karkaroff-silvertongueâ:
âMaybe it is just an old thing,â Igor countered, chuckling. Maybe they were all destined for the battiness of old age, if they were lucky enough to live that long. He supposed that there were worse fates. For example, not living that long.
He watched as Ed brought his wand to his temple again, drawing forth another silver thread of memory. He assumed that it was the memory that Ed spoke of, but there would have been no way to know otherwise. It simply looked like beautiful light, with no hints as to the true contents. There was something strangely moving about watching his friend perform such amazing magic so nonchalantly. Ed truly didnât realize how impressive he was. That was a truth that managed to be both refreshing and maddening. A conundrum seemingly only Ed could embody.
For a moment after Ed finished speaking, they sat in silence, watching the memories swirl around in their bottles. It was an entrancing thing and Igor found it hard to look away. Or maybe it had just been a long day at work and he was tired. He tried to chide himself over all this unexpected sentimentality, but even in the privacy of his own head the scorn lacked its usual venom.Â
He was drawn out of his thoughts by Edâs question. He snorted again. âNo,â he said firmly. Then, unexpectedly, felt a twinge of guilt over sounding so dismissive. He knew that Ed had muggle relatives. He softened his tone a bit as he continued on. âI do not know any, at the least.â It was frowned upon enough to marry a Halfblood (though increasingly unavoidable, unless you wanted to marry your cousin), let alone a Muggleborn. Igor, who didnât intend on marrying anyone, rarely thought about such things, but he could imagine his familyâs horror if anyone brought Muggles anywhere close to their lineage.Â
âMost of my cousins are marrying foreigners,â he added dryly. âForeignerâ was a word heâd come to know well, as it was quite often tossed his and Volkovâs way. âSo that they are not marrying anyone who is a⌠ah⌠related person?â He wrinkled his nose, thinking of his favourite cousin, Tatiana, who had married an exceedingly boring wizard from Scandinavia. She deserved better, but at least he was rich and stupid enough that he would be easily manipulated into doing whatever she wanted.Â
There it was again, though. That accidental honesty, that openness that he never would have shared if it had been almost anyone else. This time, however, he didnât immediately change the subject, instead letting it sit in the air between them, this chink in his armour. Armour that always seemed softer when Ed was around.
Edgar glanced up at Igor quickly when he answered the question, but the man was quick to change his tone, his expression softening to the idea. It wasnât uncommon for pureblood wizards to frown upon having Muggle relatives, so he couldnât say that he was surprised by Igorâs initial reaction. It was simply unfortunate that so many people looked down on Muggles.Â
It was slightly amusing, though Edgar tried to keep his smile under wraps, when Igor continued on to explain that his family married foreigners to avoid marrying relatives. That was the difficulty, wasnât it? So many British purebloods hadnât bothered to try similar methods, as the rampant xenophobia was surely getting in their way. Edgar simply thought that if you had to think that hard about not marrying your cousin, perhaps your methods werenât quite right.
He didnât dare say such things to Igor in this moment, instead he nodded along. âThatâs smart,â he reassured. âI canât promise any of the purebloods here can claim the same.â He smacked his hand to his face the moment the words left his mouth. That wasnât something to be spouting during a war like this one.Â
And yet, he couldnât stifle the laughter that erupted from his chest a moment later. âSorry---â he added quickly, shaking his head. â---Probably shouldnât have said that. Itâs ⌠Itâs ⌠Nevermind. Itâs not important is what it is.âÂ
It wasnât an opinion he was necessarily ashamed of. Having been raised to pretend to be a pureblood his entire life, he had come to resent them as a whole. It also wasnât as though there were Death Eaters lurking in the corners of the shop waiting for him to say something defamatory about the purebloods. But this was still Knockturn Alley, and who knew where there were ears. He preferred they listen to him say wonderful things about Muggles, rather than terrible things about purebloods.
Trying to push past the slip-up, Edgar leaned on his elbow. âYou must have a lot of relatives in different countries, then,â he said. âHow many places do you have family?â
















