The sight of the ward had visibly made Robards’s anger waver, though only for long enough for Harry to notice it. Harry recognized it, finding that it mirrored his own reaction; worry and then headfast dismissal of the implications.<br/>Robards had continued to argue, dismissing Malfoy’s ability to compete with the care and knowledge of the collective workforce at St. Mungo’s. Harry had, as politely as possible, disagreed, rightfully annoyed at the fact that he himself had had to source out relevant material.<br/>To that, Robards had accused him of being completely devout of common sense – questioning how he hadn’t thought twice about Malfoy’s intentions behind that line of study, and taken his work at face value. It had made Harry cough a joyless laugh, offended at what he was insinuating. He had moved back to the fireplace, the blue light still lighting up through his jumper.<br/>"His work’s published anonymously," Harry cut him off, hearing where the conversation was heading. He had no intentions of entertaining that line of reasoning, rather sparing the Head Auror the opportunity to let old prejudices air. "I have absolutely no reason to mistrust its validity."<br/>"There’s a<span style="font-style: italic">plenitude</span>of reasons not to trust him –"<br/>"No, there’s not," Harry insisted, his voice firm and deaf to Robards’s worries. "He’s a Ministry hire, and I trust him accordingly."<br/>That brought the conversation to a stalemate. Harry was well aware of the fact that Malfoy wasn’t a Ministry hire by Robards’s accord; the only reason Malfoy had been offered a paid position in the first place was that Harry had gone above Robards for it.<br/>It was clear that they both realised that Harry had played a bold move, and it had paid off. Whether Robards agreed with it or not, Malfoy’s employment had come directly from the Minister’s office.<br/>The two of them stared at each other for a long and painful moment.<br/>"Stay on the fucking line," Robards bit, before his face disappeared out of the flames; these remained green, the connection still active.<br/>Harry, in turn, slumped back into the chair. He felt exhausted, and the adrenaline had subsided sufficiently for the pain in his hand to become noticeable. He flexed his hand, confirming that nothing had broken, though his knuckles bloomed pink in a fresh bruise.<br/>It took Robards another moment before he reappeared.<br/>"Aziz will be at the office in an hour, you will direct your requests to him," he said, a tense and reluctant accept of the situation; or, at the very least, of Harry’s extraordinary request for material. "Don’t call me again unless you have any answers to give."<br/>Harry straightened his posture, the anger no longer as audible in his voice. "Yes, sir."<br/>With that, Robards disappeared. The flames turned orange, before subsiding, returning to the barely-present embers that were appropriate for early summer.<br/>Harry sat for a moment, considering the way the conversation had played out. Not ideally, by any means, but Harry found it hard to care, not when he had been given free range of the Ministry archives on a Saturday. Needing to shake the last lingering tension, Harry stood, returning to the window to close it back up.