Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!

I'll post the next chapter today as well; this Intermission was necessary to tie up some of the loose ends.

Intermission: After the Duel

"No, to the side. Now try me."

"Expelliarmus!"

Millicent caught her breath as she watched her father lunge out of the way of her spell, and land heavily in the dirt under their tent. Adalrico had insisted on removing the charms that protected them from the rough, wet ground, so that he could get used to walking on different kinds of surfaces with his wounded ankle. Now he stood up, grimacing, and flexed his foot. The bandages around it were already unraveling, but he tightened them again with a muttered charm and faced her.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded. "You should have attacked me while I was down, daughter. None of this fair play nonsense, if you please, or I shall think you've been spending too long around Gryffindors."

With a breathless laugh, Millicent obliged, and dueled further with her father, helping him to test the limits the wound had put on his life. Elfrida sat in a corner of the tent with Marian, and held her, and smiled like the stars.

Millicent had come to accept that the Fisher King Curse couldn't be healed, mostly because Adalrico himself seemed so accepting. The wound was permanent. It wouldn't heal, and if Adalrico removed the skin where it had taken root, or even his whole foot, it would only move up his leg and fester there. The important thing was to keep it clean and wrapped so it wouldn't stink, drink plenty of Blood-Replenishing Potion from now on, and learn to know what movements he could make without pain and which he couldn't.

It was a small price, considering he might have paid with his life, though Millicent still found herself unsatisfied. She would have liked vengeance against Starrise. But Adalrico had seen the thoughts written on her face and shaken his head at her.

"Do not, daughter," he'd said softly. "You heard what Harry said. He means it. No seeking vengeance against Starrise."

"They're not part of the alliance anymore," said Millicent. Harry had come to their tent an hour ago, to see how Adalrico was, and to share the owl he'd received from Pharos Starrise. Apparently, in the event of his uncle's death, Augustus had instructed him not to ally with Harry, and to keep the linchpin from him by any means possible. "We could attack them." She'd murmured those words directly after Harry had left, and still her father shook his head, that stubborn, dark expression fastened into place.

"Pharos Starrise is not part of the alliance any more, but Tybalt Starrise still is," said Adalrico. "Attack his brother, and we would be obeying the letter of Harry's words while disobeying the spirit. I won't have that said of us ever again, Millicent. Once, I followed a Lord I had to be ashamed to own when I wasn't doing exactly what he wanted. Now, I follow a leader I can be proud of, and that means doing what he asks of me, even when it's hard."

Millicent had nodded, reluctantly, and then they'd returned to their dueling practice. Now Adalrico stood, bowed to her, and then limped across to her mother, who lifted her face to be kissed.

Millicent slipped out of the tent as she had the night before, but this time, her gaze fixed on the moon and stars was much happier than it had been. She had also been alone then, and she wasn't now. Catching a faint movement off to the side, she whirled around and lifted her wand.

Pierre Delacour moved a step forwards, raising his hands with a slight smirk. "My lady," he said. "I can approach you without triggering your defensive reflexes, no?"

"You can," said Millicent, lowering her wand and studying him carefully. "But I did not think you would ever wish to approach me again, after what you have heard about my father."

"My lady, your father survived a duel," said Pierre. "I am not sure why this strange country is so without honor, but in mine, we can put aside wounds when the duel is done. That is the way of it. That is what all duels were meant to do in the past, to satisfy honor." He claimed her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. "And I find myself more than satisfied in the beauty of the winner's daughter."

Millicent knew he was flattering her—she wasn't beautiful—but that he was willing to flatter her said a great deal. She laid a hand on the side of his face and said, "My father did grant me permission to marry you if he'd died in the duel."

"Did he?" Pierre cocked his head, eyes intent on her face.

"He did," Millicent confirmed. "Therefore, it's not entirely inappropriate if I do this." She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips.

Pierre stiffened in surprise for just a moment, then kissed her back, and stepped away with a soft smile of appreciation. "Thank you, my lady," he murmured. "If you were a shy and fainting maiden—"

"Then you would not have approached me at all," Millicent retorted, and nodded towards the entrance of the Bulstrode tent. "Shall we go inside and see what my father has to say about this, since he's still alive?"

"That doesn't make sense?" Laura Gloryflower sounded concerned, her eyebrows rising. "But it is supposed to make sense, vates. I assure you, all the northern families but Starrise are agreed on this."

Harry forced himself to relax and sit still on his stool. Laura had shown up with such splendor—not only attired in formal robes adorned with her family crest, but with an artificial golden cat at her side—that he felt as if he should have received her in grander surroundings. Now, he could admit that staying in the Black tent might have been a good idea. "I suppose it does make sense," he said. "I just didn't expect it, ma'am. I thought for certain you would follow Starrise in denying me the linchpins. I had seen that many of the northern families did whatever he told them."

Laura shrugged. "That was Augustus. Pharos has been in the shadow of his uncle for so long that very few of us have had the chance to know him for himself. I know him better than most, and I don't like what I see. Pharos is a follower, not a leader. That was the core of the conflict between Tybalt and Augustus, you know," she added. "Both were leaders, and Tybalt could not endure the kind of confinement Pharos accepted. But Starrise will pay for it now. Augustus has the heir he wanted, but Pharos is already looking for the guidance that he misses.

"The other part of it, Harry, is that this was a duel. If we broke apart from you now, or denied what we promised you before the duel began simply because a Dark wizard won, then we are saying such rituals are worthless to us. A duel matters—but only if the person we think should have the victory wins?" Laura snorted and shook her head. "Any true Light wizard is worth more than that, Harry, I would hope. I'm sure Augustus didn't intend to, but he did you a favor. You were bound to accept the result, and that binds us to accept it, too."

Harry blinked and ran his hand through his hair. "Then I have all the linchpins except Starrise," he said. "I—thank you, Mrs. Gloryflower. I still didn't expect it, though it's starting to sound as if I should have."

Laura's lips wrinkled in a small smile. "Perhaps when you come to understand Light wizards better, Harry, you will learn to expect such things," she murmured. She stood and considered him for a moment, then added, "There are some of your Light allies who are a bit concerned that your guardian, your future joined partner, the person whose heir you are, and most of your closest allies are all Dark wizards."

"And my brother's Declared for Light," said Harry firmly. "And I count the Weasleys and many other Light children in Hogwarts as friends. And I need the support of the Light families to take out the linchpins. I appreciate the concern, Mrs. Gloryflower, and thank you for telling me of it. But I don't intend to change matters in my personal life to suit my allies' whim."

Laura laughed in delight, and the cat beside her sat up and clapped its paws with a soft ringing sound. "I appreciate the honesty, Harry," she said. "And I can sway most of the others to seeing things your way, I'm sure."

"You're their leader now, aren't you?" Harry asked. "Now that Augustus is dead, they're looking to you."

Laura dipped her head. "Harry, whatever gave you that idea?"

He just looked at her, and she laughed again. "I am the most determined of them," she said. "And that has always counted for a great deal in our world, more than magical strength; Augustus was not as powerful a wizard as Gloriana Griffinsnest, for example, but he had more of an idea of what to do with his power." She paused for a moment, then added contemplatively, "And I think it will benefit your alliance, Harry. After all, I wish the rights of werewolves to be extended, too, now that my niece is one. I will try to persuade the others to see things the same way."

"Thank you," said Harry softly. Laura nodded.

"There is one more thing I wanted to tell you, a gift that only I can give you," said Laura. "I understand that you may be joining battle soon."

Harry nodded, his mind flashing to Midsummer and what he would try to do there. Some pieces of the plan were already in place—for example, the centaurs' participation and the fact that he would have to find some way to cleanse the tainted magic in the stone—but others were floating, awaiting confirmation of certain reports.

"Allow me to offer you some artificial animals," said Laura. "My family is small enough that our fighting alone would not turn the tide of battle, but some of our golden or jeweled creations might." She smiled down at the cat beside her, and touched the realistic-looking tufts of golden fur that grew from between the ears. "What kind would most help you? Horses? Unicorns? Cats? Dogs?"

If I'm right, then we'll need to move swiftly on the battlefield, and attacking from above and underneath wouldn't be a bad idea, either. "Horses," Harry said firmly. "And anything you have that flies or burrows underground."

Laura laughed again. "Then we can get rid of a prototype that one of my ancestors created and which has been gathering dust ever since," she said. "I will send you their specifications in a few weeks' time, Harry. Until then." She inclined her head and stepped out of the tent, the cat padding beside her.

Harry stretched his arms above his head and yawned. Snape had gone off for a private discussion with Regulus, and told Harry not to wait up. In fact, Harry was fairly sure that Snape had thought he would go to bed by now. But Harry had had to visit the Bulstrodes, read Pharos's letter, and have discussions with a few of his allies, including Laura, which had filled him with tentative determination. Most of them weren't going to be torn apart from him by this duel—

If—and that reminder always lingered in the back of their voices—Harry really did enforce the standards he'd spoken of. If he allowed his Dark allies to get away with things that he wouldn't allow his Light allies, then bad things would happen.

He was just turning for bed when the tent entrance rustled. John Smythe-Blyton was standing there when Harry faced it again, and he spoke at once in a hushed, excited voice.

"Tybalt can't be seen coming near you right now," he whispered. "It would be disrespectful to his uncle's memory, since the new head of the family has decided that he wants nothing to do with you."

Harry nodded, having expected that.

"But Tybalt wants you to know that he's still loyal to you," said John. His dark eyes shone in the firelight. Harry wondered if it was defying the family that had so despised him, or just the sneaking around and delivering of secret messages, that made him so excited. "He's going to do what he can to restore the linchpin to your control. And he says it's a good thing now that you didn't persuade Augustus to change the means of inheritance." He laughed, quietly, and then dipped his head to Harry and ducked out of the tent.

Harry paused, thinking about that. The linchpins were linked to the earth, yes, but also to a family. If he had not rejected his last name, then Lux Aeterna and the house at Godric's Hollow would have passed to him when James was stripped of his magic, because he was the elder son and of Potter blood. With the Black legacy, though, Regulus had had to choose the person he wanted to leave the inheritance to, and Sirius had been formally disowned and then reinstated with the help of Dumbledore's spell. There was no sharing of the property in common.

That was the major difference Harry could think of. He wasn't sure how it would help Tybalt keep the linchpin, though.

He shook his head, and sought his bed. He was tired, and if the events of the evening had strengthened him, the events of the morning had embittered him. He knew he would see the flesh-and-stone statue that Augustus had become in his dreams.

"You should tell him."

Regulus stood in the entrance of the Black tent, looking into the sky. Snape concealed a snort in his hand. He knew what Regulus was doing: watching the stars, the way those of his family tended to do in times of great crisis. Or maybe that was just Regulus. Certainly Snape remembered seeing him do it in their Death Eater days.

"You're a fine one to talk, Severus," his friend said, without looking over his shoulder. "Since you kept so many things from Harry for his own good, that you'd be turning his parents in not least among them."

Snape scowled and said nothing. That had been for Harry's own good, so that he wouldn't stop Snape and try to keep his parents and Dumbledore free. Regulus's secret was based on shame, from what he'd said, and shame was nothing Harry could not forgive.

"Besides," Regulus added then, "I'm going to tell him in a few days."

Snape fought to keep his jaw shut. At last he said, "And you're still not going to tell me, I suppose?"

Regulus's shoulders hunched. "I…no. Please don't ask me, Severus. Telling you why would involve telling you the secret."

Snape bowed coldly and swept out of the tent, cursing his bad leg that wouldn't let him make as dramatic an exit as he liked; his robes swirled once and then dropped like a wounded bat behind him. He made his way back to his own tent, now and then studying the sky. He couldn't read whatever message Regulus had seen written in the stars, though, no matter how long he looked.

It was better looking than admitting he was jealous of Harry for receiving Regulus's confidence.

And it was better than the imaginary vision of a bottomless pit he could see opening under his feet. This alliance had not ended on the settled note Snape had thought it would. They all seemed to be hurtling forward faster than he would like, a fall that might end on Midsummer Day, or never.