By the time Friday rolled around, she was back to being frustrated, enraged, and generally aggravated. Deciding she needed a proper view of everything and knowing that it wasn’t really related to her department, she returned home promptly at the end of the work day and spread out her information on her coffee table. Opinion pieces for and against it, transcripts of debates, the text of the proposed law itself, records of who had voted in what way, and any other related missives covered her coffee table, sofa, and the nearby floor before long. Yes, she could expand the table, but it hardly seemed to matter. She pulled her hair in frustration. She just couldn’t move enough people. Pig-headed, idiotic, bigoted people, to be precise. To be fair, she was fully aware that her supreme antagonism to the purebloods in question was unlikely to help matters, but she didn’t know what to do. 