"Good," the patriarch said, his tone firm  - almost cold - as he placed the parchments down, "then I am to trust that you would not make the same mistakes as your sister."

The sudden change of subject was met with an equally sudden change of demeanour. Argus wanted to ensure his family were loyal to him; he wanted to make certain they knew what he had done and why. That he had not done anything wrong.

"I wish not have to explain to you the importance of family, my darling child. I'm faithful you already know. Your sister, however, wasn't aware - it broke your mother's heart every day seeing those articles about her." Argus tone dripped with false compassion, though convincing as it was, "and I wanted to set her right. I went to speak with her as you know; though she apparated away. I can't lie to you, Araminta, our conversation got heated and I had to show her her place in this society."

At this point, Argus stood up and pulled his wand from his robes and placed it on top of the piano. His fingers then clutched the whiskey glass and he moved across the room, taking note of all of the books and parchments that were stacked neatly on the shelves.

"I can remember when you told us that she was at Hogwarts," Argus was speaking quietly, his gaze no longer on his daughter; his eyes scanning the shelves, "I knew then that our lives would change - and I feared it was for the worst. I was correct in that yet," He turned to his daughter, "You never ceased to make me proud. Your unfaltering loyalty to this family - to me - is something I cherish, Araminta. You are my daughter and that is something that cannot be taken away. Do you understand?"