"Your grandfather's marriage was just like mine. Time proved that secret right." Owen tapped his fingers on the table. "Albert, apologize to me. "
"What?" Albert looked blank. "Why should I apologize?"
"Don't argue." Owen's face was stern. "Apologize to me."
"I'm sorry, Father." Albert obeyed, but he still could not help asking, "But why?"
"A husband and wife are like tongue and teeth. They're bound to bump into each other. What couple in this world doesn't quarrel... But before you rebut your wife..." Owen pressed both hands downward, bringing out the persuasive force of the Minister of Magic. "Before that, don't rush... Take a step back first and ask yourself two questions—do you want to win the argument, or do you want to be happy?"
"My father once taught me something similar..." Mr. Delacour was already nodding in agreement. "My father-in-law... Apolline's father clearly did not understand this art deeply enough... You may already have heard Fleur mention it. Apolline's mother would sometimes be angered until she lost control and transformed into a terrifying birdlike form, her head turning into that of a bird with a sharp, large beak, and a pair of scale-covered wings growing from her shoulders... Then my mother-in-law would charge at my father-in-law like a fireball... and then throw real fireballs at him..."
Albert swallowed silently, glanced at Mr. Delacour, who had begun holding his glass to one side and taking sip after sip of wine, and looked at Allen with lingering fear. "Allen... maybe we should slow down on Fleur becoming an Animagus?"
Lenn, who had been taking notes seriously, responded eagerly like a good student answering a professor's question in class. "But don't you have to win a debate to be happy? If I win then, wouldn't I have persuaded the other person?"