I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix will be in bold.

Hermione's Idea

The next morning at breakfast, Charlie's anxious wonderings of what could have happened to make Voldemort so happy were answered. Upon smoothing out the front page of her Daily Prophet, Hermione gave a yelp of shock that echoed throughout the hall. Harry and Ron were quick to appear behind them at Ravenclaw Table, peering over their female friends' shoulders.

"Blimey," whispered Harry, staring in fear at the ten black-and-white photos that dominated the front page.

Charlie stared at the names captioned below the sneering images, her mouth dry. Antonin Dolohov was the name beneath a picture of a wizard with a long pale face, and his crime, listed below his name, were the murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewitt. Augustus Rookwood had been convicted of leaking Ministry of Magic secrets to Voldemort. There were seven more wizards and one witch listed on the front page and Charlie felt her heart sink as she looked at the gloating picture of Bellatrix Lestrange, imprisoned for the tortures of Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Her eyes roamed to the blazing headline, which read 'Mass Azkaban Breakout! Black Under Suspicion!'

"What?!"

Hermione elbowed her friend sharply in the side. "Sshh!" she hissed. "Just read!"

Scowling, Charlie continued reading the rest of the article.

Late last night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge announced a mass breakout of the prison Azkaban. Speaking to reporters in his private office, Fudge confirmed that ten dangerous, high-security prisoners had escaped early yesterday evening. He also said the Muggle Prime Minister had been informed of the dangerous nature of each of these individuals.

'It has not escaped our notice that this breakout greatly resembled that of Sirius Black two and a half years ago,' spoke Fudge.

Sirius Black, who had been cleared of all previous charges in trial over two years ago, is living in whereabouts currently unknown.

'We'll be sure to investigate Black thoroughly, once we are able to locate him,' assured Fudge. 'It would not surprise me if he had manage to find a way to trick Veritaserum, and it should be noted that one of the escapees is Bellatrix Lestrange, his cousin. We are doing everything we can to apprehend these prisoners, and I beg everyone to remain on alert and cautious.'

"Oh, sure, blame everything on Sirius," grumbled Charlie under her breath. "You weren't so doubtful of his innocence two years ago. Now that you need a scapegoat he suddenly seems rather suspicious."

"Not like he has any other options," said Hermione in disgust. "He needs to blame someone or else everything is going to be pinned on him. He's spent the last six months painting you and Dumbledore to be liars, and he can't admit that Dumbledore warned him that the Azkaban guards might join Voldemort."

She opened the newspaper and started reading the report inside. Charlie glanced around the Great Hall and felt a stab of annoyance when she discovered hardly anyone seemed to be scared by the news of the breakout.

"How can they talk so casually?" she grumbled, picking at her eggs. "Don't they realize Voldemort's ranks are growing?"

"It is ridiculous," agreed Ron. "I don't know what it's going to take for these people to believe you about You-Know-Who returning."

"The professors seem pretty anxious," spoke Harry, sneaking a glance at the High Table.

Charlie followed his gaze and noted Dumbledore and McGonagall locked deep in conversation. Sprout and Flitwick were pouring over their newspaper, which was propped up against a bottle of ketchup. Umbridge was sitting at the end of the table, a deep scowl on her face and shooting furious glances at the Headmaster every so often.

Hermione let out a soft gasp of horror and Charlie directed her attention back to her. "What?" she asked warily.

"More bad news, I'm afraid," she said shakily, folding the newspaper to page ten and laying it against the table so that her friends could see.

Tragic Loss of Ministry of Magic Worker

Broderick Bode, 49, was found dead in his hospital bed after being strangled by a pot plant. Healers called to the scene were unable to revive Bode, who had been injured in a workplace incident several weeks prior to his death.

Healer Miriam Strout was in charge of Bode's ward, but it was volunteer Gilderoy Lockhart, known for his popular book series, who delivered the plant. Strout has been suspended on full pay for her neglect, therefore unavailable for a comment. Lockhart has denied our request for a comment, and is still a volunteer at the hospital.

A St. Mungo's spokesperson has released a statement, however.

'We all deeply regret the passing of Mr. Bode. His health had been improving rapidly before this tragic accident.

'St. Mungo's has strict policies in relation to decorations allowed in the wards. It seems during the busy Christmas season, Healer Strout allowed Lockhart a bit more responsibility than volunteers normally have. In doing so she overlooked the plant resting on Bode's bedside table and when Bode's mobility and speaking improved, she encouraged him to look after the plant. She was unware that it was a cutting Devil's Snare and not a Flitterbloom. When Bode touched the Devil's Snare, it throttled him instantly.'

The plant is currently unaccounted for, and the hospital encourages anyone with information to come forwards. St. Mungo's promises a full inquiry further on into this investigation.

Ron furrowed his brow. "Bode…he sounds familiar."

Charlie rested her chin on the table, expression miserable. "We were there. Lockhart brought us into the ward, it's where we saw Neville's parents! We've seen Devil's Snare before, we should have known."

"It's not our fault," soothed Harry. "After all, it's not often Devil's Snare appears in hospitals. It's the fault whoever sent it. They should have known what they were buying."

"They did, Harry," said Hermione heavily. "They knew exactly what they were sending. How can you send Devil's Snare without realizing it? It was murder, a very clever murder. If it was sent anonymously, how are they ever going to find out who sent it?"

Charlie stared at the tabletop, her mind transporting her to the day of her hearing. She remembered riding the elevator, and a sallow-faced man that climbed in on the Atrium level. "On the day of my trial, I met him," she said softly. "He knew your dad."

The redhead's eyes widened in realization. "Oh yeah! Dad sometimes talked about him. He was an Unspeakable. He worked in the Department of Mysteries."

Hermione stared at the newspaper for a moment before folding it and sticking it in her bag. "I'm off to send a letter," she announced. "I'm not sure if it'll do any good, but it's worth a shot."

She hurried out of the Great Hall and Ron shook his head. "There she goes again. Wonder what she's up to this time."

"I'm sure we'll find out soon enough," replied Harry. "We better get going."

The trio stood up and started for the Entrance Hall. They joined up Hagrid, who was also on his way out. "Hey, Hagrid," greeted Ron. "What's up?"

"Nothin' much," muttered Hagrid. The injuries on his face seemed to be getting worse instead of healing. "Jus' gettin' ready for me next lesson, dealin' with some salamanders that got scale rot. Oh, an' I'm on probation."

Harry gaped. "What?"

"No more than I expected, really," sighed Hagrid. "The inspection didn' go well. See yeh, Ron, Harry, Charlie."

He lumbered outside, leaving the three to stare after him. Charlie's shoulders slumped and her mood dampened further.

Great. I'm not sure how much more bad news I can stand.

…

Over the next few days, news of Hagrid's probation was overshadowed by the ten escaped Death Eaters. Students were finally aware of the big Azkaban break, thanks to the few who actually read the news. Speculation was thrown left and right, with some believing that a few Death Eaters were hiding in the Shrieking Shack and some believing that there was a grand plan to break into Hogwarts.

Charlie found herself once again the target of whispers and stolen stares, but by now she was far too used to it to pay much mind. She did feel bad for the relatives of the victims of the Death Eaters, such as Susan Bones, whose aunt, uncle and cousins were all killed by one of the ten. She was now being regarded with a sense of awe from others.

"I don't know how you do it," Susan had told Charlie one day during Herbology. "It's awful."

Charlie understood Susan's frustrations, but she was noticing something different about the looks and whispers students directed her in the corridors. They were no longer hostile but rather curious, and Charlie felt a flare of relief by this. People were not satisfied by Fudge's report in Daily Prophet, and were now turning to the only other explanation-the one she and Dumbledore had been saying all along.

Teachers could often be found conversing intently in the corridors, huddled outside of classrooms. Conversations would immediately stop once students approached, but Charlie had a good idea of what they were talking about.

"It's not like they can talk in the staff room anymore," said Hermione as she and her friends walked down the corridor, spotting McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout speaking outside of the Charms classroom. "Not with Umbridge skulking about."

"Think they know anything?" asked Ron.

Charlie snorted. "Not like it would do any good, thanks to the newest Decree."

Almost immediately after the news of the breakout was released, Umbridge released a new decree, stating that teachers were banned from releasing any information to students that was not related to the subjects they were paid to teach.

The newest decree was the butt of many jokes by students, and when Charlie was on her way to class one afternoon she spotted Lee Jordan walking towards her, cradling his bloody hand against his chest.

"You weren't kidding," he said with a slight wince.

"Of course I wasn't," replied Charlie in exasperation. She studied his hand and was relieved to see no lasting marks. "Do you have any more detentions?"

"No. She thinks I got the point."

"What'd you do?"

Lee smirked mischievously. "I told her she had no business telling off Fred and George for playing Exploding Snap since it had nothing to do with the class material."

Charlie burst into laughter. "Okay, I have to applaud you for that one. And might I recommend essence of Murtlap?"

She had hoped Umbridge would at least be a bit humbled by the breakout from Azkaban. But it seemed to only send her in a furious frenzy to get as much control of Hogwarts as she could possibly manage. It became clear that she was determined to fire someone before long, and now it was a question of whether it would be Trelawney or Hagrid.

Every Divination and Care of Magical Creatures lesson was attended by Umbridge. The woman lurked by the perfumed fire in the North Tower, barking difficult questions at the increasingly-hysteric Trelawney and demanding her to look at her crystal ball or predict students answers before they gave them. Charlie felt bad for the woman, who she caught more than once wandering the corridors, wringing her hands with a terrified expression on her face and smelling strongly of cooking sherry.

But Hagrid wasn't doing much better than Trelawney. Though he had taken Hermione's advice, his lessons bordered on boring. He too had lost his nerve, acting jumpy and nervous and answering questions wrong. Charlie noted with dismay that he was keeping his distance from her, Ron, Harry and Hermione. He even forbade them from visiting.

"No Quidditch, no Firebolt, no letters to Sirius, and now no visits to Hagrid," muttered Charlie as they walked away from another disappointing CoMC lesson. "Great."

Her frustrations with Umbridge were astronomical. But she could not say anything, for if she did Flitwick would have her head and she knew Umbridge would jump at any opportunity to get her expelled. So she got her revenge the only way she knew how-through her DA lessons.

And man, were they paying off.

Neville was improving greatly. She suspected the escape of his parents' torturer had ignited within him a fiery determination, and she could see his dramatic improvement. In fact, everyone seemed to be spurred on by the news of the Azkaban breakout, but no one more so than Neville.

Her Occlumency lessons still continued, and she felt she was getting worse with each session, though she practiced wiping her mind blank every night. Her scar was prickling insistently now, and she dreamed of that corridor in the Department of Mysteries every time she fell asleep. She was growing annoyed, but did not speak as such to Snape, who seemed to be rather impressed with her progression, though she wasn't sure why.

On top of all of her concerns, she was swamped with homework. She would often stay up past midnight with Hermione in order to get it all done. Before she knew it February rolled in, and Valentine's Day arrived with all the third-year and up students excited for the second Hogsmeade trip.

During breakfast Hermione received a letter, which she eagerly tore open. She scanned it quickly before turning to face Charlie. "Could you meet me at the Three Broomsticks at noon?"

"Uh, sure," said Charlie in bewilderment. "How come?"

"Can't answer now, I have to answer this. Don't forget, midday, Three Broomsticks!"

Hermione jumped out of her seat and hurried off with the letter clutched in her hand. Shaking her head in amusement, she finished her breakfast and went over to the Gryffindor Table. "Hey, Ron."

The redhead looked up with a smile. "Hey. What's up?"

"We going to Hogsmeade today?"

His face fell. "Can't," he mumbled, sounding genuinely regretful. "I have Quidditch practice today."

"Gee, wish I could say that," said Charlie with a wistful sigh. "Oh well. I'm sure you'll do fine. Just don't listen to any and all Slytherins."

Ron smiled slightly. "I'll try."

He finished his breakfast and they went into the Entrance Hall together. Ron bid goodbye and went outside, towards the Quidditch pitch. Charlie met up with Harry in the queue of people filing past Filch and the two soon set off for Hogsmeade, with Charlie filling her brother in on Hermione's odd behaviour.

"What do you think that letter is about?" asked Harry.

Charlie shrugged. "Guess I'll have to wait to find out. Do you want to come with me?"

"Sure." Harry stretched his arms leisurely over his head. "It ought to be interesting."

They walked down the path and she glanced over at the Quidditch pitch, able to see Ron zooming in front of the hoops. "Man, do I miss it."

"There's always next year," said Harry optimistically.

Charlie wrinkled her nose. "I don't think I can wait that long."

"Your team plays Ron in the upcoming game, right?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah. Their practice is tonight, I think."

"Here's hoping Ron can keep it together. I don't think his pride can take another blow," sighed Harry.

They entered Hogsmeade and spent some time walking around the shops. They ran into Cho and Cedric, whom was visiting his girlfriend, and spoke for a bit. The two then walked into a coffee shop and had drink, where they talked about their homework. Charlie spent a bit of time helping Harry with his Potions essay. Soon noon rolled around and they strolled into the Three Broomsticks, where they quickly found their female friend sitting at a table with none other than Rita Skeeter and Luna Lovegood.

"Weird," whispered Harry.

The twins went over and squeezed into the booth with Hermione. "Right on time," she said cheerfully.

Rita locked eyes on Harry. "Out on a Valentine's date, eh Charlotte?"

"No," said Charlie patiently.

"That's not what we're here for, anyway," said Hermione sharply.

Rita glared at the girl, but did not press further. Unemployment did not suit her, for she was looking much less glamorous since Charlie last saw her. Her hair was limp around her face and her nails long and chipped. She took a long gulp of her drink and looked at Hermione with a glower.

"So, what did you call me here for?"

Hermione pointed at Charlie. "I'm sure you're looking for the next big story. Charlie doesn't normally talk to reporters for obvious reasons, but today she's going to tell you all about Voldemort and his return."

Rita stared at her with wide eyes. "You're going to let me write a story on everything she has to say about You-Know-Who?"

"That's right. She'll give you all the details, the names of the Death Eaters she saw that night in the graveyard and what Voldemort looks like now."

Rita sloshed her drink slightly at the second mention of Voldemort's name and grimaced slightly. "Well, I'm afraid people won't be interested in something like that. If I could write from the angle of it being a product of her delusional mind-"

"There's enough of that going around," said Hermione coldly. "We're going to tell the truth."

"The Prophet isn't going to print something like that," scoffed Rita.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Because Fudge won't allow it?"

"Partly," admitted Rita reluctantly. "He's leaning on the Prophet pretty heavily. But it's also because people aren't interested in a story like that. The Azkaban story has people spooked. They don't want to believe he's really back."

Luna looked up, her expression dreamy. "My father says the Prophet is a horrible paper. He thinks the public needs to know the truth, so that's what he prints. He believes in the truth."

Rita snorted. "Oh, and what small-town rag does he run?"

"The Quibbler."

Rita laughed so hard she spilt some more of her drink. Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Well, if you find it to be so dismal, this is your chance to add some class to the publication, isn't it?"

Rita abruptly stopped laughing. "Excuse me? You think anyone will take what Charlotte has to say seriously if it's in The Quibbler?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but if it's in an unusual magazine, I bet some people will be rather interested in reading it, especially if it offers a better explanation concerning the Azkaban breakout," said Hermione calmly.

Rita crossed her arms, expression speculative. "What's my fee?"

"Oh, I don't think Daddy pays people to write for him," replied Luna.

"I'm supposed to do this for free?"

"No."

Hermione and Harry looked at Charlie in surprise. The raven-haired removed a handful of Galleons from her pocket and slid them across the table towards Rita. "Charlie-"

"She's a journalist, and if she's writing us an article, she should get paid for it," replied Charlie. She locked eyes with Rita and added, "If I like what you write, I'll pay you more. If I don't, I'm sure you know what Hermione will do."

Rita raked the Galleons into her handbag, her expression less bitter and less reluctant. "I always knew I liked you."

Charlie was bemused, and Hermione huffed slightly. "Fine," she grumbled. "I suppose if you want to, you can pay her. But are you okay with this?"

She nodded firmly. "Definitely. Fire away, Rita. Don't hold back."