Millicent grabbed a last bite before standing up. A bracelet of fiery opals circled one wrist, matching the Bulstrode Heir's ring on her left hand. She hadn't made a fuss of receiving either. "Come on, we have to hurry and take our things back to our dorms or we'll be late for Potions. I heard Snape will hate you for years if you come to his class late during the first two weeks. Those are supposed to be the most important."

The former Gryffindors, older and younger, shared a look. Well, that explained a lot.

A mad dash to stow their belongings and make it to the classroom on time followed this revelation. However, they found the door locked upon arrival. Even less pleasant was the sight of Hermione Granger leaning against it, avidly reading a potions book. Draco recognized it as being in no way meant for a first year. In fact, Severus had barely allowed him access to it in his seventh year. The potions inside were volatile and dangerous, but the ingredient descriptions were second-to-none. No wonder the girl could answer any question thrown her way the first time around.

However, Draco did note that she was barely a chapter in yet and nowhere near the glossary. He smirked. This could be interesting.

"Well, if it isn't the lone lion," Pansy taunted. "How does it feel to be the only Gryffindor?"

Hermione put her nose in the air and ignored Pansy. Instead, she set her eyes on the returned Slytherins and walked toward them. "I heard you lot are the best in our grade, so far."

"The teachers are planning on letting us take more advance classes," Seamus bragged, his smile threatening.

The bushy-haired girl looked at him enviously before giving herself a mental shake. She smiled back at Seamus. "Well, I plan on being the best in Potions," she declared.

Dean's jaw nearly dropped, while the others had to bite their tongues to hide their laughter. Draco, who would one day create a painless Skele-grow alternative while on the run, snorted derisively. As fucking if, he thought venomously.

Lavender cleared her throat to hide her disbelieving giggles. "Good for you."

"Maybe if you need tutoring in Potions, I could help you." Hermione offered, her eyes full of arrogance. "We could study together! You'll definitely need all the help you can get, so just ask me."

Draco gagged slightly. Blaise put a comforting hand on his back, watching in dismay as the girl prattled on.

"I've also been reading up on wizarding traditions ever since I heard about your unfortunate family troubles, Ronald. I thought I might be able to help. Divorce can be so confusing," she added, blinking her lashes at him. Ron glared, resisting the urge to go for his wand only by the skin of his teeth. Beside him Harry took a step forward, followed by his once-soldiers. Neville narrowed his eyes and let his hand go to his wand. Who did this girl think she was?

Unaware of the tension, Hermione Granger continued digging her grave. "I find them quite barbaric, actually, what with all this marriage contract nonsense, but I've become quite knowledgeable on them. Did you hear that the Board of Governors is trying to classes on wizarding traditions? Dumbledore is fighting them, of course. Such blood-supremacist propaganda shouldn't be taught to a population that's mostly Muggle-raised. As a Muggle-born I find it all highly offensive, but if the classes do go through I promise to help you with them. With all the reading I've done, I really do think I will be the most knowledgeable," she said smugly.

Looking around at the growing rage on the faces of the first year court, Tracy, Millicent, Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle began to back away. The audacity this girl had! Pansy swallowed, taking a position behind Crabbe and Goyle, who were looking on with their mouths gapping. Pansy tugged Tracy with her, while Millicent gingerly made her way to stand beside Susan.

Susan smiled at her, pleased to see Millicent standing with them, and Millicent grinned back. Millicent had never been the best at magic but even her father admitted she was good in a fight. Like Grandmother Mansfield said, spells were well and good—but so was a square shot to the nose.

Millicent cracked her knuckles. Grandmother had always said Millicent had a gifted punch.

Then a small blue dragon landed on her shoulder. "The professor is around the corner," Blueberry murmured, "Hold you fire." Smothering a grin, Millicent nodded. The stuffy bopped its head and flew back to Ron, whose bag was open for it to return to.

As if that were a cue, Neville laughed loudly in Hermione's face. The others in the court stared blankly at her for a moment, incredulous, before turning to each other and chatting. Millicent watched from the corner of her eye as Hermione Granger was ignored as though she'd never said anything at all. The girl's face turned red. She ducked her head to hide her expression.

"Thank you for standing with us, Millicent," Susan said softly, letting the louder conversations absorb theirs.

Millicent blushed. "It was nothing, really. We didn't even come to blows."

Susan looked over her shoulder, where Pansy and Tracey were just creeping out from behind Crabbe and Goyle. "Still, we won't forget this. It's this sort of thing that shows a person's true colors."

Professor Snape just then strode down the hall, his black robes billowing behind him. The first years fell silent, shuffling into a line as if by instinct. When the door creaked open, they flooded in behind the professor with nervous expressions.

However, it was only the returned who feared for more than their grades.

Potions lessons took place, once again, down in one of the dungeons. It was still colder here than up in the main level and it still would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars on shelves all around the walls. In short, Neville was already eager to be back in Herbology, where the sun actually shone. Please, he thought, Let's not make this worse by having to deal with the old Snape again. Please!

However, Neville hadn't noticed any changes in the course of events yet. Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roster and, just like before, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," Snape said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new—celebrity."

Harry restrained a grimace. We were so close, he thought morosely. If Amelia Bones, Remus, and Lucius are back, why isn't Severus?

Fucking fate.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Snape began his well-known speech. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed the speech. Harry, Ron, and Neville exchanged concerned looks, while Hermione Granger sat on the edge of her seat and looked desperate to start proving that she wasn't a dunderhead.

"Granger!" Snape snapped suddenly. "Since you are claiming to be the best in your year, what is the first ingredient you need for the Polyjuice potion?"

Granger looked confused. "Sir, that wasn't in the first year Potions book."

"A point from Gryffindor," Snape sneered. "I did not ask if it was, Miss Granger. Can you or can you not tell me what the first ingredient in the Polyjuice Potion is?"

"No, professor." She looked down.

Snape's lip curled. "As I thought. Potter! What is the answer?"

"Twelve lacewing flies that should be stewed for twenty-one days," Harry answered, resisting the urge to smile. Old knowledge died hard, apparently.

"Two points to Slytherin!" Snape turned his attention back to Hermione. "Granger, what can armadillo bile be used in? Hint, Granger: you will need it."

"I don't know, I—"

Not waiting for her to continue her defense, Snape carried on. "Thomas, what is the answer?"

"Wit-Sharpening Potion, professor."

"Granger! Name an ingredient in Shrinking Solution."

Hermione face was turning redder by the second. "Sir! That's not in the first year text!"

Snape didn't seem to care. "No answer to be found with you, then. Greengrass, answer the question."

"Caterpillars, sir."

Snape nodded and turned to look at the only Gryffindor. "This is how it is going to work. Granger, since you seem to believe being the best in Potions is just about what you read, I will ask a series of questions to the class. Anyone who knows the answer will raise their hand so I may call on them. If you are correct, you will receive a point. If you don't know the answer, don't raise your hand. Understood?"

The class echoed a 'Yes, sir.' The non-Slytherin returned all shot each other considering looks. Could this be how Snape acted when he was around his Slytherins, or was this a sign he actually was a returned? Harry tried to catch Draco's eye, but his new cousin's face was infuriatingly blank.

"Granger," Snape continued. "After you see exactly how limited you are, maybe you will lose your arrogant attitude. Let's begin. I will start with the middle of first year questions."

Surprisingly, Hermione hadn't memorized that far. However, to the surprise of many, Crabbe and Goyle had. It was them who answered questions back and forth, though all the other students besides Hermione had raised their hands.

"Moving on to second year questions," Snape droned, apparently uninterested in the proceedings. "What is in the Confusing and Befuddlement Draught?"

Everyone but Hermione raised their hand. Snape called on Tracy. "Sneezewort, scurvy-grass, and lovage, sir."

"What can daisy roots be used for? Crabbe!"

"Shrinking Solution!"

"Name one ingredient in the Draught of Peace, Weasley!"

"Hellebore, sir."

Snape nodded and continued. As he began the third year questions, Granger was the only one out.

"What is the main ingredient in a basic boil-cure potion? Bones."

"Horned slugs."

After several more questions with all but one trying to answer, Snape was feeling quite proud of his little snakes. "On to fourth year."

Half-way through the fourth-year questions, Pansy found she could no longer answer; however, she was quite pleased with herself nonetheless. Tracy went down next, followed by Millicent, Dean, Seamus, and Lavender during the first part of the fifth-year questions. Parvati, Harry, and Daphne fell in the third potion of fifth-year, with Ron not far behind. Theo, Susan, and Blaise made it to the beginning of sixth.

Neville, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle went head-to-head for the remainder of the sixth-year questions. Neville had a slight advantage: his herbology background made questions based on plants and what potions they were used for easy. Thinking back, Ron reckoned they shouldn't have been too surprised by Crabbe and Goyle, either. As the founders of the C&G Potions Company, their fathers had a monopoly on the ingredient market. They had probably picked all this up while training to inherit the business.

To the surprise of no one, least of all the returned, Draco was the overall winner. He only dropped the ball a quarter of the way into seventh year. Being a potions master in the future, he could have gone through seventh and beyond, but he wasn't willing to tip his godfather off to something strange if the man hadn't, in fact, returned.

"I am impressed," Snape pronounced, in the same manner one might a death sentence. "Seventy well-deserved points to Slytherin. Nicely done." Snape gave them all a look that they assumed was his best approximation of approval. They smiled back proudly.

"Granger!" Snape growled, turning on her like a viper. "I hope this scene will stay lodged in your mind. Remember that you are not superior just because you memorized the first semester of the first year."

Granger looked down, angry with Professor Snape and herself. She could feel the jealously bubbling up inside her. It just wasn't fair! How could she be the worst in the class by entire grade levels?

"Seeing as nearly all of you have knowledge to at least fourth year, you will each be given the second year aptitude written test along with the practical portion. If you pass with an Outstanding, I will talk with the headmaster about moving you to a more advance Potions class. Before you leave this classroom, you will know your grade."

Hermione raised her hand, "Will I be taking the test as well, Professor?"

"That is entirely up to you, Granger," Snape snarled over his shoulder.

Hermione wilted at his tone but overall brightened at the idea of seeing where her aptitude level was in Potions class. At least then she could hold that over the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs. "I would like to, Professor."

Snape shook his head. He didn't have to read Granger's mind to know just what she was thinking. "Very well. I'll need to remind myself to give the same aptitude test to the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs." He cast a considering look at his strangely large Slytherin class, hiding his own smirk as he said, "It is only fair, after all."

Harry felt relief course through his blood, barely resisting a decidedly Gryffindor-ish cheer. There it was! The sign that their Severus Snape was back!

The Snape during this time period hadn't given a fuck about being fair as long as he was content. He was damaged, worn-down, and bound to serve a manipulative old man. The Severus Snape standing before the returned first years was a less bitter, gentler version. A version that existed in the future only after a bloody war and a hard-won freedom. The addition of a loving husband had helped, too.

After shooting a wave of covert smiles at each other, the gang turned back to their professor. Severus handed out the tests, purposely not meeting the eyes of his students, before returning to the front of the room.

"You have two and half hours," he murmured. "Begin."

"I am happy, albeit inconceivably stunned, to say that all but one among you have managed to perform Outstandingly on this test. Congratulations." Snape gave a long, sarcastic clap. "I will speak to the headmaster at my earliest convenience. Now, get out!" As the students rushed for the door, Snape called, "Mr. Potter, remain behind."

Harry froze, but gestured for the other first-years to keep going. Snape closed the door with a spell and locked it.

Turning on his heel, Harry grinned winningly. "Sev, I—"

"Sit."

Harry returned to his seat with a glum expression on his face. Sirius could have gotten away from a lecture with a smile, of course.

Sirius… Harry winced. He had been trying to avoid thoughts of Sirius until he knew for sure his godfather was safe, but Severus being back had to be a good sign, right? And Amelia Bones was on the case. She would make sure Sirius was safe. Right?

Severus stood in front of his desk, staring down at Harry accusingly. Harry grimaced at the other man's crossed arms. Uh oh.

"Are you going to explain to me," Severus started sibilantly, "What you did to make it so we came to be back in time, Harry? Keep in mind, I'm not angry about this situation."

"How do you know it was my fault?"

"It's always your fault!"

Harry smiled. Well, he supposed he couldn't argue with that.

The Minister for Magic's office was, in a word, imposing. The cathedral ceiling was held up by white Roman columns, tapestries of wizarding greatness hanging between each pair. A rich oak desk took up much of the back of the room, with two ornate, uncomfortable wingbacks set before it. The marble floors were lousy with intricate carpeting, and artwork and artifacts peered from any number of podiums and shelves. The walls were dark, rich plum and every piece of hardware was golden. However, the Minister's chair was frankly Merlin-sent and for that Amelia Bones would forgive the opulence of office that housed it.

Truthfully, Amelia could barely believe she was here. There were mornings she found herself walking to the DMLE offices as though nothing had changed; as though she hadn't become a vicious, cutthroat creature of politics. As if she weren't prepared to be worse, if that was what it took. Then the memories would bite her, their poison bleeding into every moment of her day. She would see Susan and Terry all dressed up, the weight of her own navy dress robes heavy on her shoulders. She would remember teasing tall Terry about how squished he would be in the back of the fancy Ministry-issued car.

Amelia closed her eyes, letting the chair take her full weight. They had been attending a gala for St. Mungo's. Susan had been schmoozing for more funding for the infant's wing and Terry, as Minister Shacklebolt's Senior Undersecretary, had been attending for both his wife and the good press. Amelia had come because it was the polite thing to do and certainly not because it was just the sort of event a certain someone could be found at.

They had been returning home when Amelia had noticed something strange with the driver. He was blank-faced, almost unresponsive. She had realized that he'd been imperio'd just a second too late.

Her last memory was turning to see Susan, hanging upside-down in the seat behind her, long stems of blood flowing into her scarlet hair. Then the car had exploded.

Amelia grit her teeth, eyes flying open. She would do anything to keep that image from tainting her new reality. The first step, regrettably, had been swallowing her reluctance and becoming Minister. Shacklebolt was just fine in the future, but he was a kind man. She knew that he wouldn't have the lack of conscience to move as fast as she wanted.

Her political enemies had never even seen her coming. By the time they did, she was already in the chair.

Cornelius Fudge would be in prison for embezzlement by the end of the month and, for a slew of war crimes, Bartemius Crouch Senior would soon be joining him. Highest on his list of sins was the false imprisonment of Lord Sirius Black, who had been released into the care of his remaining family, Narcissa Black Malfoy. Peter Pettigrew would be tried and Kissed by Tuesday. She already had a unit dispatched to retrieve the rat from Severus Snape, who had 'discovered' the bastard in Ronald Weasley's pocket.

She was galled to admit that Lucius Malfoy had been an invaluable ally in her warpath, but Amelia figured she had thanked him well enough. She had all but given him the Hogwarts' Board of Governors, after all. With connections made there, she was confident that he would have the Wizengamot by the short hairs in no time. In return, by the next election Amelia was confident that her temporary appointment would be an official one.

A knock at the door brought Amelia from her thoughts. "Are you busy, Minister?"

Amelia waved her hand, opening the door to allow her Senior Undersecretary in. "Not at all, Dolores."

Umbridge closed the door behind her. "I have the first report on the Magical Children's Act ready for your signature."

Amelia nodded and straightened, refusing to a run a weary hand through her auburn hair. The report would give her a look at how the program running under the act was doing in its first two weeks. Guilty, she wasn't sure if she wanted the program to succeed or fail.

Put forth by Lucius Malfoy, the Magical Children's Act would ensure that no magical child, Muggle-born or otherwise, would be allowed to live with Muggles who refused to meet numerous conditions. According to Lucius' opening remarks, it was inspired by the "hateful" mistreatment of his newly discovered kin, Harry Potter.

That part of the act was all well and good, but it was lost on no one that the act would all but erase Muggle-borns as they were understood today. It would force Muggle parents to include wizarding schooling and traditions in their child's life well before the child reached Hogwarts. If the parent didn't, couldn't, or wouldn't, the act gave the Ministry power to remove the child. Any allegations of abuse or neglect would also be grounds for removal. Muggle parents would be vetted with extreme prejudice, made to attend classes about the Wizarding World, and be checked up upon regularly.

It wasn't on par with genocide, or even prejudiced separation from the Muggle World, but it still felt like going up to the pureblood supremacists and saying, "I'm sorry, you were right."

Amelia had signed the emergency act anyway. She'd looked Lucius Malfoy in the eye and shaken his hand over it, barely hiding her irritation. Political bedfellows they may be—hopefully temporarily—but she swore she would never like the Dark prick.

Ignorant of Amelia's bitter feelings, the smile on Umbridge's face widened. "The program has been running excellently, of course, Minister. In fact, the committee is looking at setting up an additional foster home for the little dears we've rescued. I don't expect the need to be this great in the long term, though. If the children are half as lovely as my Olivia, they will all be adopted in short order. Why, did you know that just yesterday her accidental magic turned my entire living room pink? It was adorable!"

Amelia nearly groaned as Umbridge babbled on about her toddler daughter, one of the first children to be reclaimed from inadequate Muggle parents. The tiny, pixie-like child had curbed nearly all Umbridge's vicious qualities, but her blathering was still a price to pay.

"Yet," Umbridge cut herself off, her lips pulling into a moue of disapproval. "There is one small hindrance to the act."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. Dumbledore. If there was ever a man she disliked more than Lucius Malfoy, it was Dumbledore. He had a pushy, manipulative nature and no respect for authority that wasn't his own. Amelia had taken great pleasure in removing him from power as Chief Warlock.

"Dumbledore has little political pull," Amelia said. A few Malfoy-spawned rumours and an article from Rita Skeeter, bless her, had helped Amelia take care of him. "He is no longer a problem."

Umbridge shook her head. "He may no longer be head of any Ministry body, but he is still the Leader of the Light. The Light will follow his commands and he is against our operations under the act."

Amelia smothered a sigh. She should have expected as much. Before returning and striking her deal with Malfoy, as a Light witch she would have felt obligated to fight the act, too. And the MCA wasn't the only legislation Light views opposed, either. While Malfoy had pushed the MCA through using the overwhelming influence of the Boy Who Lived, the Creature, Dark Arts, and Education Amendments were all still fighting Light bias in the Wizengamot. Along with endorsing Malfoy's position on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, she had also guaranteed her support for these bills as part of her deal to secure the Ministry.

She supposed it could have been worse. While she wasn't thrilled about all the legislation Malfoy had spawned, she agreed that at least the Creature Amendment was dearly needed. It would provide rights to all sentient humanoid creatures, giving them access to services they had never had before: blood banks, health care, welfare, education, and more. They would be treated like ordinary citizens so long as they upheld the Statute of Secrecy.

She was less enthused about the Dark Arts Amendment, which would reverse "discriminatory" laws set in place by the Light against the Dark. Many Dark traditions and practices would be legalized, along with books, heirlooms, and techniques. Magical children would be exposed to both kinds of magic, allowing them to expand and advance their cores. Many of these corrections were also seen in the Education Amendment, which would have Hogwarts bringing back all the old courses various Light headmasters had removed over the years.

Lucius Malfoy and his followers were, of course, eager for these political wins. The terrifying Fenrir Greyback, Werewolf Britain's Chief Alpha, had also come forward to offer his approval of the terms set by Creature Amendment. It was the first time anyone had seen him in close to a decade. Amelia would have taken it as a hint that his memories had returned as hers had, but upon meeting him she'd found that not the case.

The Fenrir Greyback who had come to meet with her was no less feral than the one who'd joined Voldemort. She merely offered him a favorable deal. He was still a man willing to resort to child cruelty and terrorism to carve out any scrap of respect for his persecuted people he could. But even without the humanity awakened by Bill Weasley, Amelia had found that she could understand him perfectly. The thought both awed and repulsed her.

She had put her feelings aside long enough to negotiate a treaty between them. If the Creature Amendment went through, Wizarding Britain never need to fear a werewolf again.

If she could just get the thrice-damned thing passed.

Amelia fingered her wand in thought before smiling. "We'll put Ms. Skeeter on it. I'm sure she can think of an appropriate narrative to help our cause." Amelia paused for a moment. "I also want her to do the announcement about my appointment. I haven't even had the time to inform my own niece yet."

Umbridge nodded firmly. She couldn't help but be glad that there was finally a competent Minister in office. "Things have been moving so quickly, Minister. It is a wonder they're as smooth as they are. I'll send a letter immediately."

Amelia hesitated, then nodded. This needed to be done fast. She could pen Rita on her own time.

Umbridge left the room soon after, leaving Amelia feeling oddly maudlin. Reaching into one of the desk's hidden drawers, she removed a bottle of Firewhiskey and an emerald-studded tumbler. Both were congratulatory presents from one Ms. Skeeter.

Amelia smiled softly. Cheers to me, she thought, and let herself relax to the burn of the alcohol, The best turncoat in all of Britain.

Rita Skeeter sat behind her desk, reading a letter from the Minister's Senior Undersecretary, Madame Umbridge. Once upon a time she would have risked Azkaban to get her hands on dirt like this. Now, it came addressed to her—how positively naughty! Who knew that being Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet would be such a lark? And to think, all it had taken was some creative blackmail and an oath to print the truth.

The oath had annoyed her at first. But Rita was a pragmatic. You had to be, to grow up a Muggle-born Slytherin in the 60's and 70's. If a binding oath was what it took to ensure Lucius Malfoy and his new Magickals Movement had her back, she would work with it. Besides, the only real problem with truth was how much it pissed people off. But with Lord Malfoy's backing, Rita was untouchable.

Setting the letter down, Rita lounged back in her leather chair and turned her face to her office's large bay windows. Diagon Alley bustled below her, bright and colorful like it hadn't been when she'd died. The center square was free of any looming, corpse-cluttered gallows. No dying beggars sat outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in place of children. The darkness over Knockturn Alley hung thick and black, far from the ashen, exposed husk left behind by the Light Purges' burnings. Storefronts were unbarred, shoppers unbowed, and she hadn't yet seen one wanted poster anywhere. In a future not so far from where she sat, you couldn't see the brick for them.

Rolling her eyes, Rita snapped up to a proper sitting position and turned her back to the memories in the window. Pragmatism, she thought. You mustn't lose that now, darling.

She had an article to write. Oh, and what an article it would be! She was sure it would take pride of place even over the other two critical acclaims she had framed on her wall. Respectively they had exposed the corruption of Cornelius Fudge and the feebleness of Albus Dumbledore. The Dumbledore one she was particularly fond of. He'd lost Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot because of her!

…She supposed Malfoy had something to do with it, too, but that was just details.

Her new pièce de resistance would certainly send even more heads rolling—Sirius Black: innocent, never even proven guilty! The article would be dominated by a comprehensive photo spread of the young Lord Back. He would saunter across the page, young and gorgeous and clad in auror robes, laughing arm-in-arm with James Potter. A touching photo where he cradled the young baby saviour, teary as a new father himself, followed it. And then his later inmate photos, his face by turns furious and horrified. She concluded with a shot of him taken upon his release. The camera lingered on his emaciated body, focusing on how he clung to his cousin Narcissa Black Malfoy like only her ramrod posture kept him on his feet. Between the visceral, heart-wrenching photos, she wrote a scathing rundown of the circumstances of his arrest, lack of trial, and hushed transfer to a maximum-security Azkaban cell.

The article went on to include the arrest of Peter Pettigrew, hiding as a cowardly rat in Hogwarts, with schoolchildren, in their dormitories. It would herald Severus Snape as a hero for apprehending the Animagus and summoning the authorities, as well as shine a good light on Amelia Bones for her prompt actions regarding the abuse of Lord Sirius Black. Dumbledore would be thrown under the bus, though they needed to wait for Sirius to heal before they could interview him regarding whether Dumbledore knew of the change in Secret Keeper.

Come the Monday morning release, all of Wizarding Britain (Wizarding Europe? Possibly the entire Wizarding World) would care for was that Sirius Black, superstar auror, war hero, godfather of the Boy Who Lived, and Lord of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, had been sentenced to Azkaban, innocent and without a trial.

She could already hear the angry roar of wizarding citizens in the streets. If Lord Black could be sent to Azkaban without a trial, what chance did the commoners have?

None at all, would be the answer the government's inaction would provide.

Rita resisted the pang in her heart. She hoped Amelia was prepared to deal with the fallout. Even if Rita had done her best to show Amelia favorably, there would still be backlash against the Ministry. This article justified every anarchist, every reformist, and every monarchist looking for a return to a wizarding kingdom rooted in the Old Ways. Keeping the political structure as it was would be a hell of a task.

Rita smiled faintly. If anyone could handle such a clusterfuck, she was sure it was Amelia Bones.

Sighing, Rita turned to the filing cabinet on her left. Like everything in her office, it fit three criteria: elegant, expensive, and effective. After allowing the filing cabinet to read her magical signature, the top draw popped open. Flipping through the notes of various future articles—the Malfoy Divorce, the Weasley Potions Scandal, the Lockhart Lawsuit—Rita pulled out the information she had on the Magical Children's Act and the Amendments. She would have these written up in the Saturday and Sunday editions, as a lead up to the Black story. If Amelia were shown pushing for reform even before there was a call for it, most of the public rage should be deflected onto past regimes. Of course, Rita couldn't look too pro-Ministry, lest she lose credence with her readership. But she could help a bit.

Biting her lip, Rita debated what to do with the Malfoy and Weasley articles. They weren't technically as pressing as the Ministry politics, but she would be damned if she let the hype around the Weasley Scandal die. She would never have a better opportunity to build up Arthur's reputation or to drag Molly's through the mud. As for the Malfoys, well, Narcissa was a dear friend. Rita doubted she would have made it out of Hogwarts if Narcissa hadn't helped her and convinced her family to act as Rita's sponsor.

Narcissa deserved the freedom of her divorce, and she deserved a complimentary article to welcome her back to single society. Rita would fit it into the Saturday morning addition if it killed her. Amelia could just make do with having Sunday as her I'm-the-new-Minister day before the Black story broke on Monday.

Pushing her curly hair back, Rita pulled it into an atrocious excuse for a bun and rang her assistant for the strongest cup of coffee known to magic-kind. Truly, Rita thought, There is no rest for the wicked. Even when we're doing the right thing!

Alright, I'm still behind on replies, but I hope you take this chapter as a good excuse. You people are wonderful, by the way - I could ask for no better, more motivating audience! Also, I included a bit of a crossover in here. Can anyone tell me what it is and where it's from? In addition, we get the first hints of who Amelia is probably being shipped with, so I hope you guys liked that. Edited newly on 8/13/2022.

I hope to hear from you soon! You're all lovely!

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666