Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter!

Sometimes, there are no right decisions. There are only decisions you can live with.

Chapter Thirty-Eight: On the Eve of Revolution

"But there is nothing we can do," said Draco in a calm, reasonable voice. "You have to understand that, Harry. Since you disagreed with the latest set of werewolf laws that Scrimgeour sent, then what Mrs. Griffinsnest did is still not illegal."

"It's not legal, either," said Harry, not looking up from the letter he was writing. "The Ministry repealed the werewolf hunting season, remember? So right now, one could argue that it's not legal or illegal to kill werewolves."

"That's strange," said Draco.

Harry nodded. "I agree. But that doesn't mean I have to simply say that it's strange, and sit back to hope the Ministry punishes Gloriana. I want to make it clear to Scrimgeour that this is going to require more action."

"And if he can't do that?" Draco asked. "If he finds his hands bound? He's given you so much already, Harry. The Wizengamot must be nearing the end of its patience with him, and with you."

Harry whirled around. Draco's face went pale as he looked at him. Harry guessed that his magic had altered the look of his face or his eyes; it would explain Laura's reaction, too. Harry held Draco's gaze and murmured, "I know what I'm going to do if Scrimgeour doesn't respond. I have countermeasures in place. But it would be useless to upset all the Ministry's delicate work if Scrimgeour is going to arrest Gloriana anyway. I'm writing him." He nodded at his letter. "And if he doesn't do anything, then it's revolution, and not rebellion, he wins."

"For one werewolf?" Draco asked.

"Yes." Laura had told him how it had been. She usually spent the full moon nights with Delilah. When Delilah had begun to howl and paw at the ground, then grabbed her arm and tried to pull her out the door, Laura had Apparated first to the Griffinsnest home, thinking that something might have happened to her niece's packmate. She had found Gloriana drawing silver knives out of Claudia. It was not murder, to hear her describe it, but butchery.

Claudia was someone Harry hadn't managed to protect, either. He should have insisted that she come to Woodhouse, even though the reason she had remained still in the first place was to prevent the mad lycanthrope-haters in her family from finding out she was a werewolf. And she had been his ally, not a werewolf hunter who had appealed to him for protection when he couldn't run anymore.

She had depended on him, looked to him—if not as alpha, as defender. She had helped him in the original attack on Woodhouse a year ago. She had come to Hawthorn when Hawthorn so badly needed her comfort after the Midsummer battle. Harry had sent her Wolfsbane.

And now she was dead, and the rage in him was screaming like a trapped and cornered thing, the way he thought Claudia might have screamed when she was cut apart. Or would she have gone to her death with more dignity than that? Even when Fenrir Greyback's bite had ripped off her right ear and left her with a huge scar across her face, Claudia had been mostly silent, Laura said, and tended not to complain about her loss.

That Gloriana had also helped him with information about accepted werewolves made no never mind. She had turned on her own relative, her own blood. She had done it when she had to know that Claudia would be reluctant to fight back; she had Wolfsbane, so she wasn't a savage monster, and even if she only wounded Gloriana, she would still infect her with lycanthropy. What Gloriana had done was so far from justice that it only added to the building scream in Harry's head.

He attached the letter to Hedwig's leg. The snowy owl was awake, of course, since it was night, and she had fluttered over to his shoulder at once when he entered the bedroom, as if she knew this would be important. She looked at him now, and Harry stared back into her golden eyes. He wondered if Claudia's eyes had shone like that before she died, if she had tried a desperate gaze to make Gloriana understand.

"Minister Scrimgeour, girl," he whispered.

Hedwig rose like a white shadow and drifted through the window. Harry took a deep breath and laid his head down on the desk for a moment. Draco's hand brushed his shoulder once, hesitantly, as though questioning whether he wanted to be touched, and then withdrew.

"And what are you going to do if this doesn't work?" Draco asked softly.

"That's my contingency plan," said Harry, and grabbed another piece of parchment. He could feel his mind crystallizing, his memory pulling up the Daily Prophet articles he'd read over the last few weeks, and even before that, during August and September. A list of names unscrolled past his eyes. The names at the forefront of that list weren't Light pureblood wizards, but most of their allies were.

Like Gloriana Griffinsnest. And Laura had said that many of the pureblood witches and wizards believed that the Ministry did not value werewolves' lives as much as theirs. That meant they might have heard Gloriana bragging about her werewolf kills, or expressing attitudes that would mean she intended to murder any werewolf who appeared in her vicinity, family member or not. They could know damning evidence. They could cast her into the Ministry's jaws.

If they had some reason to do so.

Harry would give them a reason to do so. The Light pureblood wizards had largely fallen from grace after the accusations of child abuse on the part of their leader came out, and the few Light pureblood wizards in Harry's inner circle were not enough to convince them they had similar standing with his Dark allies. He knew they had lost influence at the Ministry, if only because Lucius and other Dark wizards had regained theirs.

And now his break with Lucius was going to help him, help him most wonderfully.

Fear of werewolves might have begun this killing, but it would not end it—not if Harry had anything to say about it. He would not simply intimidate people into accepting equal rights for werewolves. He had seen how shaky a basis for any kind of lasting conviction terror was, how it could turn around and bite those who had begun it. He would use the much safer pillars of self-interest and ambition to build his house on.

Fling a rope to the Light pureblood wizards, promise to try to use his political influence to help them regain theirs, and they would be more willing to support things like rights for werewolves and the Goblin Board. Those were the broader goals.

And also smaller ones, a personal gift for a personal gift. The personal gift Harry wanted was Gloriana Griffinsnest, and enough evidence to try her fairly.

The personal gift the Light pureblood wizards wanted was some form of control over him.

He could give that to them.

His letter began, Dear Aurora Whitestag.


Rufus put Harry's letter down slowly, feeling sick. Hedwig had flown straight to his office to find him. He had stayed at the Ministry that night, falling asleep over some paperwork, but he had no doubt the snowy owl would have flown to his house if she had to.

A murder. A murder that could break or make the Ministry's stance on this, that could provide a rallying point for their enemies or a rallying point for their own side. And Rufus knew what the Wizengamot, especially the Elders who were chafing under his control, would do once they heard of this. He might control all the magic in the Ministry, but he did not control their minds or their free wills. And they would run like mad to the first person who claimed that what Gloriana Griffinsnest did was not wrong, because that would mean they could start working to say that the new laws were unjustified and werewolves should be restricted once more.

Rufus had thought he had climbed safely on wings of power above the sea of chaos. He should have known that it would reach up and drown him sooner or later.

He knew there was no way he could agree to Harry's request. The laws bound him. Werewolf hunting was illegal now, but provisions to try anyone who killed a werewolf as they would for any other murder were not yet legal. And Mrs. Griffinsnest would surely argue that, as well as arguing that she had no idea the dead werewolf might not attack her; she had been living in her house for months, after all, disguised as a human, and could have had some nefarious plan. If she wanted to be honest, why not admit her lycanthropy?

What would Harry's response to that be? In his letter, he only spoke of a contingency plan. Rufus didn't know what it was. All-out war? Leaning on his Dark allies until the Ministry crumbled and did what he wanted? Refusing reconciliation until a trial date was set?

Rufus simply didn't know.

"Sir?"

Rufus looked up. Percy had stayed with him, and been awakened by Hedwig's fluttering arrival. Now, though, he stood by the hearth, staring into it.

"Someone's trying to establish a Floo connection, sir," he said. "Should I let them through?"

Rufus sat up. He didn't think it could be Harry, because Harry wouldn't have sent a letter if he intended to firecall, but he would bet Galleons to Knuts that it was related. "Do so," he said, with a nod, and Percy tapped the hearth with his wand and then stepped back out of the way. Rufus hoped vaguely that he looked presentable. Falling asleep over one's desk was a marvelous way to get ink smeared on one's cheek, but not much else.

The face that appeared in the flames was one of the last he expected. "Mrs. Whitestag," he said, and tried to keep his voice simply cold, without any of the massive irritation that arose the moment he saw her. This was the last time of night that he wanted to talk about the bloody monitoring board, which she had tried to insert into their conversation after his speech the other day. "Can I do something for you?"

"Minister," said Whitestag simply, and smiled at him. She held up a piece of parchment. Rufus squinted, but couldn't make out what was written on it through the green-tinged flames. "I came to say that we have heard of your recent difficulties, and you need not worry. We can give you all the evidence that you need to convict Gloriana Griffinsnest of wrongful, premeditated murder."

Rufus stopped breathing, literally. Percy had to pound him on the back. He let out a great whoop of air, wished Whitestag hadn't been watching, and leaned forward to stare. "And why would you be willing to do that, ma'am?" His mind was racing. He knew Whitestag was undeclared, without allegiance to either Light or Dark, though she had been working with the Light purebloods, the ones with the most reason to want Harry bound and controlled. And some Light purebloods had supported the anti-werewolf laws as well, because most of the officials in the Ministry supporting them were of the Light, and because they seemed to believe they had to achieve power any way they could against the Dark and its creatures. He knew of no reason that they would agree to turn their backs on Mrs. Griffinsnest, a woman who had only done what most of them talked about and wished they had the courage to do.

"Because," said Whitestag, with another shake of the parchment she held, "Harry vates has seen sense. He has acknowledged that, for all that he named his organization the Alliance of Sun and Shadow, he has had very little to do with the Light of late. He invites more Light wizards to come to his side. He says that he understands how it would look like he was wild and uncontrolled, or at best in the control of the Dark, since so many of the Dozen Who Died were children of Light pureblood families. He says that he has broken with Lucius Malfoy." She paused and looked at him inquiringly.

Rufus half-closed his eyes, thinking of Lucius's pale face in Courtroom Ten. It would pale further when he heard of this, Rufus was certain. Lucius had disowned his son and refused to support Harry's rebellion, unless lifting Rufus to dictator of the Ministry could be counted as supporting it, but Rufus had been sure he meant to regain his place at Harry's side eventually. If Harry was publicly announcing a break with him, Rufus did not see how that could happen.

"That is true," he had to say. "Lucius Malfoy disowned his son Draco, Harry's courting partner in a joining ritual." He could not say much more than that, because the Unbreakable Vow he'd sworn in Courtroom Ten would not let him betray Lucius, but Whitestag didn't seem to need more than that. She only looked happy.

"And Harry has accepted the monitoring board," she went on, her voice swelling with triumph.

"He cannot," said Rufus, before he thought. "He is vates. How could he accept a set of such close restrictions on his movements?"

"Oh, we don't mean to be restrictions," said Whitestag instantly. "That was my intention when I began to circulate the idea of the board, I admit, and had not studied the situation more closely. But I have read what a vates is, Minister, and I will say now that what I originally intended would be impossible. Harry must be free to consult his own conscience and do what it says. We simply mean to be a set of voices for the Light, as his closest allies are already a set of voices for the Dark. He carries the shadows with him. We will be the sun." She smiled. "We mean to swear the oaths for the Alliance of Sun and Shadow. There are a few who won't agree, I know, but most who supported the monitoring board will."

Because they listen to you, Rufus thought. Whitestag was their leader, the one who had hammered them into a united force and could get them to do what she said with a flick of her eyebrow or a lift of her finger. It rather reminded Rufus of a werewolf pack. Whitestag led not because she was the most magically powerful, as Dumbledore had led the Order of the Phoenix, but because she was the cleverest and had a charisma none of the others could match. And she was the reasonable face, where for so long Philip Willoughby had been the face of the grieving parent. Her interviews in the Daily Prophet had always come across as rational, the words of a woman able to adapt to changes and accept new information as she found it.

Rufus had simply not realized that was true, that Whitestag would happily compromise and accept some lesser version of what she had wanted in the beginning for the sake of having something at all.

She's not a fanatic, she's a politician, and I was wrong to underestimate her.

"So you believe that Harry has agreed to this of his own free will?" he questioned heavily.

Whitestag laughed. "I would like to see who could impersonate the vates and get away with it, or make an offer in his name that was not sincere! Yes, Minister, I do. He wants Gloriana Griffinsnest brought to justice. Who would not? She murdered an ally of his."

"With the state of the laws, that may not be possible," Rufus warned her.

Whitestag smiled. "Minister, think for a moment about the allegiance of those who will most heartily protest a fair trial—well, those who would have, this morning."

Rufus thought. Erasmus, Juniper, Gregorian, Kildain—

All of the Light.

Whitestag closed her left eye in a slow wink as she saw him catch on. "This isn't just a bargain to support werewolves or give us our monitoring board, Minister," she said quietly. "This is a bargain to bring the Light back to power, to equal standing with the Dark. It unites the major lines of force in the Ministry, the reasonable Light purebloods, the reasonable Dark purebloods, and Harry vates. The fanatics will be left out in the cold. Juniper, for instance, might not vote for this, because he hates werewolves. But that doesn't matter. The central elements are coming together, and we can save justice, equal rights for werewolves, and the reputation of the Light, so badly scratched and scarred and stained by the actions of Albus Dumbledore. We can save your term in office, Minister."

"You are undeclared," said Rufus. "I fail to see why this makes you so happy, Mrs. Whitestag."

"I can rejoice for my allies, can I not?" Whitestag's large dark eyes were guileless as they met his. "And I have what I want," she ended, in a softer tone. "So, Minister. Summon the Wizengamot. Tell them of this outrage. Tell them of the compromise we are establishing. Encourage them to pass the new laws now. Harry has said that he will agree to the last set of terms that you sent him, because he trusts the Ministry to do the right thing and punish a murder committed after werewolf killing was made illegal."

"It was not—" said Rufus, and stopped.

"Exactly," said Whitestag. "The Wizengamot was meeting in the middle of the night. This is urgent, sir, so urgent. Who can say at what hour the laws passed, before or after the murder was committed? In truth, sir, the Wizengamot had already agreed to offer this set of terms to Harry; the Daily Prophet will record that, given that you sent a copy of the documents to them. What rendered that offer useless was Harry's refusal. And he has changed his mind now."

Rufus breathed through his teeth. He could refuse, after all. He could say this was immoral, trying Gloriana Griffinsnest for something that had not been illegal when she did it. He could refuse to summon the Wizengamot.

But murdering a werewolf was not legal, either, and had not been since the edict about the hunting season was repealed more than two weeks ago. And neither was murder moral. And hadn't he plunged into dark waters already, with the Ritual of Cincinnatus and the lies that protected it? If he needed a clear conscience, he should have persuaded sixteen Wizengamot members to vote for him, not taken the first sixteen people who showed up and guarded what they did with lies and secrets and Obliviates.

How could he say that this, with one more lie, was worse?

Rufus bowed his head. "You are certain," he asked, one more time, "that Harry made this decision of his own free will?"

"Let me read you the last paragraph of his letter." Whitestag held the parchment up. "I know that there are some who will question my sincerity on this point, or argue that I am acting out of vengeance and misguided rage. To them I say: I am vates. I knew before I began to walk this path that there are thorns among the roses, and that stepping on the free wills of others would cost me. I have stepped on the free wills of others before this, because I know it was not the Minister's will that I break into Tullianum, nor all the werewolves' will to be forced into coming to Woodhouse as the best alternative to dying. A rebel cannot help but defy the common will. I am trying to correct that now. I will not give up what I have fought so long and so hard for, but I can try to reach out and respect the free wills of people I considered enemies, if they agree not to be enemies any longer, and I can take on oaths. If I swear an oath, I do so by my own free will. If I wear a collar, I choose to put that collar on my neck myself."

Rufus could think of times when Harry had done that, including his oath to defend the werewolves and his attempt to work with Rufus on the matter of the Unspeakables, instead of breaking into open rebellion at the first sign of trouble. He had put off revolution as long as he could. And now he was offering to pursue that revolution through legal means as much as possible.

Rufus might question Harry's motives for this, but it was true that it was absolutely Harry's choice to agree to the monitoring board, if that was what he really wanted.

You can have a mildly clean conscience—and even then, you would be letting a murderer escape and Harry do Merlin knows what next, which might result in more deaths—or you can accept one more lie and make it truth.

"I am going to summon the Wizengamot," he said.

Whitestag smiled at him, and gave a little bow. "This has been a night for seeing sense," she said. "Until we meet again, Minister."

The flames flared and died. Rufus rose and walked towards the door of his office, hearing Percy's light footsteps at his back.

"Sir?"

Rufus turned around and looked at Percy, almost hoping for some condemnation. Percy would have the right. He had been part of the Ritual of Cincinnatus, and if he thought things had gone too far and it was costing too much to do what they wanted to do, then Rufus needed to hear it.

But Percy's face shone with admiration instead. "Sir," he said, and then stopped, and then said, "Sir. You're upholding the spirit of the law, not the letter. I find that much better than the other way around."

Rufus gave a jerky little nod, then opened his office door. The dozing Aurors on either side of the door, Rags and Hope, stood up straight and turned to look at him.

"We're going to Courtroom Ten," said Rufus, and began walking fast enough that they hurried to keep up with him. He felt Percy's stare on his back, and knew it did not judge. He would have to be the judge of himself.

There is no right answer, is there? I would feel just as many qualms if I turned Whitestag down and insisted on not trying Griffinsnest.

I suppose this is something Harry and I have in common: trying as best we can to do what's right, with the wrong always mixed in with it. I suppose Harry's known that since he killed those children. The ability to say "this is absolutely right" belongs to other people.


Harry felt as if he had a bad case of sanity. The anger that had stalked whirling around his skull at first had left him as soon as he wrote the letter to Aurora Whitestag, or perhaps simply dived under the surface of his mind and started brooding on its time to reemerge. He had been able to see what would happen next as if the bird were showing him images.

And, sure enough, those things had happened. Or, at least, two of them, the ones concerning Draco and Snape, had.

Draco had read the letter to Whitestag over his shoulder. There had been no way that Harry could hide what he was doing from Draco, and he rather preferred not to try. Draco had kept quiet while Harry sent the letter off with a barn owl, but then he'd loosened his tongue.

"And you're going to accept this monitoring board, Harry? Are you mad?"

"No," said Harry. He leaned against the wall of their bedroom and watched Draco. He'd awakened him when he came in and started writing the letter, but he didn't think that mattered. Neither of them could have gone to sleep at this point. Draco's eyes were wide with anger and his face was pale, and Harry could feel his anger turning around and around in the depths of his mind. It really had just dived, and it had claws and fangs, and it wanted to come out. Harry shut the trapdoor on it and watched Draco. "It's part of what must be done. If the Light purebloods wanted something else of me, then I would give them something else. This is what they want. I'm lucky, in a way, that they want this so badly that they're willing to fall in behind Aurora Whitestag."

"She doesn't lead anyone that important," said Draco dismissively. "Just that group of parents who want justice for their 'murdered' children—"

"They were murdered," Harry said, and heard the growl in his voice, and shut the trapdoor again. Pace, pace, pace, his anger went. "Whether you think Voldemort did it or I did, they were murdered."

"Mercy-killed," Draco said.

Harry shrugged. "Have you been reading the papers, Draco? Maybe it isn't as noticeable, under the discussion of the new werewolf laws, but there's always a reference somewhere, if only in a paragraph, to Aurora Whitestag and what she wants. I think she's like your mum, in some ways—she's got the political connections and the persuasive powers, even if she isn't officially Declared for Light herself. A lot of the Light purebloods will listen to her. Offer them a more balanced political Quidditch pitch along with the monitoring board, and they'll take this." I think. I hope. Harry did not like to imagine what his vates commitment and his oath to defend the werewolves might drive him to do if the Light purebloods did not accept this.

"So she might lead them," said Draco. "But it's still sacrificing part of your freedom to them."

"Part of it," said Harry. "They have to know that I'm not going to do exactly what they want; part of the bargain is their supporting werewolf rights, after all, so I'm not trading them everything for Gloriana Griffinsnest. I'm building a coalition, Draco. That means compromises on our side."

"So far," said Draco coldly, "I can't see that anyone other than you compromises."

"The werewolves have had to compromise enough," said Harry. "And the goblins, and the centaurs. And I'm not going to let the Dark wizards who've been such faithful allies to me suffer, unless they make political moves totally unrelated to the Alliance and the Light wizards make opposite ones. There's not much I can do about that, because that would be stepping on someone else's free will, too."

"So sacrifices are all right, as long as they come from you?" Draco's voice was acid now.

"I choose to make them." Harry looked steadily at him. "Did you think we could get through this without sacrifices? Even you made one. You made one of the greatest ones here, Draco, private and personal though it was. You gave up your father and his approval for me. Did you think that was the last?"

"You've given up too much already!" Draco's voice rose. "I chose to give up that wanker's approval, Harry, but you—"

"Are choosing this."

Draco fell silent, but he was still visibly seething. Harry held his eyes in a gentle gaze and shrugged.

"I'm sorry," he said. "This is the price they wanted. This is the price I chose to pay. Personally, I doubt they'll push that much, because they have to have known there are few other circumstances in which I would agree to the monitoring board at all. We'll meet in the middle and work out something that appeals to both sides."

"Both sides of what?"

Harry looked up. Snape had come through the door, his narrow gaze going from Harry to Draco. Someone must have told him about Claudia's murder, Harry thought. He wondered idly if Snape had emerged from his room when he heard the collective howls of the werewolves or Laura's swearing, or if Laura had fetched him. Harry could see her doing that. She would think that he needed a parent right now.

"Harry sent a letter to Whitestag, sir," said Draco, before Harry could say anything. "And other Light wizards. Offering them a coalition if they would help him bring down Gloriana Griffinsnest and support werewolf rights. And he accepted that monitoring board they wanted him to have."

Snape turned and glared incredulously at Harry. Harry looked straight back. He was not as tall as Snape and never would be, but right now he didn't have to be. The rage paced around its cell in his mind and snarled and snarled and snarled, and Harry knew he had to be strong enough to make decisions without its influence. He was so tempted to go to Gloriana Griffinsnest himself and rip her life away from her, and he knew he had to resist that temptation. That way lay stepping off his vates path.

"And you promised that you would try to act as a son to me," Snape whispered.

Harry staggered. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that Snape would take it that way. He wondered if Draco had thought about it, and if that was why he had included the mention of the monitoring board.

Stop it, he told himself then. Some paranoia is fine, but you can't live if you distrust the people close to you that much.

"I did promise that, sir," he said. "And I can assure you that I would never allow the monitoring board to have guardianship over me, nor to take me away from you. I would break all the agreements before that would happen. You're too important to me."

"I do not understand why you agreed to this in the first place," said Snape. His voice was a little louder now. Good, Harry thought. He found the whisper hard to cope with. It reminded him of what his own father might have sounded like, if James was ever that disappointed in something Harry had done, as opposed to something Harry had done to hurt him or Lily. "You must know that they will press, finding places where they can take more from you, using your own psychology of sacrifice against you."

"I don't think they will, sir," said Harry. "And if they try, then I'll push back, because I know it would be hurting you."

"Not because it would be hurting you."

Harry gave a short laugh. "You can't have it both ways, sir. Who does this hurt more, me or you? Are you trying to make me feel guilty for being selfish, or are you saying that I should be more selfish?"

"I am saying that you should think about yourself before the wants of Light pureblood wizards," said Snape, "allies or not."

"A purely selfish life has been impossible for me since my mother trained me," said Harry flatly, and shrugged. "If that training makes it easier for me to accept the inevitable political compromises, this is one time I'll take that."

Snape stood looking into his eyes. Harry looked back, and when Snape's Legilimency reached out to him, with a tentativeness that showed he was free to reject it and hide behind his Occlumency shields, Harry let it in, and showed Snape the caged fury, the process he'd gone through while thinking of what would probably happen with the Ministry and what he thought was likely to happen with the Light pureblood wizards, what he would allow the monitoring board to do and what he would not allow it to do.

"It's my choice if I bind myself," he said quietly, shutting his shields at last. Letting Snape see that much was his decision. Letting him see more was not. "And no one can say that is wrong."

Snape turned and simply left, shutting the door behind him. Harry doubted it was the last discussion they would have on the subject. Harry turned to Draco, who was staring at him with shadows behind his eyes.

"I did choose this," Harry insisted. "I did."

"It's still a sacrifice," Draco whispered.

Harry shook his head. "By that logic, so is everything."

He turned restlessly away. Then he paused as he saw a barn owl skimming towards the window. He went over and held out his hand, and the owl alighted on his arm. It carried an envelope with the seal of a leaping stag on it, and when Harry broke it open and read the letter inside, he could feel a smile widening across his face.

"What is it?" Draco demanded, crowding towards him.

Harry held up the letter. "She agreed," he said simply. "So did her allies. So did Scrimgeour."

He could feel something like peace welling across his soul, soothing the caged fury in his mind at last. No, I won't have everything I want, but I'll have the justice and the freedom that my allies need and deserve. That is more than enough.


Rufus surveyed the gathered members of the Wizengamot. Most of them were still yawning and bleary-eyed, but he met a few sharp gazes: Griselda Marchbanks, of course. Most of the people they had Obliviated and managed to persuade further to their side after that. Elder Juniper, damn him, frowning and folding his arms. Amelia Bones, but she was sharp-eyed the way a rabbit had to be, Rufus thought, watching out for its next predator closing the distance.

He began the way he had thought he would, telling them flatly about the murder of Claudia Griffinsnest, and then interweaving the promise of more political power for the Light with the promise of the rebellion ending, and the situation that made them look a laughingstock in the eyes of other wizarding governments finally resolved. Juniper's face darkened into a scowl as he listened, but others sat up and leaned forward. Even Amelia finally wore an expression that was not terror for the first time since the Wizengamot had gathered after the Ritual of Cincinnatus.

"As part of the bargain, Harry vates has agreed to accept a monitoring board," Rufus said. "I know that some of its members will be parents of the Dozen Who Died, but not all. There must be some Wizengamot Elders as well." He glanced at Griselda. "Madam Marchbanks, Mrs. Whitestag at one time told me that you had agreed to participate in this project."

"I did." Griselda's voice was strong and confident, but Rufus could see the doubt in her eyes. She might have agreed to sit on the board when she thought it was the best solution to the debacle between the goblins' vates and the rest of the wizarding world, but now that her friends were getting what they wanted, Rufus wondered if she regretted that decision.

"It will ease my conscience to know that you are part of this," said Rufus. "I would not have endorsed it if Harry vates himself had not chosen it." And even now I do not think it the best solution, he could have said, but he kept that part to himself. He scanned the rows of seats in the gallery. Even single member of the Wizengamot was there. That was good. No one could complain later they'd been left out of this, or didn't know what it was about. "It is certainly true that, commitment to free will or not, Harry vates is still very young, and he may have made different decisions if he had had adult guidance and counsel from both Light and Dark wizards, not only Dark. He has the Gloryflowers on his side, and the Opallines, and the Starrise heir, but they are the only Light families who have truly agreed to the Alliance of Sun and Shadow. Harry is also sadly lacking in Muggleborn and halfblood support, though he is a halfblood himself and his Alliance claims to represent them both. But we have all kinds of wizards here, and perhaps we can make the decision now and insure that Harry receives the guidance he needs and his group becomes more representative. What do the rest of the Elders say? Should we lay our power behind this?" He paused, and when no one immediately said anything, added, "We shall put it to a vote. Elder Juniper."

Juniper was quiet, thinking. Rufus could almost see him weighing the advantages of Light being able to fight Dark with the fact that it would involve voting for werewolf rights.

But Juniper had already dissented, simply refusing to vote, on the new laws the Wizengamot had passed. And perhaps he realized, or thought, that it wouldn't really matter what he said; Gloriana Griffinsnest was still likely to be tried.

"I agree," he said.

Rufus fought the temptation to close his eyes, and moved on from there. A few Elders abstained. Most accepted eagerly, almost all of them Light-devoted or Light-Declared. A few Elders voted against it, surprising Rufus; he had thought they would be content, as they had been supporters of the werewolf laws. Griselda, of course, supported it.

When that finished, with strong support for accepting Harry's compromise, Rufus nodded sharply. "Thank you, sirs, madams. I will ask that if you wish to be considered for membership in the monitoring board, you contact Harry vates, Aurora Whitestag, or our own Madam Marchbanks; I had no hand in coming up with the idea, or urging Harry to accept it." It was as much as he felt able to distance himself from this. "I will be available after this meeting in my office, however, should anyone wish to speak with me."

He did have to talk with a few people on his way out, among them Elder Juniper. The other wizard was smiling in an odd way as he faced Rufus and made a little bow with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Well-danced," he said.

"I am not sure I understand you, sir," said Rufus stiffly. Juniper was only a few years older than he was, but with a lift of an eyebrow, he could make Rufus feel like a seventh-year Slytherin caught snogging his girlfriend in the rose garden. Albus Dumbledore had once had the same effect on him.

"You took steps that must be painful for you, and never missed a one." Juniper's gaze strayed to his bad leg. "I would never have imagined that someone with such a wound could cope so well."

He bowed again, and wandered away. Rufus sighed, though under his breath, and wondered if his discomfort was going to be so visible to everyone.

He hoped not. He had received most of what he wanted, and that would have to be enough. If he thought Harry was making too many sacrifices, he would have to be patient, and watch, and interfere where he felt able to do so.

One of the Light Elders was tugging on his arm now, wanting to know something about the makeup of the monitoring board. Rufus turned to tell her to go talk to Griselda, and wondered what the morning would bring.