Dumbledore removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
His head hurt a little.
Snape still refused to let him off, sneering, "But you may have made a mistake. That child is far colder than you imagine—don't tell me you really think the deaths of those two werewolves that sparked the werewolf march were the work of English wizards!"
"Outsiders may not understand Vaughn, but you and I both know that the deaths of those two werewolves—the spark that set everything off—must have had something to do with Vaughn. Esteemed White Lord, why is it that you, who always put on such a righteous face and repeatedly forced me to cross my bottom line, turn a blind eye to what he does?"
Dumbledore answered with silence.
Only after a long while did he say, "That is our understanding. I relaxed my restrictions on him in exchange for Vaughn's help with the entanglement of Harry and Tom's destinies."
Snape frowned, not quite understanding. "What does that mean?"
"I cannot tell you for now."
"You—" Snape realized that he truly hated people who spoke in riddles.
Faced with his rising anger once more, Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm not telling you because I haven't fully thought it through myself. You only need to know that Vaughn's and WAC's existence will be very helpful to Harry's future. For Harry's sake, I must tolerate him!"
Snape fell silent.
Though his face remained stern and his gaze cold and sharp as a blade, the previously tense atmosphere did ease considerably.
At that moment, Fawkes, who had been perched on the stand atop the desk with his head buried in sleep while the two argued, suddenly burst into flames.
Startled awake, Fawkes beat his wings and vanished amid a fierce bloom of fire.
Before