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Chapter Forty-Two: The Monitoring Board
Harry wasn't surprised when the werewolves didn't follow him inside the Ministry. The moon would be rising soon, and though they'd taken Wolfsbane, confined corridors were not the best place for several large wolves. Harry did think about riding back up in the telephone box to charm them invisible so that no Ministry lackeys or Muggles would take it into their heads to hunt them, but Draco's arm closed around his waist when he mentioned that plan.
"Laura Gloryflower's with them, Harry," he said calmly. "Or was. I saw her walking around the corner of the alley just as the telephone box started to lower us. She'll Apparate them back to Woodhouse, charm them invisible, or do whatever else needs to be done."
Harry pondered that for a moment, then nodded and relaxed back against Draco's arm. "You're right," he said. "I should be thinking more about facing Whitestag and the parents of the Dozen Who Died, shouldn't I?"
Draco gave him an odd look.
"What?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," Draco murmured, though the look on his face was so odd that Harry thought it had to be more than nothing. But he gave Harry silence, so they reached the Atrium without Harry becoming any wiser.
There, they found Aurora Whitestag waiting for them. A few other men and women stood behind her, people Harry didn't know, but he found it hard to look at anyone save her. He wasn't sure if that was the result of magic, the importance he knew she would hold in his life in the future, charisma, or all three. She was one of those people who could command attention by the way she stood, though, and she was doing it now.
"Hello, Madam Whitestag," said Harry, deciding that formality was the best way to handle her. If nothing else, it would show that he wasn't reluctant to offer her respect, and she did technically hold a title now that she was part of the monitoring board. "I am sorry to have kept you waiting. The British Red-Gold is settled in the Hebridean Black sanctuary now."
One of the women behind Aurora started to say something uncomplimentary, but Aurora held up a hand, and she fell silent. Harry studied her eyes. They were dark and serene. I will have to learn what invisible leashes she has everyone else on, Harry decided. Is the basis of her control the way she speaks? What she thinks? What she knows? Or something else? He knew it couldn't be magical power. Aurora was considerably less powerful than Snape, and perhaps even weaker than Draco was, though any comparison of a teenage wizard and an adult wizard was hard to make.
"It is of no moment, Harry," said Aurora gently. "What matters is that you're here now, and willing to work with me and Madam Marchbanks to choose the members of the monitoring board. I trust that you are ready to work with us?"
Harry nodded firmly. He was very tired, having been up two days and one night now, but he wouldn't let himself think of it, or use his magic, which might go wonky with his weariness. He would make the best decisions he could, and listen to Madam Marchbanks if he had any doubts.
"Good." Aurora smiled at him and turned towards a small door Harry hadn't seen before, located in a corner of the Atrium not far from the gates. He'd always thought there were only Floo connections there, for Ministry employees to come in and out. The small gathering of witches and wizards behind Aurora followed her steps, so Harry and Draco did, too. He was aware of some of the strangers looking askance at Draco's arm around his waist. Harry ignored that. They could think what they liked. If it crossed into the realm of action or words, he would sit on them.
One of the women did open her mouth, but Aurora glanced back, caught her eye, and shook her head.
She's dangerous. She must have heard a small gasp, felt a twitch, something. I'll have to be careful how I deal with her. Harry worked up as much resolve as he could. A night without sleep wasn't his greatest problem, here. The sheer variety of experiences the day had offered him was. He had sung a phoenix song, signed a treaty signaling the end of a rebellion, ridden a dragon north, and Apparated back to the Ministry again. Now he was going to negotiate, which was something he hadn't done so far today. Harry thought he would have preferred to ride another dragon.
He reminded himself that, looked at in a certain light, this was riding a dragon. He had to keep track of shifting currents of wind and the dragon's flame, and ignore certain other things that were not as important. He was quite sure that Aurora would manage to sneak certain conditions past him, or have people on the board that Harry would not have chosen for himself, because they seemed neutral on the surface and truly weren't. But what he wanted was to make sure that he had some Light wizards in the Alliance, that they swore the oaths, and that they would not unduly restrict him from his vates tasks.
For that, he could put up with—
And then Draco set his feet and shook his head, perforce pulling Harry to a stop as well. Harry blinked at Draco. The room they were about to enter looked perfectly ordinary. There was a long table in the center of it, surrounded by carved chairs that Harry thought had been conjured; they were too fine for the normal run of Ministry furniture. Madam Marchbanks sat at one end, in the middle of a cluster of three seats. Harry knew that he and Aurora would take the other two.
"What's the matter?" he asked Draco.
"Professor Snape isn't here," Draco said.
Harry blinked again, then said, "No one said that Snape would be choosing the members of the monitoring board—"
"But he can be present when you choose them," said Draco flatly. "And he bloody well will, Harry, or I'm hitting you with a sleeping charm now." He said the last in such a fierce whisper that Harry was fairly sure no one else heard him.
A hissing trail of yellow light curled around Harry's fingers—his magic getting out of control with his temper. He tamed it. He didn't want to hurt someone. And the more he thought about it, the more he winced at the thought of Snape being left out of these negotiations. He would think Harry had chosen guardians to spite him. And he would certainly distrust most of them, and examine the wording of the treaty again and again, looking for sore spots.
"Very well," he said, and shrugged apologetically at Aurora as she turned around to look at him. "Sorry, Madam. I want to call my guardian and make sure that he can join us and speak for me."
"I would prefer that you not call him," Aurora replied, voice just this side of censure. "He intimidated several of my people merely by his appearance in the alley today. I fear we will not make fair, unbiased decisions if he is in the room with us."
Harry started to reply, but Draco's voice got there first, harsh and cold as grinding ice floes. "Harry is sixteen," he said. "Not of age yet by the common wizarding standard. And Professor Snape is his guardian. He will be with him for something this important. You should know this, Madam Whitestag, since you are, after all, a stickler for rules, and laws, and justice."
Aurora studied Draco for a long moment, then said, "I'm well aware of Harry's age, Mr. Black." She nodded to Harry. "Summon your guardian, then."
Harry tapped his left wrist and murmured the communication spell, and heard Snape's voice respond at once, tight and eager as a racing hound's. "Harry? You have returned?'
"Yes, sir. I'm in the doorway of a small room in the Atrium—"
"I know it. I am coming." And the communication spell cut off. Harry could feel himself flushing dully under Aurora's eye. She did not look condemning, not precisely, but he felt rather like a student who had insisted on having his parents with him when he faced the Headmistress over a minor infraction of Hogwarts rules.
"The last I heard of Professor Snape, he was rather—upset," said Aurora, with the air of one hunting for a delicate word and finally settling on an inadequate substitute for what she really meant. "Are you sure it's wise to have him in a room with other people who might make you feel uncomfortable even if they don't mean to, Harry?"
Harry sighed. "He's past that now, in large part, Madam. And Draco is right. I'm sixteen, and my guardian should be with me."
Aurora said nothing, but simply stood with them, obviously more than willing to wait. Her companions had filed past her and found themselves seats about the table. Harry struggled not to shift from foot to foot, or, for that matter, to lean against Draco as if seeking comfort. He had to impress these people, so he stood as straight as he could and with as much of a cold expression on his face as he could muster. It was easier once he remembered what Lily might have told him to do if he was in a case concerning Connor, and then the self-consciousness fell away. He wrapped himself in a cold shell, and nothing could hurt him.
It truly did not take long for Snape's footsteps to sound up beyond the gates, and then he was there, his eyes flitting over Harry's face as though looking for signs of damage taken in the hours since they had parted. Then his left hand gripped Harry's shoulder. Harry managed to conceal his start, but he'd been gone far enough into the coldness that being touched felt strange.
And he knew Snape was keeping his right hand free so that he could use his wand. That annoyed him.
"Let us begin," said Snape. "Helcas and the others who wish to be considered for membership in the monitoring board are following me, but they said that they wanted to speak with the Minister first, and they care little about which humans sit the board. They are more interested in those humans' actions. Attempting to control their vates, for example."
Aurora gave Snape a flat, unreadable look, and gestured into the room. "After you, Mr. Snape."
Aurora had to admit to being rather nonplused as they all finally, finally, sat down at the table where they should have sat the moment Harry Apparated in. The reports she had received from Hogwarts said that Snape was a broken man. Everyone agreed on it, students from all four Houses. He could barely teach Potions. He certainly could not defend the vates he claimed as his son in an environment like this. Since he would cast curses at everyone who looked at him sideways, Aurora was within her rights to ask for him to be excluded.
And now, this. Aurora didn't think his façade was perfect; there was strain that might show if he was pressed. But she did think that he would watch their candidates so closely that some of the people she needed on the monitoring board might not make it. He would object to any Light wizard, almost certainly.
So vexing.
But she knew how to respond to vexation. One stepped back and thought of new plans. And so she watched as Harry moved to the head of the table to take the chair on the left side of Madam Marchbanks, while his guardian and his lover sat on the left of him. She saw the yawn that Harry could not quite conceal, and the way his partner all but bent over him, and the mistrustful looks that Snape was giving everyone in the room, even those undeclared witches and wizards who were here because they thought the safety of the wizarding world a good idea.
Aurora smiled a bit. It may be true that Harry is sixteen years old and needs his guardian with him, but he is an adult in that he makes adult decisions, and we are granting him an adult part in the monitoring board and the selection of its members. He doesn't need to be shepherded, or watched as if he were going to break an arm on the way to his chair.
Treat Harry like an adult, insist on his opinions and not the opinions of his guardian and lover, and Aurora thought this would work. Harry was obviously tired, and would miss some things. That meant that the monitoring board could do what it needed to do, rather than what Snape and Lucius's son wanted it to do.
Aurora shut the door and moved around the table to take the chair on Marchbanks's right.
"I think we should begin with consideration of Light wizards," said Madam Marchbanks. "Since, after all, part of the original purpose of this monitoring board is to introduce more Light wizards into the vates's councils."
Draco sat back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. He couldn't quite stop looking at Whitestag—he knew she was up to something—but he forced himself to. The first candidate was sitting up at the end of the table, consciously shifting in her chair. This was obviously something the Light's running dogs had planned. And Harry wasn't ready to deal with this yet, Draco thought, as Harry concealed another yawn. He should have been in bed.
But they would insist on this now, and even fully conscious, Harry might have allowed through some of the witches and wizards Snape and Draco would disqualify. That was all right. That was one reason they were here: to be the suspicious Slytherin bastards Harry couldn't be when he was making a good faith effort.
"I agree," said Whitestag. "And the first candidate of the Light is Lisa Addlington."
"Is this wise?" Snape asked, even before Draco could raise an objection. "I know that Mrs. Addlington's son died beside the lake." He gave her a shallow nod that couldn't really be interpreted as sympathy, Draco thought. "Grief may drive her to make her decisions, rather than interest in the safety of the wizarding world or my son."
"I think I may speak for myself, thank you," said Addlington, with a sniff. Draco didn't like her. Not only was she Declared for Light, but she had a manner of tossing her head that he thought was affected. Only much younger women should do that, and Addlington's face wasn't of the pureblood, elegant mode that would allow a witch like Narcissa to get away with the dramatic expression she was trying now. "I will not allow grief for my dead son to control my actions. I do think that power should be used safely and responsibly, always, and what happened beside the lake was neither safe nor responsible."
"Do you know what happened there?" Snape's voice was low, and remarkably ugly, Draco thought. "If you had the slightest idea—"
"I think Mrs. Addlington knows," said Draco, with a faint smile at the witch and a warning shake of his head at Snape. They would accomplish nothing if all they did was insult the lapdogs of the Light. "But I am less clear why she should be a member of the monitoring board. Having lost a child is qualification enough?" He put a politely inquiring frown on his face and looked at Whitestag.
She was watching him as though she were really noticing him for the first time. Draco resisted the temptation to preen or stretch at the attention.
She may see me as dangerous now, but I'll be even more so if I don't let on that I noticed her noticing.
"Mrs. Addlington has lost a child," said Whitestag, with a degree of control that made Draco wonder how she could stand to surround herself with all these fools. She was a pureblood witch with composure Lucius might envy, or at least the ability to pretend to it. It must hurt, to see the rest of her circle so unskilled in acting. "And she is of the Light. And she is committed to the future change of the wizarding world." Her eyes grew half-lidded, and her voice took on the tone of a mother scolding her child. "And I must ask, Mr. Black, that you refrain from interfering. The final decision for each member of the monitoring board must be made by Madam Marchbanks, the vates, and myself."
Draco didn't allow himself to react to the last name she'd given him. It was true that, technically, until Lucius confirmed him as his legal heir again, Draco's last name was his mother's. Most wizards, however, would be courteous enough to ignore that and refer to Draco by the last name he'd been born to. Whitestag was making a point.
He made one back. "I was unaware that objecting to a possible choice not yet made by the monitoring board constituted interfering," he said. "Strange, that critical thinking and the Light seem so often hostile to one another."
"Draco, please," said Harry, with weariness in his tone that made Draco look sharply at him. His eyes were shadowed, but he watched Lisa Addlington keenly enough. "I'd at least like Mrs. Addlington to explain what kind of commitments she's made to future changes in the wizarding world."
"I've continued to invest my money in Gringotts, despite the new demands made by the southern goblins," Addlington said stoutly. "I do think that humans and magical creatures should live together, not apart. I've tried to persuade some of the other parents who lost children to Harry's magic that taking vengeance wouldn't do any good, because he's the Boy-Who-Lived, and we need him."
Draco bristled. He saw Harry blink once, as if absorbing the blow of her words, and then nod. "You have the knowledge that you'll be required to work with magical creatures, at least," he said. "And that is a prerequisite for swearing the oaths of the Alliance and becoming part of the monitoring board. Will you swear the oaths now, even before you become part of it?"
"I will," said Addlington, and drew a knife from a pocket in her robes.
Draco could almost feel Snape getting ready to breathe a curse beside him. Harry forestalled them both. "Mrs. Addlington," he said, "we do not swear by blood in the Alliance of Sun and Shadow. It might create an unfortunate precedent. We use words alone."
The woman blinked at him, and Draco was at least pleased that Harry had managed to disconcert her on his own. "What are the oaths, then?" she asked slowly, laying down the knife. "And what are the consequences for breaking them?"
"I will drain your magic," said Harry. As the first time he had said it, Draco was terribly impressed by the level tone Harry managed in that threat. He could do it, and he would do it. He had no need for elaborate torture.
"I understand," said Mrs. Addlington. "And the oaths?"
Harry sat up. Draco could almost see him throwing weariness off like a cloak. A bit of his magic woke up and curled about his shoulders in a blanket of pale mist. Whitestag drew back from him, Draco was pleased to note. He should be the only one who found Harry's magic not frightening at all.
"I swear to be part of the Alliance of Sun and Shadow until I can in good conscience be part of it no longer. I swear to hold loyalty and allegiance to my allies, no matter who they are, no matter how much magic they have, no matter what kind of magic they use. I swear to hold the space of my own mind sacred, to make decisions as best as I can based on thought instead of reaction, to test my own beliefs until they shatter or until they prove themselves solid. I swear not to let fear rule me. I swear to walk among interacting freedoms, to study the impact of my own free will on others', and to think of the consequences of my actions."
Harry said that all as if he were delivering a self-evident truth—the way that he probably thought of the Grand Unified Theory, Draco thought, with a slight grimace. But this wasn't the Grand Unified Theory. This was an oath that he had sworn himself, and held to, when he made his decision, and not out of fear. The more Draco thought about it, the more he could see that he'd sworn to and kept those oaths. He wondered if Addlington would be able to say the same.
Falteringly, Addlington repeated the words, guided patiently through them by Harry. Draco concealed his sneer as best he could. No, she's not worthy of the title of pureblood, not if she can't memorize something that simple in a few seconds.
When that was done, Harry smiled at her. "Welcome to the Alliance. I do want more Light wizards and witches within it." He turned to Madam Marchbanks. "Do you have any objections to her, Madam?"
Broodingly, the old woman studied Addlington and then reluctantly shook her head. She wanted to protect Harry's safety, Draco thought, but that was hard when he seemed out to sabotage it. He knew exactly how she felt.
"Good," said Harry. "Lisa Addlington is accepted as a member of the monitoring board, then."
Draco saw Whitestag smile, and he wanted to say something. But he could never have come up with the words that Snape did a moment later, the perfect words to stop the stupid choices in their tracks.
"Perhaps we should define the extent of the monitoring board's supervision?" Snape murmured. "How much it might oversee Harry's actions, how much he must consult with them, what they reserve the right to veto and what they do not?"
"I think that an excellent idea," said Whitestag. "And since there is so far only one accepted member of the monitoring board, beyond the three of us who make the decisions, I think it appropriate that all other candidates, as well as those involved in, ah, overseeing the process, wait outside the room."
Harry could see what Aurora was doing. He was a bit surprised that it had taken her so long to object to Draco and Snape's presence, really.
He met her eyes and said pleasantly, "Really, now, Madam, I see no reason for that. This monitoring board, and the fact that it exists and will help me make decisions to control my behavior, is a matter of public record. We do not need to keep its function and the extent of its power secret."
Aurora hesitated for the briefest of moments, but she must have already chosen her tactic, because she moved swiftly. "Of course, you are right, Harry," she murmured. "I only thought that, as an adult and someone who is capable of making adult decisions, you would prefer to have such private matters, well, private. The relationship between a leader and his advisers is rather intimate. Adults do not need to be disciplined in public."
Make me seem and feel like a child, Harry thought. And leave me with no other option but to send Snape and Draco away, if I don't want to look weak. Clever. But she should have done it earlier. Draco already set this context up by demanding that Snape be here, as my legal guardian, and she was the one who emphasized my age when she spoke to the paper.
"As you have so often said, Madam, I cannot be trusted to act on my own as yet," he said, flavoring his voice with regret. "If I were completely adult, then I would have found some way out of the situation by the lake, and I would have no need of the monitoring board at all. As it is, I am only a sixteen-year-old with power, both magical and political, far beyond what might be expected of someone my age, and I need adult guidance and help. That includes the guidance and help of the adult I trust most." He leaned backwards towards Snape without taking his eyes off Aurora. "And, of course, if the other candidates truly want to become part of the monitoring board, they need to know what their duties will be."
Aurora didn't show any sign of defeat. Harry hadn't thought she would. She simply nodded, as though she had expected everything to work out like this all along, and murmured, "Of course, vates. And now, how much adult guidance and help do you think is necessary to control your actions?"
Finally. Harry kept himself from breathing a sigh of relief, but it was a near thing. This was another reason he had been able to agree to the suggestion of a monitoring board where he hadn't been able to agree to the suggestion of a trial. Standing before the Wizengamot for crimes he could not convince himself were crimes would be a farce and add nothing to his vates task in the end. But a monitoring board could help him by giving him extra pairs of eyes when he began to tread a downward slope.
"I have made decisions that I would consider to be wrong," said Harry. "Sometimes, as beside the lake, I do not know what right decision I could have made. But another pair of eyes, or several pairs, could help me see a way out of this. Recognize the limits of personal power, and show me where integrity lies. Teach me where illegal is not another word for 'the whim of those in power,' but does happen to coincide with 'moral.' Show me aspects of Light pureblood culture I might have ignored in my haste to embrace the Dark."
"Forgive me, Harry," said Aurora, voice low and smooth and concerned. "I was convinced that you were familiar with Light pureblood culture, as your father is a Light pureblood wizard."
Harry shook his head, and ignored the way Snape's hand tightened on his shoulder. There was nothing he could do about Snape's personal dislike of James right now. "Not in detail, Madam. Lily Potter never thought I had to learn the specific rituals, because I would not need them to build alliances with other families. Connor's dedication to the Light would be enough."
"Then teaching you those courtesies and rituals must be part of the duties of the board, of course," Aurora murmured. "And having myself and Mrs. Addlington on it may teach you ways out of decisions like the one you made by the lake. I have to admit, Harry, I have been over the situation many times in my own mind, and I do not see what else you could have done." She ignored the muted noises from some of the other people in the room, keeping her gaze on Harry. "So I believe the problem is one of fundamentals. We should not have depended on you so much in the first place. You should not have had to take up a burden better settled on the shoulders of adults."
Harry could hear the passion in her voice, and suspected she was telling the truth. She was not blinded by the Boy-Who-Lived legend, then, or at least she was more than aware of the Boy part.
"I wish I had not had to," he said simply. "But I am vates now, and leader of the Alliance, and several other positions that I cannot give up. The monitoring board will not ask me to do that."
"Of course not," said Aurora, and Harry realized that had not been a concern for her. He would have to judge her more carefully, he reminded himself, so that he could learn more about what she wanted and not what he thought she wanted. "We will ask you to come to us when you make decisions that could have political consequences in the wizarding world. If you move specifically within a single magical creature species, that is not a problem. But since you are a political leader at such a tender age, you need the wisdom of older and more political wizards."
Harry stifled his impatience. She is only right, only speaking from a position of truth as she sees it. "And what about those decisions that must be made quickly, Madam? I could hardly have consulted with the whole monitoring board about leaping onto the dragon's back today."
"Ah," said Aurora. "But if we handle this correctly, such situations will become less frequent, Harry. I do not think it ridiculous to ask that when you hear about something happening at a distance—for example, a dragon raiding in Ireland, if such a disaster ever happens—that you come to us and ask."
"Even if stopping the dragon would have no political consequences for the wizarding world?" Harry asked.
"Of course," said Aurora. "Because your death would have enormous political consequences for us all, Harry. A negotiation or a web-lifting within a magical creature species, as I understand it, does not endanger your life. But a situation that threatens your safety? Yes, I think I must insist that you consult with us." She looked over Harry's head, and he turned to see Madam Marchbanks nodding.
Of course she would, Harry thought, frustrated. She makes it sound so reasonable. None of them understand that sometimes my life is a tool like the rest of me, like my freedom or my magic, to be used to do what must be done.
He felt teeth close on his ear, a reminder that his magic, at least, didn't like being thought of in such a way. Harry hid a grimace, and wondered how he would reconcile using his magic for enjoyment with what the monitoring board wanted him to do.
"Very well," he said. "I agree to that. If the situation crosses over into the wizarding world and would endanger my life, I will consult you."
Aurora smiled. "Good. And of course, we must think more carefully about the balance between Light and Dark on the monitoring board—"
"And the balance of species," Harry said, as the door opened and Helcas entered, followed by Bone. "And the balance of blood, I would say. Madam, do you have any Muggleborn or halfblood candidates waiting?"
"Several." Aurora ignored the confusion that stirred in the rest of the room, as her cronies tried to accommodate a centaur and a northern goblin at the table. Harry was amused to see Helcas simply take over a seat that had sat empty between two wizards, while Bone stood behind him and scowled at the walls as if he didn't like the way they shut him in. "Would you like to meet them?"
"Yes," said Harry. "I would."
Aurora gestured a wizard forward who had short brown hair and a permanent squint; Harry thought he probably needed glasses and refused to have them. "This is Marvin Gildgrace," she said. "His father is Muggle, and his mother a pureblood witch." She smiled at him. "Tell us why you'd like to be a member of the monitoring board, Marvin."
"I've thought a lot about this," said Marvin. His voice was abrupt and grated on Harry's ears, but that, he told himself, wasn't a good enough reason to dislike someone. "I've read about Ministry laws, although I've never worked in the Ministry myself. I can tell you when something is illegal, Mr. Pott—that is, vates. And what the consequences are likely to be of breaking the laws." He blinked hopefully, and leaned forward. "And how to deal with them, of course," he said in a low voice, with a nod to Helcas and Bone. "And what options they have when dealing with wizards."
"They're in the same room we are, Mr. Gildgrace," said Harry. "Why don't you speak to them?"
Marvin blinked as though that had never occurred to him, then turned and repeated what he had said to Helcas and Bone. Helcas didn't bother to respond, simply looking at his claws as if he thought they needed to be trimmed. Bone stared straight at Marvin and said nothing.
"I don't want to accept him," said Harry. "Prejudices against magical creatures don't make him a good recommendation to me."
"There are few other halfblood candidates," said Aurora, and smiled at him.
"I'm not prejudiced!" Marvin protested at the same time.
Harry sighed, and settled down to the dickering.
It was past midnight when they left the room. Harry stumbled on his way into the Atrium. The lack of sleep was catching up with him, and the lack of food. The cup of tea he'd felt necessary to take while he was with Gerald MacFusty was the only nourishment he'd had for too long a time—he couldn't remember when he'd last eaten, actually, since his stomach had been wound too tight with anxiety to do so this morning—and he wanted to go back to Woodhouse, eat, and rest. Draco's arm around his waist was more than welcome, now.
But they had accomplished what they set out to accomplish. The monitoring board had eleven Light wizards and witches on it, three of them halfblood, one Muggleborn, and only Lisa Addlington one of the parents of the Dozen Who Died. All had sworn the Alliance oaths, all had said they would not interfere in his vates work but would help him with Light pureblood courtesies and Ministry law and the "Light perspective," and all had been approved by all three of them.
Harry was quietly disgusted that Marvin Gildgrace was a sitting member at all, but he had said again and again that he had nothing against any other species, and he was one of the few halfblood candidates, and there was nothing incriminating in his past. Harry had been all but compelled to accept him, especially when Aurora had agreed without pause to let an equal number of Dark wizards have a place on the board. She had even mentioned that she would particularly welcome the additions of Narcissa Malfoy, Hawthorn Parkinson, and Adalrico Bulstrode, which meant Harry was left, again, uneasily convinced that she was far more clever than he'd thought.
Madam Marchbanks had raised hardly any objections, except to a woman who'd turned out to have been sacked by the Ministry for theft. And she had welcomed Helcas and Bone, as well, of course, as an unnamed southern goblin representative who would not be the hanarz. Because Helcas, Bone, and this goblin were the only candidates of their species who offered themselves, Aurora accepted them as well.
So the monitoring board was mixed, and would help him with matters where Harry feared he might abuse his own power. It was really the best solution he could have hoped for.
"He's asleep on his feet," Draco's voice said quietly, close to his ear. "Do you think, sir—"
"Yes," said Snape, and then picked him up. Harry could only decide that they must be safely out of eyeshot of any of their tentative allies. He would never have made Harry look weak like that in front of them.
"I can walk, sir," he murmured. And he could. He could open his eyes and walk and make political statements. He just preferred not to right now.
"Call me Severus," Snape murmured into his ear. "I did ask that of you. If you can walk, you can do that."
Harry sighed. "Very well. I can walk, Severus." He tried to open his eyes, but someone's hands seemed to be pressing on them and keeping them shut. He yawned.
Snape put him on an expanse of warm muscle that felt like Bone's back. Harry opened his mouth to ask if Bone had actually offered to carry him, and then slid into sleep in a simple, uncomplicated manner. He never felt the Apparition.
"But do you actually think we can keep control of him?" Lisa stood in the room off the Atrium when the others had gone, looking expectantly at Aurora.
Aurora clucked her tongue at her. "Of course we can," she said. "And it's not about keeping control, anyway, Lisa. Do you control a storm? Do you control a dragon? You can bridle them and turn them, perhaps, but not control them. So we teach him to run along a more confined path, instead of making his own by destroying everything and everyone who stands in his way."
Lisa nodded slowly. "And you really think that we'll be able to achieve that, with the way this board is set up?"
Aurora thought of the many times she had nearly seen Snape draw his wand to curse someone during the meeting. She thought of the passion in the eyes of Harry's Malfoy lover—protective passion, of course, but still too mixed with apolitical considerations to be truly effective. She thought of the glances exchanged among many of the board members when Harry had insisted that other magical species be granted a few seats, and that at least some of the Dark candidates be werewolves. She thought of the way Harry had accepted the offers made in good faith as made in good faith, and what she had heard of and seen in the way he interacted with people, gradually relating more and more to them as individuals and less and less as representatives of a particular interest.
A friend would be able to give more and broader advice, on many other topics than the monitoring board had limited itself to.
"I do," said Aurora, and smiled.
