"I know," Argus said as he pulled a book mindlessly from one of the shelves. Les Misérables. It was a good book, Argus recalled, for being written by a Muggle. It was something he'd read when he was a child though couldn't recall exactly why it was in his possession. It was just one of those things that had been passed down, he supposed.

Opening the leatherbound book, Argus flipped through the pages nonchalantly, "And I'm to trust you to understand that what transpired with me and your sister was not something I had intended and if she is hurt, it is not by my doing."

His eyes were fixed on the book as he spoke, his tone was casual and dismissive.