"Comfy?"

"It's, ah, a little tight."

"I like to think of it as 'cosy'."

Mandy squirmed, trying to contort herself in a way that wasn't an unnatural position. "How much longer are we going to stay here?"

"Not much longer."

"You said that ninety minutes ago!"

"Who's in charge here? You, or me?" Rita Skeeter asked. "Now keep quiet!"

Mandy sighed, but didn't speak again. A trickle of sweat slipped down her collar. She felt like she was suffocating in here!

"It hasn't been ninety minutes. You're exaggerating."

"It has so!"

"I didn't see you cast a tempus. It's unlikely I wouldn't have noticed."

"Yea? Well- shh! Someone's coming!"

They both went still at the sound of a door opening, footsteps approaching and then the 'whump' of someone sitting on the fine leather sofa outside. The scratch of a match preceded the acrid scent of cigar smoke.

"It was a fine meal, wasn't it?"

"Indeed, and this smoke is magnificent! You never settle for anything less than the best, sir!"

"Well the night isn't over, Frederick. Pour us a drink, won't you?"

The 'clink' of ice cubes in a glass was audible, followed by the pop of a house elf's arrival. "Would master like the entertainment now?"

"Yes, bring them in."

"What's all this, Mr. Ogden?"

"Just a thank you for shooting down the proposed tax increase on liquor. It's a pleasure to know there are still good, reasonable men like you in the Wizengamot. I-"

Rita threw open the door to the closet they huddled in, and Mandy had her camera up and ready, the flash blinking as she documented Tiberius Ogden and Frederick Fawley's shocked faces, along with three girls who couldn't be more than a year out of Hogwarts. The girls were dressed in flimsy, see-through robes.

"Mr. Ogden, Lord Fawley, I'd love to ask you a few questions."

Fawley's face drained of colour, while Ogden's slowly turned purple. "Skeeter! This is trespassing! I'll have you arrested!"

Rita straightened her acid-green glasses, tapping her quill against a roll of parchment. "Really? If that's your official statement, okay. I suppose I can fill my column describing the scene, instead." She made an obvious show of looking the scantily-clad witches over.

"I- I'd be willing to sit down for an interview," Fawley said in a pained, defeated voice.

"Excellent!"

Mandy could only shake her head while Rita sat down next to Ogden on the sofa, snapping her fingers for a glass of Old Ogden's finest. While the two men stumbled through their responses, Mandy quietly spoke with the girls, handing out her business card to each of them for Rita to potentially follow up with.

What a scoop!


"Make sure those photos are developed and on my desk by the day's end," Rita said, yawning and stretching her arms over her head. "Good work tonight, by the way."

"Thanks!" They were almost to the Prophet's offices, having walked back to Diagon Alley from the gentlemen's club in Knockturn. "How'd you know they'd be there?"

"I slip some gold to every madam in the British Isles. It's paid off more times than I can count."

"Yuck. I don't know how you deal with people like that." Mandy made a face at the very thought.

Rita raised a single eyebrow at her condescension, waiting until Mandy opened the door for her to reply with a plastic smile. "You're far too plain to be so judgmental, sweetie. A little more time on your back might loosen you up."

"What?!" Mandy spluttered with indignation. "Excuse me? I'm plenty- I resent the implication. I have a boyfriend. I don't need to 'loosen up'."

"You took this job because you wanted to learn from the best investigative reporter in the British Isles." she said. "Not because I'm going to hold your hand and change your nappies. You think you're going to keep your hands clean doing this job? Wise up! The people you look down your nose at are often the very ones who have the information you're looking for."

"Okay, got it." Somewhat grudgingly, Mandy nodded. She deserved that. "When will you run the story?"

"Two days. I want to do some more background on any public remarks the two of them made on this topic. It'll also give them the chance to throw some juicy gossip my way, try and do some damage control."

"Are you sure you want to wait so long?" This would be a huge scandal. "What if they try to stop publication?"

"And how would they do that?"

"They could lean on the editor."

"The war's over, and the Prophet's not the only game in town any longer." That was true, at least. With the increased reputation The Quibbler gained during the war, nearly a half-dozen new daily publications had sprung up in Magical Britain. The value of a 'second opinion' had never been higher than after several years of Ministry-controlled media.

"They could try and stop you from running the article."

"You mean threaten me? Me?" Rita laughed. "Oh, sweetie. People have been trying to silence me for years and haven't succeeded yet. How do you think I survived the likes of Lucius Malfoy and Dolores Umbridge? I've taken steps to ensure my safety. I've got enough dirt stored away to make any wizard of means think twice before making a move against me."

It was times like these that Mandy remembered why she volunteered to work with this woman. Her boss was one of the most powerful women in the country! "What do you think will happen with Ogden and Fawley?"

Rita took a seat at her desk, and Mandy pulled up a chair to join her. "I think the tax issue'll get added onto the next piece of legislation, this time with a few extra percentage points."

She waited, but Rita didn't continue. "That's it?"

"Well, yes. Why?"

"They- they were abusing the system! It was rank corruption! They should go to jail, or at least be sacked!"

"Frederick Fawley is a well-regarded member of the Wizengamot. Tiberius Ogden is the chairman of the most successful distillery in all of Europe. You really think something like this is going to take them down? Be serious! This is the real world, people like them don't face consequences!"

"But… what's the point, then?" Mandy was flummoxed. "If we can't change anything, if no one ever faces consequences, why bother with all this?"

Rita's smile was positively shark-like. "For money and for power, of course. How do you think my career has lasted as long as it has? Trust me, having people like Fawley and Ogden fear me makes all the difference."

"Right." Mandy stood up, slinging the bulky magical camera over one shoulder. "I should probably get to the dark room so I can make it home before breakfast."

"Home?" Rita shoved a pile of unfilled expense reports across the desk. "You're behind on my paperwork, dear."


Mandy Liz Brocklehurst decided a long time ago what she wanted to do with her life: namely, to change the world. Her older sister, Rebecca, liked to attribute it to the inferiority complex resulting from having two abridged names - yes, "Mandy" and "Liz" were her actual given names - but nobody in the Brocklehurst family ever doubted the magnitude of her ambition.

If it weren't for her heritage, she likely would have landed in Slytherin. As it turned out, though, Ravenclaw ended up being the safe route in more ways than one. The few Slytherins that made it through the war alive and outside of Azkaban were - perhaps unfairly, but that wasn't her problem - tarred with the collaborator label. Compared to that bias, Mandy's muggle father was a mere stumbling block, not an impenetrable barrier to access.

She'd interned at the Ministry after her repeated Seventh Year at Hogwarts, but a year was enough to get the message that simply being on the winning side wasn't enough to push her ideas forward. Even Granger was stuck in an entry-level position in Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. If being the right hand of the Saviour, a veritable war heroine in her own regard, wasn't enough to get a foot in the door, what hope did Mandy have?

So when she saw an advertisement for an open position at the Daily Prophet, Mandy showed up for an interview more out of idle boredom than any real interest in journalism. But ten minutes into her interview with a leering Barnabas Cuffe, the door opened and the paper's ace reporter glided in.

"You there, girl. What's your name?" she'd asked.

"Erm, Mandy. Mandy Brocklehurst."

"Brockle-what? You're muggleborn?"

"My mum's a witch," she'd said, bristling at the questions but grateful for the break from the fat, sweaty editor trying to peek up her skirt. "I'm a half-blood."

"Good. You're hired. Let's go."

And just like that, she'd become Rita Skeeter's assistant, then photographer. That whirlwind introduction set the tone for her first year as a muckraker, figuratively thrown into the deep end of digging up the most lurid secrets of Magical Britain's surviving elite.

When a few months on the job went by - and she was sure Rita wasn't going to sack her for the question - she'd asked why her blood status was the only thing Rita asked during her 'interview'. As was typical for her boss, she didn't hold back.

"I didn't want a muggleborn, because I don't have time to explain things wizards and witches learned before Hogwarts. And I didn't want a pureblood, because family connections and alliances get in the way of good stories. You were the only half-blood to apply that day."

Maybe it wasn't an origin story brimming with glory, but it was an opportunity, one Mandy fully intended to make the most of.


"Hey, honey, I'm home!"

Her boyfriend turned his head from where he sat on the sofa. "What's for dinner? I'm starved!"

"Uh, you just saw me walk in the door, right?" But Roger was already back to reading his magazine. From what she could make out over his shoulder, he was reading about quidditch. Again. "Maybe you could just grab some take-away from the Leaky? I'm completely knackered."

"Take-away again? For the third time this week? You really don't make enough gold to be eating out so much."

Mandy opened her mouth to ask why she had to pay, especially given how full the Davies vault was. Instead, she slipped off her heels and sighed. "What would you like for dinner?"

"Ladies' choice," he called out from the sitting room. She pulled some lamb out of the chiller, seasoning the ground meat while she simmered some chicken stock and vegetables. "Skeeter got some big story in the works or something?"

"You'll find out soon enough," she replied, forming meatballs out of the lamb and dropping them into a heated skillet. "I can't wait til I'm on my own, with my own beat. Sometimes working for her is so- so… disheartening."

"So quit, then."

"I'm not going to- Can you come in here and talk to me?" He ambled in, and she gave him a quick once-over. "What'd you do today?"

"Ran some drills with the boys, getting ready for the supplemental draft. This is the year, I can feel it!"

Roger had been trying out for professional quidditch teams since he'd graduated five years ago. "That's great, I know you'll make it," she said, trying to inject something more than wan enthusiasm into her voice. "Any team would be lucky to have you!"

That merited a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, babe. So what'd Skeeter do that got you so upset?"

Mandy stirred the meatballs into the stew, covering the pot with a lid and lowering the heat, the action giving her time to weigh her response. Much as she'd like to, she couldn't spill any details about the bombshell that would be dropped in tomorrow's edition. "She called me plain! Can you believe that? At her age? With her fashion sense?!"

"Well, it's not like you wear makeup," he absently replied, lifting up the lid to get a whiff of the cooking stew.

That hurt, even by today's crappy standard.

She was barely awake by the time she put away the leftovers and did the dishes. A hot bath sounded divine, but Mandy was positive she'd fall asleep if she sat still for more than thirty seconds, so instead she scrubbed herself pink in the shower as quickly as possible and got out. With a towel wrapped around herself, she stumbled to bed in the dark.

"Mm, you smell good."

Strong hands squeezed her breasts from behind. "Not tonight, babe, I'm so tired."

"C'mon, I've been waiting all week for this. My quaffles are about to explode over here!"

"I'll take care of you tomorrow, I promise," she mumbled, sleepily brushing his hands away.

Roger let out an irritated huff in her ear, rolling onto his back. "With how early you get up? No thanks."

"I'm sorry." She closed her eyes, but the restless motion of his tossing and turning kept her conscious. "I'm really sorry, okay? I know I've been working a lot."

"You work all the time! When we moved in together, I thought we were moving towards something serious."

Roger was a good match, a better one than she'd hoped she would find. His family was old pureblood stock who'd made it big in the sixties - in other words, wealth without the baggage associated when you put 'rich' and 'pureblood' together. He was exactly the sort of husband that a woman looking to make waves in society needed at her side. "We are!"

"Then I need more from you," he said expectantly, tucking an extra pillow under his shoulders and putting his hands behind head.

This was far from the first time Rita had kept her out all night, working on a story. She frequently put in ridiculous hours, staking out a lead or following up a tip. She was lucky Roger was so understanding and patient with her. Even though he clearly didn't expect to end up with a working woman as a partner, he never pushed her to leave her job. He was very handsome, and while he'd always had a reputation as something of a ladies man, she never doubted his faithfulness.

Her relationship was just as essential for her future as her career. It wouldn't do to drive him away because he was unsatisfied. With that in mind, Mandy rolled over to face him, swinging a leg over his waist and leaning down to kiss him.

He turned away. "What? What's wrong?"

"You know what I want."

"But… I don't like doing that," she protested without any vehemence.

"C'mon, you've been gone so much, don't I deserve something just for me?"

They'd had this argument before, so many times in fact that Mandy couldn't bring herself to go another round. Instead, she moved to the foot of the bed, wincing at the way her joints popped, grateful for the darkness to hide her displeasure as she lowered her head to his lap and got to work.

The things witches do to get a pureblood husband.


"Do you have a date later?"

Mandy spun in her swivel chair, raising her eyebrows in what she hoped was a cool, collected manner. "Pardon?"

"You look different today," Rita said, shoving a neat stack of paperwork aside to take a seat on her assistant's desk. "So spill! Do I know him?"

"I've told you at least a hundred times, I have a boyfriend. Roger Davies, remember?" A boyfriend who'd tacitly agreed with her boss that she was plain, so she'd straightened her hair and spent an extra fifteen minutes in front of the mirror with her cosmetics this morning.

Skeeter's eyes narrowed behind her glasses momentarily, and Mandy imagined she could see her mentally flipping through her previous hit-pieces to try and match the name. "Isn't he the one who shagged the veela back in '94?"

"They didn't shag," she muttered. Of course that's what Rita would come up with. "Was there something you wanted?"

"Oh, right." She dug around in her purse for a moment, eventually pulling out a scrap of parchment with block-print writing. "Did you take this message?"

Mandy was only able to read a few words before glancing up at her boss. "No, I didn't." She looked again for a better look, but it had already vanished back into Rita's handbag. "What is it? Another lead?"

"I doubt it. Even if it was, it's way too dull to follow up on."

"O-kay," she said, stretching the word out. "Well, if there's nothing else-"

"What are you doing, anyway?"

Mandy reflexively moved to cover the parchment she was writing on, succeeding only in getting ink smeared all over the sleeve of her blouse. "Nothing."

"C'mon, le'me see!" Rita feinted one way, and then swiftly snatched her prize from the opposite side. "Is this- you're writing an article? Did ol' Barney promote you without telling me?"

"No," she felt her face heat up. "It's just- I'm trying to build up my portfolio. It's just a draft, it's nothing, really-"

"It's not bad," Rita said, and Mandy abruptly shut her mouth. She'd been penning articles for the last three months, but Cuffe had shot down all her pieces to this point.

"Really?"

"Really. Good, technical writing, a strong opening. I'd say you show some real promise here, if you were writing about something people actually wanted to know."

Even an insult cloaked in praise still felt like a boost to her flagging ego. "But ICW regulations on potions ingredients are really, really important! A five percent increase could totally affect the bottom line for a lot of people!"

Rita waved away her comment with her free hand, still reading over her draft. "Sure, maybe. But no one's going to open the paper for a story like this, no matter how sexy you make the headline. This isn't what reporting's all about, sweetie."

"Well, maybe it should be."

"I've got something better. I'll tell you what, if this pans out, I'll share my by-line with you."

"Really?" That was big- no, it was huge. Sharing Rita's column would be a massive boost for her career. "What's the story?"

"Let's go to my desk, and I'll show you." Mandy carefully folded the draft article Rita carelessly dropped onto the floor before hurrying after her boss.

As always, the surface of Rita's desk was clear and uncluttered - a benefit of shoving all her busywork onto her assistant. She sat down in her chair, holding up a finger to gesture for Mandy to wait a moment while she waved her wand in three counter-clockwise circles and a single clockwise half-circle. A click accompanied a secret draw sliding out. "Take a look."

Mandy took the small pile of clippings, noting most of them came from competing news outlets. "I don't see a story here. Isn't a puff-piece on Potter a little… I don't know, vanilla?"

"Those are all from the last six weeks," Rita replied with a gleeful smile. "And I heard from a dishwasher at Florean's that he was spotted there last night, sharing a sundae with one Vicky Frobisher."

"Good for Potter," Mandy replied, looking through the clippings again. Each photo showed Harry Potter with a different woman in various settings and locales. "Frobisher's still modeling for Madam Malkin's summer line, isn't she?"

"She is."

"So… what is this, a commission for Witch Weekly? What's our angle?"

Rita surreptitiously cast a privacy charm before responding. "My sources in the Ministry say our dear hero's position in the DMLE is hanging on by a thread. He's flying off the rails, and we're going to break the story first!"

"What does him dating a different witch every week have to do with being an auror?" Mandy asked, flipping through the photos of Potter with a different beautiful woman on his arm one more time before handing them back. "Still seems like idle gossip, not news."

"First of all, 'idle gossip' pays the bills. I didn't get vacation homes in France and Bermuda by reporting the minutes of Wizengamot sessions. Secondly, two months ago Potter was being fast-tracked for a promotion to Head Auror, and now he's in danger of being sacked. You really think there's no story there?"

Somewhat grudgingly, Mandy had to admit she was right. "Okay. So what's our first move?"

"I'm meeting an informant from the DMLE tonight. I need you to keep an eye on Potter, get some photos if he's with someone new, and then meet me back here. We'll plan out the story direction once I've got more information."

"Meet back here tonight? Can't it wait til the morning?" Merlin knows how late she'd be tailing Potter; Mandy didn't much fancy the idea of spending yet another night with only Rita to keep her company in the cavernous Prophet offices.

"And risk these chancers pouncing on our story? I think not!" Rita looked affronted. "Now, the bartender at the White Wyvern told me that Potter Floo-ed yesterday afternoon, requesting a private booth for tonight. His reservation's for nine o'clock."

"Alright."

"We'll meet back here at midnight, unless you get an opportunity for some photos of him… uh, shall we say, en flagrante." Her pupils dilated behind her acid-green glasses, and Mandy shuddered at the way her boss practically vibrated at the thought of photographic evidence of Potter 'doing the deed'. "If you manage that, I'll give you a bonus big enough to hire an assistant to do my paperwork for you."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind," Mandy said, rolling her eyes. "See you at midnight."


The White Wyvern was located just inside Knockturn Alley, a more low-key and quiet affair than the ever-busy Leaky Cauldron. Dim lighting, high-backed booths, and not a single window in the premises all added up to a private, intimate place to grab a pint with friends.

Or, in Mandy's case, a vodka tonic that she'd sneakily dumped onto the floor and refilled with an Aguamenti charm. She'd been here since eight-fifteen, staking out a spot at the bar that allowed her to both keep an eye on the entrance as well as have at least a partial view of the booths in the back. She was ready.

Potter didn't make an appearance until half-past nine, and she let out a sigh of relief as he stumbled in with a female companion. Just in time, too, because the bartender had been eyeing her like he might start throwing hexes if she didn't order another drink.

It was Frobisher, again, tonight. The model was giggling, cheeks flushed and practically draped all over the rumpled auror robes Potter was wearing. Had he been carousing since he got off work? Or had his 'evening out' started while he was at work?

Vicky tugged him along by the hand to a booth in the back, and Mandy watched them pass by through the corner of her eyes, following them all the way with her peripheral vision. They both looked to be positively smashed, stumbling and fumbling their way through the bar, much to the amusement of the other patrons.

It was safe to say the White Wyvern didn't exactly cater to the more upstanding and morally upright segment of society.

Still, if Potter was spending more than one night with the same girl, that was progress. Based on the background she'd leafed through at the office earlier that day, Vicky should count herself lucky.

"Harr-ree, I'm thir-stee!" Frobisher said, features forming a perfect pout as she settled into the booth.

"Can't have that, can we? Just a mo', luv, I'll be right back."

This was it, he'd pass directly by her to get to the bartender. Perfect placement for a photo, with Harry's profile front and center while still capturing Frobisher sprawled out behind him. Mandy had disabled the flash on her disguised camera, and subtly shifted herself to get the correct angle.

Click.

The muted sound of the shutter was barely audible over the din of the bar. Yet, inexplicably, the instant she snapped the shot, Potter tensed, head turning fractionally to examine the customers sitting at the bar before locking onto her.

For someone unable to walk a straight line from the moment he set foot in this establishment, Potter's eyes were cool and calculating as he gazed at her, his gait straightening and shoulders squaring for a moment before he looked away and went right back to his previous posture.

Had she been made? It felt like it, but Mandy knew that getting up now and making her escape might as well be lighting up a Lumos charm and screaming out 'I'm surveilling you!' So she simply turned back to face the bar and sipped at her faux-cocktail.

"A bottle of champers and two glasses, if you would, my good sir," Harry slurred as he sidled up alongside Mandy. "Nice night, in'it?"

"Mm-hm."

He slapped a few gold coins down on the bar, the glasses clinking together as he scooped them up with one hand and the bottle with the other before moseying away from the bar. Mandy very carefully didn't allow her eyes to follow him, waiting until she heard the bottle's cork pop! to glance in his direction again. Some ace reporter she'd turned out to be.

Rita would be disappointed, Mandy decided an hour later. For all that their entrance was sloppy and full of innuendo, Harry and his date simply sipped their champagne and talked quietly together. Their exit from the Wyvern, at a quarter to eleven, was far less sensational than their entrance. Harry walked her out with an arm slung over her shoulder, and two separate sounds of apparition forestalled any potential for a scandalous end to their date.

Oh, well. At least Frobisher could have a nice, relaxing night alone. Mandy was far more envious of that thought than she was at the idea of dating a celebrity.

She stretched, then gathered her things and departed, apparating back to the office. She'd double-check that Rita wasn't back, and then catch a quick kip in the break room.

Sure enough, her boss was still out when Mandy arrived. Rita's desk was a complete disaster, though, papers sprawled all over the surface. Maybe she'd forgotten something and had to dig around in a hurry before meeting her contact at the DMLE.

She should probably straighten up the mess; Merlin knows Rita would likely force her to do it in the morning if she didn't. The idea of a nap, though, was too hard to resist. Having worked more than thirty-six of the last forty-eight hours left her fully justified to put off that job til morning. Mandy crept off to the break room, casting a cushioning charm beneath one of the tables and curling up in the darkness. Sleep came quickly.


"You're THREATENING me?!"

A loud cackle followed that shout, and Mandy barely stopped herself from bashing her head against the bottom of the table she slept under as she jerked awake.

"Put your wand down, you're embarrassing yourself, really."

'What's going on?' Mandy thought, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Rita - never one to be inconspicuous - was clearly arguing with someone, but whoever was on the other side of the break room door was soft-spoken enough to be unintelligible.

"Did Ogden send you? If that's what this is about, tell ol' Ty to send an owl, or gold. I hope you know you make for the least intimidating goons I've ever encountered."

Creeping over to the door on her hands and knees, Mandy turned the knob and cracked the door, a tiny sliver of light arcing through the opening. She caught the tail end of a man's voice, saying, "-don't know what Ogden has to do with this, but you've been poking your nose around things that are none of your business. That ends, tonight."

"Look, I'm a busy woman, and I'm sure you're only halfway through a night-course on How-to-be-Menacing, so why don't we get to the point? I haven't the faintest idea what the hell you're talking about."

"It's too late, Skeeter. We know you were meeting with the aurors tonight. We know you've been receiving stolen documents. We know that you know too much."

Mandy pressed her face to the doorframe, but the angle was all wrong. She couldn't see either Rita or her mysterious assailant.

"Docu- wait, there's no need to be so hasty, I think there's been a misunderstanding-" A pause, then Rita gasped. "What is this? How are you doing this?"

Her sudden trepidation was met with low laughter. "My friends have interesting magic, don't they? I'm afraid there's no 'bugging out' of this situation. You should have stuck to peddling gossip, Skeeter."

Rita screamed, then her cry cut off with a horrifying suddenness. A wet moan began a few moments later, but that too was short-lived. Mandy could hear quick, stuttered steps through the office - how many of them were there?

What if they discovered she was here?

"Toss the place. We need to know what she had," the first man ordered.

Oh fuck! Mandy scrambled away from the door, fumbling for her wand. Her hand was shaking as she reached up to tap the top of her head, the uncomfortable feeling of a runny egg dripping over her body as her Disillusionment Charm went into effect.

No sooner did the sensation reach the tips of her toes did the break room door slam open, a bearded, heavyset man stepping inside and looking around. Mandy held her breath as his eyes passed over her hidden form, trying desperately to remain completely motionless while her heart beat an unsteady, panicked rhythm. Five minutes later, or maybe it was actually five seconds later, he spun on his heel and left the room.

She nearly collapsed to her knees in relief, but instead she remained perfectly still, breathing shallowly through her nose and listening carefully for anyone else's approach.

There hadn't been any noise for a bit. Creeping forward towards the door, Mandy looked around at the ransacked offices. Everything was in disarray, the intruders seemed to have searched every nook and cranny in their pursuit of- of-

What the hell were they even looking for?

As she stepped towards her boss's desk, Mandy promptly dropped to her knees and threw up. Rita's body lay in a heap, surrounded by a stagnating pool of blood. It looked like someone had cast the Piercing Hex at her a few hundred times, so many puncture wounds present that she was barely recognisable. Her one remaining eye was open staring vacantly upwards; her mutilated face, flayed open, unable to disguise her expression of agony.

A heavy sob came unbidden, and Mandy cried from the fear, the stress, the terror of what just happened. Rita Skeeter may not have been kind, or principled, or honest, but she never did anything to deserve this. Who would do something like this?

And why?

She had to call the aurors. She needed to report this, tell what she heard. The people that did this couldn't get away with it! Mandy braced one arm on a nearby desk to pull herself to her feet, taking two steps towards the nearest fireplace before she stuttered to a halt.

'We know you were meeting with the aurors tonight' he'd said. Did they have their own informants inside the DMLE? And what was that business about stolen documents?

Rita played things close to her vest. Mandy was probably the closest person to the Prophet's (in)famous reporter in the whole country, and she only knew half of the stories her boss had in her pipeline. Something brought this on, but what?

Taking great pains to avoid stepping in the cooling puddle of blood, Mandy reached into Rita's handbag and withdrew her wand before sitting heavily in her chair.

Was she really going to do this?

Three counter-clockwise circles and a clockwise half-circle later, she sorted through the massive trove of documents inside Rita's secret drawer. The answer was here, it had to be. Mandy formed a neat stack before shrinking it down, then stuffed all the documents into her camera bag.

With one last look at her boss's body, she spun in a circle and apparated away.

A/N: Oh jeez. Here we go again! The good news, this is officially the FIRST Mandy/Harry fic on FFN. Heck yea! Let me tell you, this Frickles cat is a trailblazing fella.

I want this one to be a mystery. We'll see how I manage it. Hopefully it comes out better than A Graceless Tandem. I've got the A-plot settled, but there's still some details that need ironing out.

This will be very much a side project - I'm like, 75% of the way done with Witch Seeking Wizard, so I'll be knocking that one out in the near future. I'd just had this chapter sitting in my G-docs for like, 3 weeks now, and couldn't resist any longer.

For the same reason, expect chapter 1 of my H/Katie Bell fic (Failing Upward) to come soon.

Hope you enjoy! Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles