The Yule Ball had, so far, been about what Tarron had expected. Elements of it were lovely - the decorations, the atmosphere, the variety of guests al made for a pleasing and interesting evening. Other elements were being met with his usual strict judgement. It was mostly the...interesting variety of outfits chosen by students that caught his dissaproving glance. He could have sworn he'd seen a young lady in a pantsuit, of all things!

But, all in all, it was going well so far. Aisling had seperated from him to go and greet Aileen, who he had yet to speak to this evening. He would have to go and say hello to his relation, but for now a far closer relation was his focus.

Landis was technically not his relative by anything other than marriage - Tarron's sister was married to Landis's uncle, making the Libraian a cousin-in-law at best. But the young man had still been one of Tarron's favorites growing up and now, with the Morgan (and some of the Harper) brood well on their way to adulthood, Landis was still the most winning of the Chief Warlock's approval. The blonde had the right mix of cold intelligence, ambition and polite society that Tarron valued in young men.

Unlike his blood nephews! Darian's dandyish nature rather disturbed his uncle's traditionalist mindset, and Rhys's lack of ambition and easy going manner had earned him his uncle's fondness, but not his approval.

He crossed the bustling Great Hall towards the far tables, where he'd spotted Landis earlier. The blonde wasn't difficult to spot even in this crowd - Tarron simply had to know what he was looking for.

"Good evening, Landis," he greeted as he approached, the warmth in his tone muted, but still there. "You're looking well. Might I have a few moments of your time?"

As little as he cared for Darian's mannerisms, Landis had always relied on his cousin for his high-end garments. His closet was full of Libertine suits and he had not needed to commission anything new in order to dress sharply. Tonight his dark dress cloak opened over an ensemble of grey and silver, not so somber as his norm. His hair was tied back from his knife-cut face and his cravat knotted high on his throat. Not too far away Juliette mingled with the other guests, her dress dazzling in the face of his elegant dark. Though they did not obviously match (his silver to her gold), there was no question they'd come together. His eyes lingered warmly on her for a moment before he moved on, checking the students for trouble - or troublemakers. Some instincts were hard to squash.

Landis had never intended to enjoy himself so fully as the other adult guests, given his chaperone role. He preferred not to mix his professional and his personal lives, including how he took his leisure (with that one notable exception of his current red-haired squeeze), and it felt too strange to feel the students' eyes on him when he danced. Still, the ball seemed a success, even more so when he spotted Tarron Knight headed his way. Landis was pleased; he had not spoken with Tarron in some time. It never hurt to reinforce his ties with the Wizengamot Head, even if that he'd grown up in the favor of such a man was simply pure luck.

"A good evening to you as well, Tarron," he said, smiling. "Of course you may."

He smiled, brightly - which for him simply meant a slight and quick flash of teeth beneath his thick and bushy mustache. "Good," he said, gesturing the younger man aside, out of the flow of traffic to and from the refreshment areas. The ball was crowded and bustling, and Tarron found it much easier to talk without having a constant risk of being swept away by some young lady's dress train.

"You're doing well for yourself here," he said, when the crowd had thinned somewhat and the people around them were mostly engaged in small, private conversations. He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at the other man carefully for just a moment, scanning him thoughtfully. Landis was in the company of a young lady tonight, and while Tarron was not the sort to gossip - heavens no - he was certainly curious at to whom his cousin had chosen for such an occasion.

Still, 'Who's the bird' was such a terribly crass question. Better if his cousin told him himself  - and Tarron did have other things to talk to the younger man about. "They're treating you well, I hope? " He asked, suddenly missing his pipe - as he usually did during social functions.

Landis hummed noncommittally. He rather thought so. He had not wanted to come to this castle in the first place, an isolated repository of the wizarding world's childen. But he thought what with Juliette and his Head post, how close he was with the library's help to achieving animagus transformation - with the realization that after every WBA strike and backalley endeavor isolated meant safe - he was doing well. Really, the only ill Hogwarts had brought him was the opportunity to be of use to Malvivicus. And the wizarding world's childen. And Kesali.

Little things.

"I can't complain about where my choices have led me," he said. "As I hope you have not been too ill-used by the parade of humanity passing before you." He smiled, well aware that should his own crimes come to light he too would be sitting in the shackled chair on the floor of the Wizengamot.

As Landis spoke, Tarron turned and summoned a goblet from the refreshment table, which came to him by weaving carefully above the heads of the crowd (having to dodge the occasional towering wizard's hat). He caught it just in time to smile slightly at Landis's drawling remark. His cousin had never had a high opinion of politics, and after decades in the midst of things, Tarron preferred that attitude to most of the others.

"Oh, I hope not," he said, taking a sip. The goblet turned out to be butterbeer, which the Chief Warlock was not particularly fond of, and he paused just a moment to make a slight face. Ah, well; it was refreshing, taste aside.

"I can't say it's quite the job I would have imagined it was, at your age," he said, with some amusement. "The defendants are quite the mixed bag, all in all. It's hardly dull, but there is rather a tendency of those in council to be...biased. Some days, I find it a refreshing challenge, others..."

He trailed off and smiled slightly, then shrugged. "And yourself? I must admit working with children was never quite the career path I had envisioned you taking."

"Biased?" Landis watched him, a keen, subtle sort of interest animating the hard lines of his face. "How so?" He thought he knew, but it would be good to have Tarron confirm. One never knew when such knowledge would come in handy.

At Tarron's next words he gave a stiff little cough, torn between surprise and embarrassment. Working with children. Ugh, it sounded so banal when stated aloud. But it wasn't an inaccurate way of describing his job, though Landis viewed the children less as an integral part of Hogwarts and more as an unfortunate infestation. They were everywhere. Couldn't be helped.

But Tarron had two of his own here, and certainly would not welcome their comparisons to inevitable, inescapable pests. Landis stopped himself from the automatic and adamant declaration that he did not work here for the children. Why else would any normal person apply for a position at a school?

"I don't think anyone did," he said instead. "Least of all myself."

Wasn't that the understatement of the decade.

Tarron waved a hand dismissively, shaking his head. "Everyone is out to push their own point of view, naturally. A pureblood being prosecuted for crimes against muggleborns enrages one half of the council; the same man being given a light sentence upsets the other half. And then there are those in between..." He sighed.

"Frankly I find myself playing the mediator more often than not," he said, with some amusement. He wasn't particularly fond of that role, but so be it - that was his role in things and he would perform his duties as best he was able.

Landis's comment made him smile again, a tad knowingly. "I see," he said, tilting his head ever so slightly. "And is this where you see yourself staying, cousin? The Ministry's a bit dry for sensible and competent men these days, you know."

Landis nodded. "That's why you get the fancy titles, I assume," he said, smirking in good-natured humor.

"And is this where you see yourself staying, cousin? The Ministry's a bit dry for sensible and competent men these days, you know."

It was true that he missed his job at the Ministry, though burying himself deep underground amongst the Unspeakables was doubtless not what Tarron was speaking of. No, he meant the lawmakers, the dry arbiters of judgement and policy, with he himself as Landis' way in. What insidious power he might hold were he to defect to that life! What years he could devote to gaining influence, what information he could seek out with a pretty new clearance level. Landis felt the pull of that position too strongly, a wanting so keen for a moment he could actually whimper at the unfairness of necessity.

But there were still reasons he needed to be at Hogwarts. As far as he knew he was Prideaux' only staff operative on site, and definitely the only one with the WBA's interests in mind. He did not even know if Malvivicus would let him live if he quit, prone to wild tempers that could easily turn on Landis should he take himself out of the equation of Kronos' will. And, to be honest, Hogwarts was a safe place on which to build his criminal bastion. Physically one of the safest, still overlaid with centuries of spellwork and protection charms. He could work from afar like a spider in the center of its web, aware of each reaching line and the vibrations that traveled back. It was where and what he needed now, no matter how he might pine for the Ministry and its power.

"For now," he said finally, pointedly letting his eyes wander off into the crowd in search of Juliette. He found her shimmering silver form and bright head of hair quickly enough. He infused the smile that grew on his lips with a certain sly warmth as he gazed at her, letting his uncle see and make the necessary assumptions. It was the easiest excuse for turning down such an offer and one he did not mind exaggerating. "I would be pleased to introduce you some time tonight."

Tarron followed his cousin's gaze, scanning the crowd for whomever Landis was sending such a fond gaze towards. The woman whom his gaze landed on was a stunning beauty, certainly - he recognized her, vaguely, as one of the Professors. He looked back to Landis, smiling slightly. He doubted his cousin's choice was spurred merely by her beauty, of course.

He hadn't expected that to be the reason his young, ambitious cousin wanted to stay, but - well. He'd been in something of that position himself, of course. And knowing Landis, the young lady was likely a far more acceptable candidate to the Morgans and Harpers than Tarron's own partner had been to the Knights and Reids. He would rather hope she was strong-willed and intelligent, as well; the idea of Landis Morgan paired with a submissive homemaker seemed rather a waste.

"I see," he said, sipping his wine. He didn't hide all of the disappointment in his tone, though he did mask it a little and suppress it. He smiled very slightly, the corner of his beard twitching up.

"I should love to meet her," he said, looking at Juliette again. "Certainly she must be a remarkable woman, to sway you," he added, half-jokingly.