That's Occam's razor.
Or, to rephrase, "Of two equivalent theories or explanations, all other things being equal, the simpler one is to be preferred."
The simpler one is the one where I survive and gain power, at least personally. But it is impossible to see which way is better at this point. There is no formal field, no known outcome. Either could win. Or neither, I suppose, is a possibility as well.
Still, I know what I shall do with my chosen course of actions.
I took a walk in Edinburgh last night. It was pleasant, definitely. Very summer, lots of people around. Very nice. I wonder what they would do if I tried to prove to them who I was?
For their past history informs my current life far more than most might think. But Muggles do not have a tolerance for the unusual, nor an ability to readily grasp that it is not necessarily a threat.
They shoot first, and ask questions later, as they so piquantly phrase it.
Odd. But I suppose I do as well.
I should speak to Kevin soon, he seems a nice sort of person. And possibly as fish-out-of-water as I was at the DA meeting.
I still have no idea why Warrington didn't tell the Aurors who I was - and, more to the point, why they came looking for me. I have done nothing worth reporting to them. But then, so little is.
And the man in the pub. Ah yes. The man in the pub. Allow me to keep that secret, at least, oh journal.