When the parties are deeply invested in a common cause, things progress very quickly. The very next day, Rabastan, disguised under Polyjuice Potion and accompanied by Arcturus and Lady Malfoy, visited St. Mungo's and quite soon reached an agreement with the Minister. In just three hours of heated discussions, during which Shacklebolt was highly reluctant to make concessions and Rabastan had no room to retreat. That same evening, Dumbledore, who had eyes and ears at St. Mungo's in the form of an elderly janitor from the Order of the Phoenix, came to see Shacklebolt. Using various insinuations, he tried to pry out why Narcissa was frequently visiting the Minister, who accompanied her, and why they spent so long there. Kingsley might have told him, but he was already so exhausted from sparring with Lestrange that he just waved the old man off, saying everything would be in the press tomorrow.
The next day, the media released an announcement about a truce with the former Death Eaters. Of course, it was framed in terms like "we are all citizens of one country," "people are weary of wars and conflicts," and "we need to give the repentant a chance to prove their remorse through action." By "action," they meant an epidemic that could not be dealt with without dark magic, and phrases like "not all forbidden knowledge is unconditionally harmful; it can have beneficial uses when applied wisely and under government supervision" were put out as justification.
The public was reeling. Did it really take two wars to arrive at such a simple and obvious compromise?
Dumbledore, reading the sensational news in The Prophet, was literally boiling with frustration. If there would be no more light or dark sides, how would he remain the leader of the forces of Light? How would he regain his leadership in the Wizengamot and his international prestige if he could no longer lead the fight for the Light? And if peace came to the country through the Minister's decision, would it mean that the main peacemaker in history was not Dumbledore, but Shacklebolt? How could he fight the Darkness, bring out a new Dark Lord to the stage, and then expose him if the basis of opposition itself was removed?
The great champion of the Light's life's work was going downhill.
This could not be allowed, so Dumbledore went to see Shacklebolt again. The Minister was no longer at St. Mungo's; Rabastan had cured him among the first. So the venerable elder had to go to the Ministry for an audience.
Fortunately, the Minister's personal secretary was Percy Weasley, a respectful young man, and certainly not the type to make a respected elder wait in the reception area. If it weren't for Percy, the ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts, ex-Head of the Wizengamot, and ex-Chairman of the International Confederation of Wizards would have had to make an appointment like any ordinary mortal. Considering how his previous audience had ended, Shacklebolt might not have even received him. But Percy, as before, simply informed the Minister that a great man was waiting, someone it would be impolite to delay.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was pleased with the situation at the Ministry. The initial chaos was dying down — some issues had been sorted out, some had faded away. He was healthy and fully capable of working, able to handle his responsibilities left unattended due to his stay at St. Mungo's. The only thing dampening his mood was the agreement with the Death Eaters. As a former Auror, he despised compromise and was still learning the ways of politics, essentially the art of compromise. But the Death Eaters were fulfilling their obligations, and there was nothing to fault.
"Let him in," he calmly instructed Percy.
Dumbledore entered the Minister's office with his signature dignity, his long white beard, unnaturally upright posture, and dressed in his favorite burning-purple robe adorned with large shimmering gold stars. Without waiting for permission, the former triple crown of Britain comfortably settled into a visitor's chair.
"Kingsley, my boy, I'm glad to see that you're well," Dumbledore's eyes narrowed kindly, his cheeks rounding under his beard in a benevolent smile.
"If you're here about employment again, sir, little has changed since last time," the Minister reported. "All your former positions are filled, and I won't risk alienating people by removing them from their posts without serious cause."
Dumbledore's gaze saddened, and his whole figure seemed to slump, as though bearing an unbearable weight.
"No, I didn't come about work. If I'm not needed, then I'm not needed," the former headmaster of Hogwarts said resignedly. "Kingsley, my boy, how could you? I'd expect this from anyone, but not from you. I've known you since you were eleven, back when the Sorting Hat sent you to Gryffindor. You were always a decent boy, untainted by these rotten pure-blood beliefs — and yet here you are…" he finished his sentence with a reproachful sigh.
The Minister grew gloomier with each word, but he didn't interrupt, hoping to hear what exactly he was being accused of. Receiving nothing specific, he had to ask reluctantly:
"What do you mean, sir? Speak plainly."
"Do you not even understand it, my boy?" Dumbledore looked at Shacklebolt sorrowfully, as though refusing to believe his eyes. "How could you agree to amnesty for the Death Eaters — after everything they did to the country?!"
The Minister's response had not come easily to him, and Dumbledore had practically asked him his own question. Shacklebolt found himself turning to Rabastan's arguments.
"They didn't approve of Voldemort's extremism either, but they couldn't oppose him because of the marks. Now, only a few remain, and all they want is to be left in peace. In return, they vow to cease all terrorist activities and pledge to assist the government in situations involving dark magic — like this epidemic. St. Mungo's has about a hundred patients, and others may be found at home, and my agreement will make them healthy. Furthermore, Death Eaters outside the law, driven into a corner, with their powers and knowledge, could cause plenty of trouble, while a sworn oath to cause no harm would avert all this trouble. An agreement with them would minimize the potential harm."
"But these are Death Eaters; they can't be trusted!"
"They won't break a magical oath. Their leader swore on his magic that they only want peace."
"That's what they say now, but later they'll find a loophole; you can't foresee everything. You know yourself that there's no such thing as an ex-Death Eater. This is wrong, Kingsley! With this amnesty, you're betraying the common people who entrusted you with leading the country!"
"I'm doing this for the people, sir. You could have become Minister and done as you thought best, but you always turned down the post. So we ended up with Fudge, who let the country fall apart and allowed Voldemort to seize power. Now I'm the Minister, and I make the decisions and take responsibility for them."
"It would be better if you heeded the advice of an old man, my boy…" Dumbledore shook his head and sighed as if exhausted. "Think about the moral compass of the people, that by compromising you've essentially equated good with evil and light with darkness. Perhaps people will be safe for a while, but their purity of soul will suffer, and new seeds of evil will grow in them. Is that what we fought for in the battle against evil?"
"This is a pointless conversation, sir," yet Shacklebolt's face showed that Dumbledore had managed to erode his already small confidence in the amnesty for the Death Eaters. "If you want to make ministerial decisions, become Minister. I'm ready to answer for my mistakes, but not yours, so please spare me the lecture. And now, excuse me, my time is valuable."
This time, Dumbledore chose to take the hint and leave. He knew his words had had an effect, and beyond that… water wears away stone.
Once the door closed behind the elder, the last remnants of Shacklebolt's confidence faded. He was already regretting being tempted by the healing and allowing himself to be persuaded into peace with those he'd fought all his life. The decision seemed right: the sick would recover, the threat of terrorism would disappear, and Lestrange had seemed sincere when he denounced Voldemort and swore on his magic that they wanted nothing but forgiveness and a peaceful life. It all seemed good, but where was the catch?
After all, there was no such thing as an ex-Death Eater.
The broader public reacted to the Minister's decision with, if not understanding, then indifference. After all, they had lived under Voldemort's rule for a year, and nothing happened to them — if you didn't count the Muggle-borns, who were few and always regarded with a "they've just arrived here" sentiment by the native magical citizens of Britain. Publicly supporting this policy was considered inhumane, unprogressive, and politically incorrect, but privately, many approved of it, so a dozen beggars in Diagon Alley stirred anything but sympathy.
But there was also a smaller, close-knit circle—the people Kingsley Shacklebolt interacted with regularly. This group included former colleagues from the Auror Department, members of the Order of the Phoenix, and representatives of oppressed groups, hastily recruited into the Ministry to replace Voldemort's expelled supporters. Dumbledore took the time to exchange a few words with nearly all of them, lamenting that, as painful as it was to admit, power had corrupted even someone as trustworthy as Kingsley. After sighing and nodding along with the revered elder, these people began looking at the Minister as if he were either ill or a traitor, with the bolder ones hinting at or even openly criticizing him. Some friends were indignant, others distanced themselves, and eventually, all began to drift away.
Since Shacklebolt had indeed strayed from the ideals he had grown up with, he soon felt like a traitor himself. No matter how often he tried to convince himself that it was the necessary and right thing to do, he couldn't shake the feeling of a grave mistake. Fighting enemies throughout the war, then taking on the responsibility he alone was best suited for, sparing no effort to do his utmost, only to find himself ultimately rejected by his own—this was a difficult trial to bear.
When the time came to face the consequences, the Minister was certain his agreement with the Death Eaters was an unforgivable concession to villains.