Earlier that week, Hermione had arranged with Lezard to meet in her office to discuss her upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts class. And, in fact, she did have a pile of notes on her desk. But at the appointed time, she was distracted by one of Amaranth's invitations to the impromptu Turlough-Hagrid wedding shower. She was pacing her office,
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He smoothed the paper further, then -- tiring of the care it required -- straightened it to pristine and uncreased condition with a zap of purple light before setting it gently on the desk. "I expect you were prepared, before you learned of this. I rather think it would be difficult to extricate Sir Hagrid from this marriage. If there is something I can do to cheer him, I would happily oblige, but even my sorceries do not avail against the Sorting Hat." Had Amaranth specified the Hat's connivance in her invitation? "I knew of this marriage before the invitation, as Amaranth knew of it, since the Hat compelled my attendance. Turlough is an acquaintance of mine, you see. I would have told you, had I realized you possessed an interest in Hagrid's marital status," this with a slight half-smile.
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"Well, anyway," she said briskly. "As I understand it, it isn't as if Mr. Turlough or Hagrid would have had time for that sort of magic to be performed on them, even by the hat. And in any event, it would be a physical imposibility." Or so Hermione fervently hoped.
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He took a seat in the extra chair, and folded his leather-gloved hands in a businesslike sort of repose. "Physical impossibilities are not always so impossible as one thinks. My primary research interests have been, you might say, biothaumaturgical. Perhaps if something has been done to your friend, I can undo it."
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Oh, Lezard, like you've known so many nymphs in your life.
"If it would make you feel better, you should speak with her and she will reassure you. Our behaving normally should, if anything, discourage the Hat. It has the attention span of a drugged flea. If we bring presents, are cordial, act respectably, and so forth, surely it will lose interest." He pushed his glasses up, a habit of his even when unnecessary for the glasses' sake. Peering at Hermione, he frowned a little: "Does the state of the school perturb you deeply? A circus, as you say?"
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"For some of these people," he pointed out reasonably, "Hogwarts is an asylum from terrible strife or unlivable conditions. Others would not be alive without this shelter. It is not an entirely deplorable thing. I doubt that's much consolation to you ..." He rose and began to pace, in the manner of a mage who is doing much thinking. "Nonetheless, you are doing what you can. You've stepped up to teach a sorely needed class. You will be sharing your expertise with others. These are not insignificant contributions." Suddenly he stopped, and began to laugh. "I am not the best person with which to discuss such a thing. From my own school I was expelled, and promptly went to create my own tower where I worked alone. I am not ... a likely facilitator for institutional advancement." Quieting: "But I will help you in what small ways I can. In the class, certainly, as we've arranged. What of the party? I can certainly introduce you to Amaranth, if you've not yet met, and I think you would remember her if you had."
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"I cannot quite decide on a wedding present for the groundskeepers, myself." He had been considering some highly embarrassing items. Hermione's outspoken defense of Hagrid made that now an unadvisable move. He'd need to think of something else. Something that might annoy Turlough, but would be harmless to Hagrid. "Perhaps ... a chinchilla?"
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Whose name the planchette would reveal to be Exxon.
"If you like, we may postpone our class planning time until before the shower, then go straight to the event together. I expect you will want this afternoon for shopping."
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