professor Slughorn asked why this would work, and Draco explained that the scales would make the potion sufficiently stable that they could add the powdered moonstone more or less straight after the armadillo bile, without needing to leave time for the bile to be incorporated into the mixture. As it happened, Snape was right: Slughorn thought about this for a few seconds, muttered to himself something about the underlying heather tincture's effects, and finally said "brilliant!"
Borage did not attend every potions class; but he was at this one, and he watched this exchange very carefully before nonchalantly walking over to Harry and Draco's bench.
"There's more to your newfound brilliance with potions than meets the eye, isn't there, Mr Potter?" he said to Harry, very quietly.
"Er, yes, sir," Harry replied. "Um, we found some extra notes left by Professor Snape that suggested the boomslang scales."
"I see," Borage remarked, his face impassive. "And did they say anything else?"
"Well, one or two things that helped us get ahead. Um, you're not angry are you sir?" Harry asked, distinctly aware that this was the man Draco hoped to be apprenticed to, and it would not do to get on the wrong side of him.
Borage smiled, actually smiled, at him.
"Not in the slightest, Mr Potter," he replied. "Part of being a good student is recognising a good teacher when you find one, and taking his advice to heart. Severus Snape and I had our disagreements – sometimes spectacular – but he was a brilliant potion maker. I see no reason why you should not follow good advice when you find it, nor why you should feel guilty for doing so."
Here he turned to Draco. "I do hope, though," he said, continuing to speak without pause, "that you will be able to explain the reasoning behind these short-cuts and additions, Mr Malfoy, to the standard of exposition that you provided this afternoon."
Draco looked stunned. "Um, thank you sir, I think," he said, not quite sure whether he was being complimented or scolded.
"Well done, Mr Malfoy," Borage replied; removing the lingering doubt from Draco as his chest swelled in pride at the words of praise.
Across the class, a pair of brown eyes had been watching with interest ever since Borage approached Harry and Draco' bench. The eyes narrowed as Draco's chest puffed up. Just exactly what had the man said? Were Harry and Draco being given special treatment? Favouritism? How was that even fair?

After dinner, Hermione was convinced of the favouritism: she was studying in the library with most of their group, but Harry and Draco were nowhere to be found. When she asked about this, Ron told her that they had gone to the Manor.
"What?" the witch had yelled. "But – it's a school night! How can they be allowed out!"
It was just Hermione's luck that Professor McGonagall entered the library at this point; she had offered to give some help to the Thibault sisters, who were rather struggling with Transfiguration.
"Miss Granger!" the Headmistress said sharply. "Mr Malfoy was concerned that his mother learn of the attack as soon as possible, and from him personally."
"Oh," said Hermione, rather abashed. When put like that, she could quite see that he had to go.
"In the circumstances, I could hardly refuse," the Headmistress continued. Her face softened as she continued, "but then, you are all adults. If you wish to go out and visit your parents, and you ensure that you return at a reasonable hour, I see no problem with that."
"Oh!" Hermione said, much brighter. "May I?"
"Of course," the Headmistress replied tartly. "I just said so. Would you like to accompany Miss Granger, Mr Weasley?"
And so it was that twenty minutes later they tumbled through the Floo together. Miriam, freshly bathed, saw them at once and squealed with delight. Hermione got to spend a very pleasant two hours visiting her family; and if Ron was at all bored by the event, he wisely chose to say nothing about it.
Tuesday 21 July
Lucius Malfoy eyed his wife very carefully.
This time, there had been no delay, and she had seemed quite calm and collected during Draco's visit last night. But he had been married to her for a score of years and knew better than to trust appearances.
But she seemed relaxed this morning, and was idly reading the Daily Prophet.
"I don't know why you read that rag," he said.
She fixed him with a stare; but he breathed easily as he saw it was not the death stare of the previous day.
And then she smiled sweetly at him, and all his instincts shouted at him that this was a Very Bad Sign Indeed.
"Well dear," she said, her voice oozing the same sweetness as her smile, "if people tell me what's going on, I won't have to, will I?"
And she went back to her paper.
Lucius said nothing. He had learnt some wisdom in twenty years of marriage.

"I wish to register a complaint!" the voice rang out.
Philip Anofeles came out of his office like a shot. He knew that voice; it was the voice of the Beauxbatons deputy Headmistress. He had met the woman at several soirées in Paris, and knew that she was not someone whose wrong side he ever wished to see again.
"Madame Dubois!" he said obsequiously as he came into the reception area of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "Please, come into my office and tell me how we can be of service."
"Oh," she said sniffily. "It's you. Well, I suppose we must make do."
They entered his office and he offered her coffee, which she refused.
"I am not 'ere for pleazantries," she said, and even though there was anger in her voice, it was still the sexiest thing the man had heard for months. "There have been events at 'Ogwarts. I 'ad 'eard reports about attacks on students before we came, but I did not believe zem. Zen we arrived, and zere was an attack on Mr Pottair. Still I 'eld my tongue. If British people wish to attack British students, that is zeir affair.
"But yesterday! My own students were at risk! Zey were in ze way of dark spells! Zere were shields, and unpleazantness. I WILL NOT 'AVE EET!" she finished, yelling. "You will do somezing about it! Today!"
"Um, yes, well, err," the department head began, then pulled himself together. "I mean, of course, I take your comments with the greatest possible seriousness Madame, I assure you. Naturally, dealing with the issues in situ, so to speak, is the job of our Auror Department, but…"
He didn't get any further.
"You will not fob me off to someone else!" the Frenchwoman said belligerently. "You will take my complaint, and you will act on eet. Do I make myself understood?"
"Yes, ma'am, crystal clear," the head said, mopping his brow; he was now perspiring freely and his 'guest' was quite certain it was from fear; at which she permitted herself a small smirk. "I shall take this up with the Minister … myself …" and then, as she looked at him, clearly expecting more, " … today! Yes, of course, we shall make sure that your concerns are heard in the highest councils of the Ministry. I shall demand a full report;" and then, frightened as she opened her mouth, he spoke louder, "and action! Today!"
"I zink you should look into this Auror who iz handling the case .. A Monsieur Banks. I zink maybe he is a leetle bit young for ze job. And 'e made my students feel … uncomfortable. Iz 'e not a bit 'eavy-'anded, do you think?"
"Yes, of course, dear lady," the department head said, calming down a bit. Without knowing it, she had thrown him a lifeline: someone else to blame. "I assure you that the matter will be dealt with with the utmost urgency and expediency. Now please, do not let me detain you any further. You are very kind to allow me so much of your time, but I would not dream of keeping you from your duties at Hogwarts."
As he said this he had risen, and gently steered Madame Dubois to the door; so that as he finished, they were standing at a Floo point, from which she returned to Hogwarts.
The department head returned to his office, closed the door, and poured himself a stiff firewhiskey, which he threw back at a gulp.
There was a knock at the door, and Rosier, who had timed his entry to the second, came in.
"The Minister has agreed to see you and Robards at eleven o'clock," he said without preamble.
Anofeles looked at him like a deer caught in headlights.
"What? Oh God," he said. He would have accused his deputy head of listening in on private conversations (and he would have been entirely correct in doing so); but Madame Dubois had not taken any pains to be quiet, so no doubt half the god-damned Ministry knew about the interview by now.
"I could go in your place, if you wish," Rosier suggested.
It was tempting; but no. It would show weakness; it would be deadly if Dubois ever got hold of it. On the other hand, if they both went, it would show that they took this very seriously. And Rosier could do most of the talking. Yes, that would do.
"We'll both go. Square it with the Minister, would you?"
Rosier, who had expected exactly this outcome, smirked inwardly, but kept his face impassive. "Very good, sir," he said, and left the head to the rest of his bottle of firewhiskey.

The meeting turned out to be even more of a disaster for Anofeles than he had imagined.
To begin with, Chief Auror Robards took issue with him even before they had exchanged greetings.
"What do you mean by this blasted letter?" he thundered at Anofeles.
The Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation blinked. He had come here to attack, not to be attacked. His deputy sat beside him with an impassive face; but he knew exactly what Robards was upset with, even if his boss did not. That will teach him to sign letters without reading them carefully first, he thought. Or perhaps it wouldn't; this meeting could well be the last one Philip Anofeles ever attended as department head.
"Don't just blink at me, you imbecile!" the Chief Auror snarled. "Trying to tell me how to do my job! And what the hell does your department know about what makes a good Auror, anyway? Robin Banks has my support, the support of all his Auror teammates, and is well-liked by the student body into the bargain. I will not have you tell me that his age and his manner which you say is –" here he consulted the letter, which of course he had brought with him – "'overly gentle and respectful and not calculated to inspire confidence in the Auror presence at Hogwarts'. None of your damn business."
"I'm afraid, Gawain, that it is, a little," Arthur Weasley, invited along as he was handling most Hogwarts matters, interjected. "But perhaps we should hear from Philip? He did ask for the meeting, after all."
Anofeles, who had definitely not asked for the meeting, as Rosier had wished it on him, and who also did not want it, blinked again.
"Well," he began, "the matter is, as you say Deputy Minister, germane to the matter that I need to bring to your attention. I had a visit today from an old and dear friend of mine, Madame Dubois, who, as I am sure you are well aware, is Deputy Headmistress at the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and currently residing at Hogwarts as chaperone to the party of girls visiting us from that fine institution of learning…"
"Get to the point," Robards growled.
"Yes, well, um," the head of the DIMC blustered. "Well, she complained. She said that her students had been attacked at Hogwarts; that our Aurors didn't seem to be doing anything about the attacks; and she thought that your Mr Banks was being 'heavy-handed'."
Robards glowered at him, but when he spoke, his voice was low, and tightly controlled.
"So, apart from young and personable, two attributes generally seen as positive, you have now accused Mr Banks of being overly gentle and heavy-handed. You can't have both. Which is he?"
Anofeles opened his mouth and shut it again, in an excellent impression (if he but knew it) of a goldfish. Rosier butted in smoothly.
"He does have a point, sir. I do think that perhaps tempers are a little frayed at the perceived lack of action on the one hand and some possibly over-enthusiastic questioning on the other?"
Robards glowered at him in turn, but decided it wasn't worth trying to chew him out. "I very much doubt the latter. I'd like to see the interrogation if the boot was on the other foot and the French wizarding authorities were investigating foreign students at Beauxbatons…"
"Quite," Kingsley butted in, the first time the Minister had yet spoken. "I don't see that this meeting can go any further without Mr Banks' presence. Can we get him here?"
"Of course, Minister," Robards said. "He's waiting in my office; I told him to come in to the office in case he was needed." He left the room for two minutes, returning with Robin Banks behind him. Banks stood up next to his boss.
"Good morning, Minister, gentlemen," he said pleasantly. "How can I help you?"
Rosier studied the young man carefully. He had not met him previously; but years of sizing people up in an instant told him that Robin Banks was no pushover. Up till that moment, he had been vacillating; someone would have to be thrown to the werewolves, that was obvious, but he had not decided whether he wanted it to be Banks or Anofeles. Now he made up his mind; getting rid of this man would be very difficult, for rather small reward; Anofeles was a whole different proposition. It was quite clear from the Minister's body-language so far during the meeting that he couldn't stand the pompous wind-bag; he just had to work on that a little, and the reward would be huge: as Head of the Department he would have much more freedom and power.
He realised that he had tuned out a little, which shocked him; he needed to keep on top of this meeting. But evidently, they had asked Banks about what he'd been up to, and he had set up a Pensieve viewer showing the interrogation of the three students. The viewer projected an image onto a screen – Weasley said it was just like some Muggle device called a 'sinemar' or some such word. He would say that, Rosier thought, snorting to himself.
They watched the scene; it was clear that 'heavy-handed' was, quite simply, a fiction. The man had handled all three students carefully and gently, made it clear exactly what he was asking and why. It was the perfect example of a text-book interview.
"Well there you are, you see," Anofeles said. "We can't have Aurors telling suspects what it's all about! Puts the wind up them!"
Robin looked at him; he knew a fool when he saw one. "With the greatest respect, sir, 'suspects' is a little strong. No charges have been laid as yet; the interview was to establish what happened, which I'm now able to say I have a strong idea about. My colleagues and I have decided on an appropriate action plan, which is being implemented as we speak."
"And what exactly is that plan?" Anofeles demanded.
"I'm sorry, sir," Banks replied, "but I'm not able to discuss sensitive operational details."
Anofeles all but jumped out of his seat at this. "Sensitive operational details?" he squawked. "I see. You're going to fob me off and tell me it's all under control."
"It is all under control, you blithering idiot," Robards growled, and for the first time it seemed to penetrate Anofeles' skull that perhaps no-one in the room (excepting Rosier, who was his deputy and had to be) was actually on his side. He began to sweat again, and wiped his brow as Robards picked up a folder in front of him, the report from Auror Banks that he had received that morning, and continued.
"There was an attack on Draco Malfoy yesterday. The attack failed because Mr Malfoy is adept at shields. The attack rebounded and two Beauxbatons students would have been caught in dark magic but for the prompt action of two Hogwarts students who shielded the Beauxbatons girls perfectly adequately. Based on evidence from this and previous attacks, the possible perpetrators have been narrowed down to just two; both of these persons are being shadowed in the normal Auror way. We can't just arrest people on suspicion, so we need to wait for another move; but in the meantime, the safety of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons students is as certain as we can reasonably hope to provide."
"I see," said Anofeles, his voice tight and his anger barely concealed. "And may we know who these suspects are, or at least whether either or both of them are from Beauxbatons or the Durmstrang Institute?"
"You may not," Robards replied.
Anofeles did not get to reply; the Minister cut in straight away. "I think, Philip, that you are getting a little too close to this matter. As you say, Madame Dubois is an old and dear friend of yours. I think perhaps you need a little time off to consider things."
"Um—" Anofeles began.
"Yes," the Minister continued, ignoring him, "hand over everything to Mr Rosier and take two weeks leave, effective immediately. Gentlemen," he said, turning to the Aurors, "you seem to be handling this as well as anyone could have hoped; please continue. You have my full support, on these and other matters."
Turning to Rosier, he continued, "please draft an appropriate response to Madame Dubois and run it past Arthur."
He looked round the whole meeting. "Thank you gentlemen," he said, rising to leave the room.
"Thank you, Minister," they replied.
It was only as he left the room that Anton Rosier wondered exactly what "other matters" the Minister meant …

It was a very relieved Robin Banks who introduced their guest speaker for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class that afternoon.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to welcome into our midst someone with a great deal of practical experience with dark magic, particularly in the realm of curse-breaking. Mr William Weasley has been working for Gringotts Bank as a curse-breaker for some years now and has agreed to talk us through the practical aspects of his job."
"Thanks," Bill began.
"Oh, Mr Weasley!" Danielle Thibault gushed. "So cute!"
"And taken," Gabrielle Delacour said drily.
"Thanks sis," Bill said, laughing. "And thanks to you for the compliment; but as Gabrielle says, I am married, and to her sister. And please, call me Bill."
The lesson continued on in a happy style, and three hours passed in a flash. Bill produced memory-projections of some example expeditions that the goblins had given permission for him to do so, outlining the pitfalls he had encountered and the magic required.
Hermione, who had expected to be bored and learn nothing – Bill was, after all, Ron's brother, and she thought she knew all about him – found that she had taken so many notes she had nearly run out of parchment. It was just so interesting! All the different spells he knew, and the novel ways in which he used them, and the different kinds of recognition spells, gave her a lot of material she hadn't known, or hadn't seen that way before. It was quite an eye-opener for the whole class.
They all applauded when Bill finally finished, and Seamus declared it was the "best DADA lesson ever – no offence, Professor Banks."
"None taken," Robin replied, with a twinkle in his eye. "I rather agree with you!"
After class, Draco arrived to find Harry chatting with Bill and Ron, with Hermione naturally hanging on. The Durmstrang chaperone, who had sat in on the class, came up to them.
"Mr Weasley," Smetana said, "thank you, a most invigorating exposition."
"Thanks," Bill replied. "And please call me Bill, Mr …"
"Ivan, please," the other replied. "Ivan Smetana. Tell me, you have mostly been in Egypt, yes?" Bill nodded. "Very good. I believe they worship the sun – was there any ritual, perhaps, about the solstice? It must be important, yes?"
Bill suddenly got the strangest feeling that this was not a random question – the man knew something about the ritual he had performed in June. But how could he? Bill hadn't told anyone, and he doubted that Karkaroff would have; the man was known to be secretive to the point of lunacy.
"Yes," he replied slowly. "But, you understand, my employers might not like me to discuss it."
"Oh," Smetana replied. "Would it have been a death ritual? They are something of a speciality of mine."
Bill looked at him closely, and dropped his voice. "Just what exactly do you know?" he asked, so quietly that no-one but Smetana heard him.
"I know that you should show Harry the map," the other replied, just as quietly. Then he raised his voice. "But I must not bore you with my own, ah, what do you say, hobby-horse? No. Thank you for a most interesting lecture."
And he shook Bill's hand and left the room.
"Must be about dinner time, is it Ron?" Bill asked his brother.
"Yep," Ron replied, surprised that they had been chatting long enough to cover the break between class and the evening meal.
"Well, lead on then!" his brother twitted him. "I was promised a dinner for this little talk!"
The others laughed as they left the room; but Bill took Harry aside just as the two of them reached the door.
"I want to talk to you privately after dinner," he said, quietly. "What that Smetana fellow said might be rather important…"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have set up a thread for replies at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ . Please indicate which chapter you are reading, as aff doesn't make that clear. I will generally try to reply to posts before posting a new chapter.
The story is betaed by the wonderful BickyMonster, http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296919762, with assistance from ruth_lity. The remaining errors are all my own!
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Returning to Sanity