“You foolish boy."

The pureblood in him wanted to rebuke the title 'boy'. Who was she to address him as so? Under normal circumstances, Justin would've already remedied the situation, but this was anything but normal. He had essentially admitted to her that he was in league with a rising bunch of neo-death eaters. Before he had ran into Phoebe today, he had forgotten just how twisted the pure blood dominance scheme was. With the political musings of his family mixed in with his affiliation with Bently, he had succumbed to the whole promised land. There wasn't anything he could now. He was already locked in. It'd end badly for him if he abandoned the cause now.

During the war, the Ackerman family had remained neutral from the whole conflict. He could remember the period clearly. Every dinner, he hear his father speak of the noble crusade Voldemort undertook. Freeing the wizarding world of all none pure bloods would 'cleanse' the system. It'd make them stronger. Justin fantasized of such a world, where wizards ruled over others. No more hiding. No more compromising. However, what he couldn't agree with was the method. Voldemort killed indiscriminately. While his father never voiced anything direct, he could tell the head of the Ackerman line had similar sentiments. 

Exhaling, he kept holding onto Phoebe's hand. It was so cold. "A lot of things have changed in the past few years," he said slowly. Already entrusting Phoebe with sensitive information, more couldn't do any harm. "Politics, family, and the current state of affairs. It has necessitated me to take certain actions. While I don't agree with a great majority of them, some of the things my associated group shares in principle moves me."

Justin was slightly taken aback as Phoebe began to laugh. It was a maddening thing. He was about to ask if she was filling ill; Phoebe's next words wounded him to his very soul.

Keeping his gaze steady on her, he gave her hand a squeeze. "There's nothing I can say to make you feel better," he said tentatively. "I wasn't aware your husband left and you lost your child. I didn't mean to evoke ill memories. What can I do to help you Phoebe? How can I try and start to make things up to you? If I can do it, I will."

As he waited for Phoebe to respond, he felt a subtle thump against his chest. It took him a few moments to realize that the thumping wasn't his heart but came from something simpler. It was the note in his pocket. He had to check it, but fought the urge. The Circle could wait. Phoebe could not. The top year from Slytherin rarely became distressed. Today, he had witnessed a rare expression.