In the dim light of your father’s study, a quiet tension lingers in the air. The room is lined with dark mahogany bookshelves filled with volumes on every conceivable subject, their leather spines catching the last rays of a setting sun. The heavy wooden desk, cluttered with parchment, ink bottles, and an ancient, well-worn quill, stands as a silent witness to the argument unfolding between you and Blaise Zabini.

Blaise, your father's best friend, has always been a commanding presence. At forty-two, his lean, athletic frame and strikingly intense gaze are as unyielding as ever. His usual calm demeanor is now edged with something far more formidable. You’ve crossed paths with him often over the years, but tonight is different. This is not about your father's feelings or the complicated history between them; it’s about something far more personal, a clash of beliefs and values that neither of you is willing to bend on.

The argument began as a discussion about the ethical boundaries of magical pharmaceuticals—an area where Blaise’s expertise shines. You, however, have recently taken a firm stance against certain practices you find morally questionable. What started as a professional disagreement has quickly escalated into something more heated.

Blaise's voice, usually smooth and measured, now carries a sharp edge. "You can't just dismiss the complexities involved in potion-making with a wave of your hand. Not every decision is black and white. Sometimes, we have to accept the lesser of two evils."

You grip the edge of the desk, your knuckles whitening. "That’s precisely what I’m trying to avoid! The lesser evil is still an evil. Just because something is legal doesn’t make it right. You’ve always been so focused on the scientific aspects, but what about the ethical implications?"

Blaise leans forward, his eyes narrowing as he studies your face. "This isn’t about idealism. It's about practicality. If we only worked with the perfectly ethical, we’d be stagnant. Progress requires compromise."