Ministerial Matters | A&A
The information, when it came down to it, was circumstantial and only tangentially relevant at best, and utter rubbish at worst. Aberforth first considered whether or not he should just turn around and go home for the first time while waiting in a queue in the atrium of the Ministry to get checked off on a fancy list that would do nothing to prevent any sort of nefarious-minded arse to slip in if they had half a brain and an ounce of willpower. He proceeded to consider apparating back to the Hog’s Head no less than a dozen more times before reaching his turn at the check-in desk in question. He considered letting the gentle embrace of death take him as the clerk fumbled around hopelessly in a panic at the sight of his last name. If he thought hard enough about disintegrating, and focused on exasperation and general annoyance at the world, he’d probably have enough time to manage it at the rate the clerk was moving.
And now, doing his level best to make it to Alastor’s office without attracting the attention of any of the kids bouncing around like puppies in Auror robes, Aberforth figured that at this point to abandon ship would hardly be worth it. Even if he didn’t have anything particularly earth-shatteringly important to offer.
The Auror forces, unsurprisingly, were full of Order members- young witches and wizards with lofty notions of heroics who for some reason decided to double their chances of an early and unpleasant death. And they were so bloody cheerful. Aberforth didn’t know how Alastor could stand it.
The knock on the door was firm, but cursory at best, because Aberforth waited only a handful of seconds before walking through the door. “Moody.” He closed the door behind him and turned, leveling a raised eyebrow at Alastor, his expression exuding something vaguely sardonic before he even spoke. “Looks like you’ve let your gaggle of ducklings have too much sugar again. You should cut them off before they start nibbling at people’s heels.”
@talldarkandmoody