A/N – Just to let you all know, I'm taking my kids on a road trip for the next week, so you won't see another update for a few days. RELAX! My quiet hotel room evenings are going to give me plenty of time to write (I'm taking my son's laptop), so I should have a few chapters to post next week. I'll be thinking of you all as I drive my little Hyundai through the BC mountains, hoping to catch a glimpse of Orlando Bloom (who is supposed to be there somewhere, filming a movie)!

Again, I own nothing that JKR has previous claim to.

CQ

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Chapter Ten: They're Everywhere!

At three thirty the next afternoon, Maura Kennedy walked into the head office of a major international tabloid newspaper. She approached the security desk, and the guard seated there, confidently, the heels of her three hundred dollar Italian shoes clicking against the marble of the floor.

She was dressed in a figure-hugging beige silk suit, and carried her Louis Vuitton attache case in her left hand. In short, she was dressed to kill.

"I'd like to see the editor, please."

"Do you have an appointment?" the young man asked her. "Is Mr Lewis expecting you?"

"No."

"Then I'm sorry, but you'll have to make one. Mr Lewis doesn't accept..."

"He'll see me," she stated, leaning over the desk and lifting the handset of the telephone there, handing it to him. "Tell him that Maura Kennedy has some information for him."

Thirty seconds later, Maura was being escorted to the twentieth floor by the embarrassed and stuttering guard.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kennedy...I didn't..."

"It's okay, really. Relax."

The young man blushed, and continued to stare forward as the doors to the elevator opened. They were greeted there by a petite brunette with large glasses.

"Miss Kennedy, if you'd follow me?"

Maura nodded, then cast a smile of thanks at the guard as the doors closed behind her. Poor kid. She followed the brunette around the side of the building along a long glass corridor. On either side were large rooms full of people and computers. Some were on the phone, some typing madly away...Maura knew exactly what it was like to work in a room like that – her first four years as a journalist had been spent in a room much like it, but in the offices of the London Times.

"Mr Lewis?" The woman leading her said as she entered the large room at the end of the hallway. "Miss Kennedy has arrived."

"Ah...Maura Kennedy," the man sitting behind the large desk rose, holding out his hand to shake hers. He seemed to be somewhere in his mid to late fifties, with a bit of a paunch badly hidden by a horribly vibrant striped shirt. His greying hair was combed over the top of his head, and a little too long to be neat.

But he had a wonderful sparkle in his eyes, and Maura, while cautious, warmed to him.

"If anyone had asked me," he continued, "who I would be welcoming into my office today, your esteemed self would have been absolute last on my list."

"Is that right?" She asked, as she took a chair.

"To what do I owe the great honor of your visit?"

"To the fact that the editors of every mainstream daily in the western hemisphere appear to wish to keep their heads firmly wedged in their behinds, Mr Lewis."

He looked stunned for a moment, then his eyes twinkled and he began to laugh.

"Oh, I do think we are going to like each other, Miss Kennedy."

"I surely hope so, Mr Lewis, because I have a story that is about to change the world."

"Well now, let's hear it."

"I'd like a cup of coffee, if that could be managed? And you might like to have something a little stronger, you're going to need it. Oh, and you might want to cancel any further appointments for the day. This could take a while."

His eyes glinted with interest, "Let's talk terms."

Maura, who was fully aware that newspaper editors, as a rule, valued only what they paid dearly for, smiled. "Yes. Lets."

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Ron was sitting on the couch, staring hard at the television screen. It wasn't turned on, but the screen reflected a great view of the front door behind him.

There were three empty ice cream containers litters around the room. He wondered, briefly, when the last time Maura had had a real meal was. She'd been home for two days. Had she eaten anything but ice cream in that time?

Standing, he made his way over to the tiny kitchenette. He looked for a moment at the incredibly sad-looking plant on her windowsill. Shaking his head, he turned on the faucet to give it a bit of water. As he lifted it down from the ledge, his fingers slipped over the rim of the pot. The soil was crunchy it was so dry.

Maura obviously didn't spend much time here.

After watering the plant, he returned it to its perch and then turned, opening the fridge. Inside, he saw three wilted carrots, a few apples and a carton of milk. He lifted the milk out and checked the expiry date.

Three months before. Gross. Dumping it in the trash container, he lifted out the bag and carried it down the hall to the garbage chute.

Back in her flat, he investigated the kitchen cupboards. They were as empty as her fridge. There were two cans of tuna and a packet of soda biscuits. Sighing, he opened the fridge freezer, not holding out much hope for the contents.

He stood there a moment, taking in what he saw. He was amazed. The three empty ice cream containers were explained. Before him were at least a dozen cartons of ice cream. The good stuff, too, not the supermarket variety.

Finally, he thought as he reached in, a woman with her priorities straight.

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There were fourteen tube stops between the tabloid offices and her flat at Parsons Green. She then had a five minute walk to her building. By the time she put the key in the lock, she was exhausted.

I could have taken a cab, the thought. I can certainly afford it now!

She thought of the rather monstrous cheque currently residing in her handbag. Stephen Lewis had been very, very happy to sign it when he found out that, not only did she have names, dates, photographs, and irrefutable evidence, but she'd already written the articles.

Four of them. And with her by-line, the circulation of the tabloid would triple. Yes, Stephen Lewis was a very happy man.

What had surprised Maura more than anything, though, had been his willingness to believe her. About everything.

"You don't have my job, Maura, and not come to believe, without a doubt, that some things can't be denied. There is so much that our world can't explain, why not a magical world?"

He had agreed, without question, to publish contact information for people to use, which Maura had acquired with a quick call to Harry. Maura was thrilled. And then she opened her front door to find Ron Weasley eating ice cream from a carton, sitting on her couch.

"Ron?"

"Oh...Maura!" He stood.

She eyed the ice cream in his hands.

"Oh...I...sorry. I hope you don't mind, I helped myself. Harry asked me to wait for you...got peckish...."

"That's fine," she blushed, remembering what was, or rather was not, in her fridge. "There's not much..."

"No, never was a carrot man," he grinned. "You seem to keep the freezer well stocked, though."

"Yes, I..." she blushed even more. "Ice cream, when I write... bad habit."

Ron watched her as she stammered and blushed. Suddenly, he moved toward the kitchen, put the carton back in the freezer, and rinsed the spoon he'd been using.

"Harry wants to see you," he said, without turning.

"Oh, okay... I'll just get changed then..."

Ron turned then, and watched her go, then stood waiting for her to return. She reentered the room five minutes later, dressed in jeans and a clingy yellow sweater. She grabbed a leather jacket from the closet and threw it on as she stepped into leather trainers. Lacing them up, she grabbed the briefcase she'd been carrying and stepped over to him.

"Apparate or tube?" she asked.

"Apparate," Ron said, stepping up to her, then behind. He wrapped his left arm tightly around her middle, which was difficult as he stood about a foot taller than she. His hand managed to brush the bottom of her right breast as he held her.

"Think of Potter Manor, Harry's study," he said, in a rather surprised and strangled voice.

Before Maura could think of anything, she felt the weightless feeling of apparating again, and was suddenly standing in Harry's study with Ron's arms securely around her.

Harry glanced up at them, his eyes glinting as he saw who it was,

"Ron, Maura." He nodded.

"Sorry, Harry, had to wait." said Ron, quickly letting his arms fall from around her.

"And eat my ice cream," she commented, stepping away from him.

"Well, if you'd keep anything else worth eating in your flat..."

"Why? I don't eat there."

"For guests," he shot back.

"I don't have guests, Ron."

For some reason, Harry thought Ron looked rather happy at that.

"Maura," Harry stood. "Any luck?"

"Well, as I told Ron last night, no reputable paper will even talk to me now. However, I took Ron's advice and approached a well known tabloid."

"And?"

"And, Stephen Lewis, the editor, was more than happy to print. And more than happy to sign a rather large cheque, as well." She handed the cheque to Harry.

"A cheque?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"People value what they pay for, Ron."

"Oh..."

"And apparently he values us a whole lot," Harry commented, whistling at the amount.

He held it out to Maura, who shook her head.

"I want you to use that for the war, Harry."

"We're very well funded, Maura. We don't need to take your money."

"Then use it to support the children who are going to be orphaned, or some safe houses, or whatever. I don't want it."

Harry looked at her for a moment, then silently put the cheque in the top drawer of his desk.

"So, what can you tell me?"

"What can you tell me? What made you hang up on me after I told you about Philip Mahood?"

"Philip Mahood?" Ron spat. "What's that ruddy git..."

"Hold up, Ron," Harry held up a hand to silence his friend. "Let Maura finish."

"Well?" she asked.

"I had to confirm a few things. Ron, can you call in your brothers and your Dad?"

Half a minute later, Bill, Charlie and Arthur Weasley were seated in front of them.

"Maura, can you tell me what you've managed?"

"Well, I spent most of last night researching a few things on the internet. I sent you copies..."

Harry nodded.

"There are three cells of the Al Quaida organization in the UK that use... well, no one knows how they appear or disappear. They were once one cell, but have since grown and split.

"This is their mark..." she pulled out a paper and handed it to Harry, who looked at it, then passed it around. "They are all tattooed with it on the right forearm."

When the Weasley men saw the picture, they all gasped.

"I approached Stephen Lewis today. He's the editor of the largest tabloid in England. No one more... reputable... would even talk to me after I told them..." Maura swallowed. "Anyhow, I approached Stephen with all my research and four written articles. He agreed to publish immediately. What's more..."

"What?" Harry's eyes flashed to hers. He'd picked up on the tone of her voice, and it didn't sound good.

"Well, it was really strange. He believes me, Harry. I got the impression that it's not... the fact of your world wasn't a surprise to him."

Harry's eyes slid to Bill. Bill nodded, and stood, silently leaving the room.

"Go on."

"He gave me a disgusting amount of money for it all. The first story will run in tomorrows edition."

Harry considered this for a moment, then looked at her. "You're getting the by-line?"

"Yes. It was a condition he set. My name is... well known."

"Yes, of course," Harry stood and walked to the window. "You'll have to come back here, then, Maura."

"What? Why?"

"Once your name is involved publicly, you'll be a target. We can't keep you safe at your flat. You'll be safe here."

"But..."

"You're not a prisoner. But you're going to have to live here for a little while."

"How long?"

"Until the war is over."

Maura sighed. "I want to be involved, Harry."

"Of course you'll be involved. That won't change. We'll just make this your base of operations."

She nodded, saying nothing for a moment. Then, "Okay."

Right then, Bill returned, and Harry looked up at him.

"Well?"

"Class of sixty eight."

"Damn," Harry said. "What house?"

Bill grinned, "Gryffindor."

"Well, well," Harry smiled. "Get me Snape."

"Harry?" Maura was confused, but Harry shook his head at her and paced behind his desk, obviously lost in thought.

It only seemed like a matter of minutes, but must have been at least a quarter of an hour, before the door was opened, and Snape strode through, his black robes flying out behind him.

"Harry?"

"Severus," Harry held out his hand to shake. "Thanks for coming so quickly. We have a situation that I'm hoping you can help us get a better handle on."

Snape glanced around the room at the congregation of Weasley men, and the single woman there. His eyes moved back to Harry.

"What now?"

"What can you tell me about Stephen Lewis?"

"Well, there is a name that I haven't heard in a while," Snape smiled unpleasantly. "And had hoped to never hear again."

They all waited.

"He was a year behind your father and I," he explained. "Good student. Fearless. And an incurable gossip. If there wasn't a rumor to be told, he'd start one. He was a particular favorite of the divination professor, as I remember. So tell me, what has the little git gone and done?"

Harry grinned, handing over a glass of amber liquid. Snape eyed it suspiciously before accepting it.

"Granted us admittance to the muggle world." Harry said.

"Bollocks," said Snape, shocked. He downed the liquid in the glass in a single gulp, then handed the empty glass back to Harry, who quickly refilled it.

"Can we trust him, Severus?"

Snape thought for a moment, then nodded decisively. "Yes. Yes, I think we can."

"Good then. Let's discuss Philip Mahood, then."

Snape choked on his whiskey. Maura wished she had some to choke on.

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Okay, so I know it was shorter, but it's just to tide over my readers until I get back from my road trip. I promise, I will write nightly and hope to have several chapters ready to post to you next week.

Thanks so much to my reviewers!

CQ

texasjeanette: Thanks, I'm really enjoying writing this, I just hope I don't begin to annoy people with frequent updates!

Saerry Snape: I've never seen that series – I don't watch a lot of tv (two boys under 12!!) and what I do watch tends to be limited to Discovery Channel and Survivor! I will check it out online though.

James: Nya nya! But I don't have hero status!

Merlindamage: BTW, cool handle... The integration of technology into the wizarding world was one of the first things I made sure I had in the story. I can't imagine anyone as intelligent as Harry living without the basics of technology.

Shotgunn: Harry was definitely reminded of Hermione when Maura showed her research compulsion. After all, that is one of the qualities that Hermione's character centred around.

Azntgr01: Okay, I can normally deduce what people's handles mean, but yours has me stumped! I do intend to tell the full story of the final battle and the loss of Hermione and Dumbledore, but right now, it's a very sensitive thing for both Harry and Ron. I just don't think they're ready to talk about it yet. But they will, I promise. And as for H/G...we'll see in the next chapter...I think ;-}

GiGiFanfic: James Milamber is a sweetheart. I was getting NO traffic on my story until he recommended it, and I will be eternally grateful to him for it! Thanks for your kind comments – next chapter will be in a weeks time!

Mountain: I don't care – just keep the reviews coming! I love knowing that people are reading this – it's really a wonderful feeling!

CQ