Dumbledore had requisition Mad-Eye to bring the Marquis. He was expected to wait in Trafalgar Square, with Lady Door. Apparently, Door had decided, at the last minute, to go with the Marquis.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried, but he didn't have time to be either, because Alastor, Door, and the Marquis were in his office, having Portkeyed in. Alastor spoke first.

"The man stinks of dark magic, but the girl's covered in time - I'd say she was using a time-turner on a daily basis, but she's pure muggle, and the time is too contained to be used, it just clings to her. The man, the Marquis, he smells like Riddle did, like the Death Eaters did - coal, blood, smoke, and burning flesh. He did something really dark just before coming here. I hope you know what you're doing, Albus."

And then he left, leaving Dumbledore to carefully consider his choices. The Marquis was looking at the silver objects and instruments in his office, while Door was flipping through a book.

"Would you like a tour, Marquis?"

"An explanation, first."

There was only one chair in front of his desk, and the Marquis took it. He quickly conjured a sensible, wooden chair for Door.

"Alright, now to introductions. I am the Marquis de Carabas, this is the lovely Lady Door, and you must be Headmaster Dumbledore. Let's have a quid pro quo. What are all those fancy machines for?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Marquis de Carabas. This one monitors the Acromantulas that Hagrid befriended. If the colony gets too big, I'll discreetly make it smaller. That one monitors the average happiness of the Ravenclaws, that one of the Slytherins, that one of the Hufflepuffs, and that one of the Gryffindors..." It took a small while to give all these brief explanations. He refused to explain how they worked - the Marquis was going to ruin them somehow if he did so.

Now, it was time for his question. (It was interesting to see that the Lady Door was still reading her book, though now she came to sit in the chair he had conjured for her. A book on Animagi? Interesting...)

"Why do you smell of Dark magic?"

"Because I performed Dark magic. My turn. What do you know of the Fae?"

"I... they have a talent in contracts. They are not quite of this world. They can be repelled by iron, though they dislike salt. Every so often, one of them will mate with a human. There was a colony, in France, that is still Fae, but their powers are... diluted, or rather, slightly changed to suit the needs of Earth, because they have lived over here for so long. Those are the Veela. Same thing for Greece, the Sirens are another Fae tribe that was changed, slightly, by living on Earth for so long. The Fae take care of their own - every Fae is born with a separate name, a sort of separate identity. That separate identity, that name, holds the key to all their Fae powers. That's it. Why ask me this question?"

"Because I wanted to know the answer. Why did you leave Harry at his aunt's doorstep?"

"Because he would be safest there. How did you know about that?"

"My sources told me. Will you take me on that tour?"

"Most certainly. Lady Door?" Dumbledore stood, as did the Marquis, but Door simply glanced up.

"May I borrow this book, Headmaster?"

"Certainly. May I ask why?"

"A friend of mine is studying animagi. This seems like a good book. Also, I've decided that the Marquis cannot possibly destroy everything this quickly, so I'm going to leave him in your hands. Do try to end the day without owing him. And please send me back to Trafalgar Square."

Dumbledore did so, then turned to start the tour. Perhaps the library first? And then the Great Hall...? Or the new rooms that were added by Remus and Door and Richard.

At any rate, he would show everything, and from now on, he would give as little information as possible.

At home, Door was met with a group of people in the living room. Richard, Harry, Remus, Ingress, Andromeda, Ted, Fleur, Apolline, Apolline's other daughter, who was a year and a few months -what was her name? Gaby? Gavrielle? Gabrielle! - and Apolline's husband. She immediately tossed the book in Harry's direction, and he caught it, glanced at the title and groaned.

Another animagus book! Just because he couldn't do it, couldn't get farther than the meditation point, didn't mean everyone had to help!

"So, I did as we planned - went to check out how Dumbledore would handle the Marquis. I think that it'll be all right. Dumbledore gives a lot of information, but nothing useful, so the Marquis won't learn anything new. And the idea of the Marquis giving useful information is laughable. So they'll just try to outsmart each other. And the teachers... well, apart from Snape, they don't know anything useful, and Snape's like Dumbledore."

Everyone nodded, and quickly went back to trying to decorating the tree. It was so much more important than trying to stop people from taking over the world - people like Voldemort, people like the Marquis.

If Voldemort owed the Marquis a single favor...

Door's rumination was forcibly stopped when Ingress pulled her away.

"All right, what have you done to Remus?"

"I'm sorry...?"

"He's young. Like, seventeen! And he was older than you! And don't tell me this is just some prank - that worked on Apolline and Fleur and the father whose name I cannot pronounce cuz damned French, but that won't work on me or Remus."

"He loves you. He doesn't know it yet, not really, and he has a huge guilt complex because he's a were, but his wolf, Moony is head over heals for you, and Remus the human isn't far behind. But he doesn't want to inflict himself on you, and also, he's too old for you, so we've turned back the body clock."

"He stinks of Dark magic! It's dangerous - Dark magic is always permanent or semi-permanent in intention! If you do it, there's no going back! And he stinks of it! The French won't notice, but I'm gonna be an auror so I'm studying how to tell if people used Dark Magic, and Remus might have agreed to be younger in principle, but that doesn't mean he thinks it's literally a good idea!"

"Alright! Calmit, Ingress. Yes, it was dark magic. Yeah, he's going to have nightmares. But this way, he has a second chance to be happy! And yes, the ritual required several sacrifices. So? The Marquis sacrificed two lower level Death Eaters for the ritual, because you know what? To be a Death Eater, you have to kill someone. That's murder. And if this ritual requires the blood of a murder murdered, then who are we to argue? I and Andromeda just went into the ministry and stunned the first two Death Eaters that crossed our paths! We handed them off to the Marquis, and off we go, the Death Eaters get their just desserts, and Remus gets younger!"

"And what about the 'blood of the innocent'? Did you just kill a child?"

"No. We found a robin, and killed it. Innocent blood - not human blood."

"How did you know that the people you stunned were Death Eaters?"

"Amelia Bones has a special map of the ministry - it shows the names of everyone in the ministry, and where they are. And.. the Death Eaters turn up red on the map, because their magic is different from everyone else's, and they're classified differently in the Ministry's wards. Look, we were careful. But now, Remus has a second chance, and the only thing that made people disprove of the two of you is the age difference. Now he's seventeen. You're thirteen. That's a four year difference, it's not so bad, so all the disapproval will leave. Mentally, he's still... what? Forty? Older. It doesn't matter."

Ingress stared at her sister.

"That's a lot of planning for just one ritual. Changing the ministry's wards? An entire map?"

"It's not just for the ritual... Ingress, our father refused to help Islington, and Islington had us all killed. Do you honestly think that the Death Eaters will let Harry go? That Voldemort won't come back?"

Well. Ingress swallowed.

"I was going to be an auror, anyway. It's nice to know that I'll have some real enemies to fight against." And she was really really really happy that Remus was here. Cuz he was hot, and patient and great, and had some wicked prank ideas. He was a good teacher, and gentle and sweet and it wasn't like he had any other girls to speak to.

Her crush was perfect.

Door raised an eyebrow at Ingress' blissful expression. She wasn't sure if it was at the idea of fighting, or if it was about Remus. At any rate...

"Why don't we go back to the party?" She suggested.

Daily Prophet news was so very accurate.

Apparently, having read an article about Rita Skeeter insulting Dumbledore, Andromeda and Apolline had requested several bottles of veritaseum from Snape, and for Harry to write out several contracts. There were two different contracts, and the witches could just make a copy of whichever contract was needed.

The first contract went like this:

I, Dubhshláine, am the author of this contract.

I, _, am an editor of the Daily Prophet. I, _, agree to make sure that the Daily Prophet's articles are as close to fact as possible, and any opinions are clearly labeled as such. Furthermore, I, _, agree to make sure that for most of the opinions discussed in the Prophet, there will be a counter-opinions, so in each article, there are two opinions - one for each side of the argument, with as many relevant facts as possible supporting each opinion. I will do my best to make the Daily Prophet as bias-free as possible. I won't let anyone know about this contract.

In return for the editor signing the contract, I, Dubhshláine, give the Daily Prophet right to interview one Harry James Potter every nine months on any issue. These interview rights cannot be used at a later point - if Harry Potter is not interviewed for nine months, that does not mean that he can be interviewed twice during next nine-month period.

The second contract went somewhat similarly:

I, Dubhshláine, am the author of this contract.

I, _, am a journalist working for the Daily Prophet, and this contract will only be in effect while I, _ work for the Daily Prophet. I agree to make my articles as fact-based as possible, and any opinions will be clearly labelled as such. If possible, for as many points of view in the articles I submit to the Daily Prophet, there will be a counter-arguments and opinions. Both points of view will be equally researched and will be written about with as little bias as possible, and with as many facts as possible. The Journalist will not let anyone know of this contract.

In return for the journalist signing the contract, I, Dubhshláine, give the Daily Prophet right to interview one Harry James Potter every nine months on any issue. These interview rights cannot be used at a later point - if Harry Potter is not interviewed for nine months, that does not mean that he can be interviewed twice during next nine-month period.

So, during the weekend, Apolline went into the Daily Prophet's office, asking to be interviewed privately by one journalist at a time - she was looking for a private reporter to explain the relationship between the French and British ministry.

She would talk to reporters one at a time, and choose whichever reporter she wanted. Naturally, all the men lined up. She was a Veela, and her allure was slightly on.

Meanwhile, Andromeda was disillusioned and covered with notice-me-not charms. And standing nearby the reporter who was leading Apolline to a separate room. As soon as the two witches and one wizard were alone in the room, Apolline summoned the boy's wand, and Andromeda forced Veritaseum down his throat. He couldn't see her, how could he fight against her without a wand when she had one at his temple?

"What is your name and how do you spell it?"

"Daniel Ruthford. D-A-N-I-E-L space R-U-T-H-F-O-R-D."

Apolline smiled and gave him the journalist contract.

"Sign. Or my associate will blow your brains out. Don't forget to read the contract!"

The boy signed, quickly reading the contract afterwards. It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway. He slowly looked up after re-reading it.

"I guess I'll just go and send the next reporters in, one at a time. Right?" His voice was quiet and... hopeful? Well, he figured it out. Smart boy - probably Ravenclaw, thought Andromeda, although Ravens weren't the only smart people.

"Yes. And after that, the editors, one at a time. You may announce it however you wish, but all reporters and all editors must go through this room one at a time before midnight."

Apolline wasn't sure what the boy said. Apparently, it involved some curse being broken by the true kiss of the master storyteller, which was why she had come to the Daily Prophet. If they didn't want to kiss, she could tell them about the French Ministry. They bought it.

They also all lined up hopefully, whether at a chance to kiss or at a chance to report the ongoings of the French up to the separate people.

But after that day, the Daily Prophet's writing was suddenly the new goal - Witch Weekly wanted its reporters to have stories like that, stories that were easy to follow and told both sides of the story. Furthermore, so many people subscribed to the Daily Prophet that they began printing twice as many newspapers.

It also meant that the deaths of every Azkaban Death Eater received a full page coverage, with photos of each Death Eater and a list of crimes next to each name, with a brief overview of the trials.

...

Then Rita Skeeter, chaffing under the new contract, found out that Sirius Black never had a trial. She interviewed Minister Fudge about this, and then went on a rampage, asking Amelia Bones what she thought before going to every Wizengamot member and Albus Dumbledore himself, asking why a human being never received a trial. Was there proof that he was guilty, anyway? Rita paused, then smirked.

As a journalist, she could interview prisoners. It was time to ask Black himself what he thought... and she had veritaseum. Illegally bought, but that's acceptable by the contract - no one said how she had to get her information.

Or, maybe... With a small smirk, Rita Skeeter asked Bones to accompany her for this interview. After all, Bones' reaction would be rather fun to write, especially since someone had donated a pensive and a camera to the Daily Prophet. Now, each story had photos - the person interviewed could give memories so that they would be photographed, or the reporter him/herself could donate his/her memories to be photographed.

"Peter Pettigrew is a rat animagus without a finger...Oh, the story!"

Then Bones gasped.
"You can't print this! If Pettigrew reads that and runs away - Skeeter, I'm asking you to find me a rat with nineteen fingers, that's been alive for nine years. Pettigrew's lazy, so he's probably someone's pet, and rat's don't cost much, so someone poor. And if you bring me the rat, I'll give rights to interview me - so no one else can. Is that alright?"

There was a beat of silence.

"All right. But after Pettigrew's captured, can I write out the whole story? Including that I got him?" Bones blinked at the question. She wanted justice - how the story was told wasn't her business. Instead, she told Black to stay put, they were getting him out, and grabbed Skeeter, bringing the woman to her office and rummaging through her desk.

"Yes, Yes, alright, you can have the story Now, things you'll need... a cover story, some magic-binding collars, here, you put one on any wrist, or paw, or whatever, and they bind the magic completely - should turn Pettigrew into human form and knock him unconscious, we're working on a spell that eliminates your animagus form... You cover is that you're from the, uh - Department of Research, they're checking how different Rat Whiskers effect potions, they want him for a week and no harm will come to him - he'll be fed well and treated well, we don't want him to run, here, put him in this cage, let me ward it..."

Skeeter watched, mouth half-open. She could do this, easily. Getting someone to hand over their rat? Simple! The wards, too, were simply put - they were wards that encouraged sleepiness and trust and a feeling of home.

The cage was enchanted to grow as Pettigrew did, so if he became human, the cage would grow to fit him.

Skeeter took a deep breath in.

"I'll come back for the cage within a week. Give me a minute."

Step one: spread rumors around the ministry that if you submitted your rat to Bones' department, she'd give you three sickles if its' the right type of rat. Explain that this is for research, that the rat would be treated wonderfully for the rest of its miserable life, so on and so forth.

Yes, Ms. Bones is terrifying. No one wants to bother her - what if they have the wrong type of rat, what would she do then? Three sickles aren't worth it.

Step two: Of course thee sickles are worth it! Just come to Ms. Skeeter! She'll take your rat, check if it's the right type, and if it's wrong, give it right back. If it's the right type, then great! She'll give you the three sickles and take the rat to Bones!

Step three: Check out who pays the most attention to the rumors. Arthur Weasley's poor, and he has a rat - check his home out as a beetle, and if it's the wrong rat, stay away. If it's the right rat, knock on his door. John Hopkins is rich, but he has a... rat collection?! Oh, dear. That may take a while. Verily Brown has mice. No, sorry darling, it's rats only. But would you like to comment on werewolf rights?

Note: ALWAYS carry the cage and collar with you.

Arthur Weasley had Peter Pettigrew. Or rather, his son Percy did. It only took a moment of scurrying around the kitchen in Beetle form- the rat matched Black's description perfectly. With a smile, Rita appeared in front of the Burrow and knocked on the door.

"Yes, dear?" A red-headed, plump woman opened the door. Molly Weasely.

"Hello Mrs. Weasely, I'm Ms. Skeeter. The Department of Research is looking into the effect rat whiskers have on potions, and I've heard you have a rat. I only want it for a week, please. It will be treated well, given food and water, and there are new and special spells to ensure that the rats won't feel pain when the whiskers are plucked. In return, here are three sickles. May I enter?"

Molly Weasely saved Rita in, giving her a full dinner and ordering Percy to bring down Scabbers right away. As Rita re-explained the proposal to the little boy, she made sure the rat was within hearing range.

"It's Percy's rat, ma'am, so I have to ask him for permission, and the three sickles are his."

Percy gave over the rat immediately, and Rita slipped on a collar on the front left wrist, quickly adding another on the front right, and the two back legs, before putting the rat into the cage and locking the door before it could realize that his magic was slowly being bound, using equipment from way back in Grindelwald's time, before it was decreed too harsh and not used anymore.

She gave Percy three sickles, left the Burrow, and brought Peter Pettigrew to Madam Bones before going away to print the full story... except maybe without the bit about the collars. After all, she didn't want to get in trouble for using them. At any rate, Black should have a trial very soon, and Pettigrew should be a squib within twenty-four hours... during which time he would be asleep.

Bones and Skeeter smiled the same terrifying smile, but for different reasons. Bones because justice would soon be done, and Skeeter because first of all, this story would make her the most famous reporter ever, and second of all, she'd soon get her old lover back.