The obvious answer, in Ernest's opinion, was no, of course not, but he did have at least enough paternal pride in his son not to be tricked into openly admitting that he thought the boy's intellect was negligible. Not that it was Merriweather's fault; most people were idiots, after all. It was just the way of the world, and nothing his offspring had done had ever managed to convince Ernest that he was in any way above 7the average in that respect. He also, however, thought that whether or not Merriweather was suited for a career in the Department of Mysteries was none of Mr. Lestrange's business. If the young Lestrange ended up in the department, after all, it would be purely the result of nepotism, not any actual talent or intellect.

"I imagine my son has enough of a brain to find himself a suitable career, independent of his family tree. I've always thought the tendency of some families to dominate certain industries or departments showed a lack of inspiration in their junior members," he said, a little snarkily though he kept his tone at least superficially professional. Sparing his son only the briefest of glances, he returned his attention to Mr. Lestrange and added with feigned curiosity, "I'm surprised by your interest in Mr. Mulciber's choice of career. Were you hoping to follow him into it? I had never imagined Merriweather to have such devoted friends." He might have used the word lackeys instead of friends, if he'd thought there was any way to get away with it without seeming blatantly teasing. He hardly wanted to get a reputation for picking fights with children, after all, and he was really only continuing the conversation until some professor got their wits about them enough to usher the group out the door and let him go back to work, but in the meantime... well, Mr. Lestrange was annoying. Ernest could enjoy taking the time to bruise his ego slightly, if the alternative was just to stand around and listen to him being a little shit.