Antonin Nikolaevich Dolohov

Well done, tonight, at reading the mood of your audience so well.

I do not know what Our Lord has planned for the remainder of His visit, but I encourage you to continue to take the same tone throughout, and continue to remain a credit to your teachers.

I've just had a call from Buckingham; Our Lord will be joining us to stay through the weekend. Broome was vague about His plans, but indicated He was interested in evaluating the talent coming out of Hogwarts these days. I do not know what He will expect for us, but do be ready.

I'll let you know as soon as I have other information.

Your rank offers you certain privileges; I will not attempt to stop you leaving school grounds on the weekend -- nor bringing your friends with you -- but I would very much appreciate you letting me know in advance the next time you decide to do so. Things could be quite awkward otherwise, should someone come looking for you, and I would not wish to see nor experience the aftermath should you get hurt on such an excursion.

I'll be home tonight, but not until late -- the Good Friday services tonight are very close to the supper hour, so I'll be leaving here and going directly to the church. (A week early, this year, but it can't be helped. I do so wish there were still an active Russian Orthodox community.)

Septima's agreed to oversee the children getting on the train tomorrow, so I'll come home from the church, and then there will be two whole weeks of not having to deal with the little darlings at all. (I will not say "two whole weeks of peace and quiet"; I know better than that.)

I've asked the office to send Mr Marvolo's replacement ID card directly to me, my dear, and when it arrives I'll make sure the elves simply deliver it to him and it will be his own decision what to happen past that point; if he runs into problems for not having it, that will be his own choice.

I know how incredibly stressful it can be when the little darlings don't obey -- and you have been doing a lovely job with them -- and I know how easy it is to get emotionally overinvolved in the situation when one of them winds up defying you. Particularly when it is Mr Marvolo, who redefines 'stubborn', and with whom the question of punishment is difficult. It's so very easy for matters to escalate to the point where we find ourselves doing things we did not intend, simply because no one involved wanted to back down, isn't it? (I have found myself in such straits many times before.)

Still: next time something like this happens, I would prefer for you to call for me, or send Mr Marvolo to me, and I will take care of matters further. He has been feeling his way around his adolescent rebellion and looking for a route into adulthood, and I would rather not give him more reasons to rail against what he sees as senseless bureaucracy. (Well. I would rather we not have to deal with the problem of a student we cannot punish and cannot dissuade, but thankfully, that will cease being a problem in another few months.)

The prospect of Friday nights is much less interesting now that we no longer have our standing appointment, you know. There are entirely too few people who are willing to sit and talk about everything under the sun with me. And I've been forced to find my own copies of American Witches. (Have you read the latest? ...have I read the latest? I've lost track. I am current through Spring Break. At least they've backed off trying to make them say Important Things about what's going on here at Hogwarts. And at least they've added someone to the stable; if I had to read another book written by Miss Dangling-Participle, I'd've dropped in to the publisher to have words.)

If you have access to a bookstore, meanwhile, Benjamin Brickett has a new one out. Can't remember the title offhand, but it's about the development of writing. I get interrupted every time I get more than two pages in, but it's up to his usual standard so far.

I've been thinking about what you last said to me, you know, in the midst of putting pieces together. Two years' worth of pieces, and then some. I have no proof, of course, but Snape's identifying himself as a member of the Order was enough to let me put quite a few things together; I know you, and I know Poppy, and I know what you scruple at and what you will not put up with.

Does Narcissa know her son is still alive? Because if she doesn't, that is incredibly cruel of you. You have a week to find some way of telling me that she does that will satisfy your people in charge and their security measures, before I take care of it myself.

(I dislike ultimatums. They're messy, and they leave so little room for negotiation. But continuing to allow a mother to mourn her son as dead is the point at which ultimatums become necessary.)

As for the rest of what I've been putting together ... well. As I said, I've been thinking about what you last said to me, but в до́ме пове́шенного не говоря́т о верёвке. They're only suspicions, after all.

Give Miss L my best. And the other whose location I think you know.

Don't let me forget: I have something for you. I felt the need for some simple, uncomplicated puttering tonight, and unpacked some of the bottom layers of the book-trunk that I haven't been at for quite some time; down among the detritus I found several things copied from the Conclave's library that I'd forgot I had. I don't remember the contents well enough to say if any of them will be useful for you -- I think at least one of them might be, though I may be mistaken -- but you may enjoy going through them even if they aren't. You'll have to hand-copy anything you find relevant, since they're all powerful enough to resist duplication, but I don't mind lending them to you long enough for you to do so; they have lived in my trunk for thirty years or so without being disturbed, after all.

(I would simply send them by elf, but they are lineage-bound; I will need to introduce you to them.)

Come see me immediately in the warmup pen, immediately. Any of you could be called for the next rounds, and there is information you will need to know.

I am by all the gods and saints getting you all alive through this, Inferi or no

Did he He give you any hint of His plans beforehand? I wasn't even in the bloody country last time and I still know how badly the Frost Faire games were taken. He cannot possibly mean to do this again.

I am so sorry to say that Barty and I will have to miss the dragon's share of tomorow's gathering -- he's recovering, but not yet to the point of being able to be out of bed for more than an hour without some sort of heroic measures, and as he refuses to believe that he ought not be out of bed for more than an hour, I hesitate to leave him alone. If he is having a good day, I will stop by briefly to deliver our gifts; otherwise I will send them by elf.

Druella, I am dreadfully sorry not only that we will not be able to attend, but for the short notice as well; we had both hoped up until today that Barty would be feeling well enough to attend. (My mother is undoubtedly raining down imprecations upon my rudeness from the world beyond.) The thought of the hospitality of your home will warm my memories in the coming year. Христос Раждається -- blessings upon your house and all those who dwell there.