I still remember my pride at convincing Cornelius to eliminate NEWT accreditation for divination. It was a subject devoid of scientific connection, without ability to factcheck and only tested ones' ability for creative writing in the moments before study began. Before settling on public service, I had once considered an apprenticeship with old Horace. Potion making can be so very calming. Potions cannot help but to allow perfect replicability with perfect attention. But alas, Millicent needed an economic advisor and the certainty of a balance sheet does offer its own relaxation. My anchor in politics was logic. Annoyance at the opposition threatened ill-recommended outbursts. Obsession with polls threatened long-term plans. Cornelius understood this as well as I and did not cave to what was easy as did so many others. The Boy Who Lived himself tried to incite a tabloid panic and civil warfare in announcing the return of the Dark Lord without a scrap of evidence. What sounds more logical? A young man so unprepared for but to weak to resist the limelight got in over his head and potentially, accidentally led to the death of a school chum? To not risk his reputation and out of understandable fear, he blames the Dark Lord himself? Believe this, or believe the Dark Lord returned from the dead to murder a Hufflepuff! Cornelius understood the balancing act of handling Albus Dumbledore. At well over a hundred, while clearly not gripping all faculties at half that age, Dumbledore's strange and guilt-like fanaticism at protecting the boy by endorsing the Voldemort facade lost Albus any sympathy the moment the old fool tried to raise a student army to defend the boy. Dolores Umbridge, while deeply loyal, lacks the temperament to serve as hostess on the Knight Bus, but was more than qualified than Dumbledore to lead our children that night. Logic could not deny it. And so I stood next to Cornelius, in my sleeping attire, in the atrium of the Ministry as we stood face to face with the Dark Lord, who had clearly battled children and renegades in the halls I call home. I had so believed so very much that I was correct, and yet never had I failed so very completely. I must understand why. And I must make amends to the world I have so deeply, deeply disappointed.