Lord Robert Greengrass was not a man who fit into the usual mold of upper class British magical society. He had given up his hereditary seat in the Wizengamot in favor of securing a seat in the Folkmoot. He did business with just about anyone, regardless of blood status. He was known to hire Squibs and even Muggles clued into the magical world due to having a magical relative. He had extensive business dealings in the Muggle world and the magical world. In the Folkmoot, he was known for supporting fairly progressive, though not radical, initiatives.

Many people accused him of being a bleeding heart or a dangerous radical, but the simple fact of the matter was that Robert wasn't either of those things. He was simply an intelligent businessman. His motivations were not derived from altruism, but simple pragmatism. There was more money to be made through inclusion than exclusion. It didn't matter what one's blood status was to Robert; their gold spent just the same. Rather than being stuck in the past like Malfoy and Dumbledore, albeit in extremely different ways, Robert believed in looking to the future and adjusting to change. It was how he'd become as rich as he was now.

Robert was a forward-thinking, clear-minded individual – both traits distressingly rare in magical society these days – and he did not like what he was seeing. The Statute of Secrecy was the most paramount pillar of magical society, but these days, it was becoming frayed. In his more pessimistic moments, Robert wondered whether or not it would last the decade, and even in his most optimistic moments, he believed it was inevitable he would live to see it fall.

It was impossible to overstate how much of a disaster this would be for the magical world. The Muggles would, understandably, not be amused to learn of a hidden society operating alongside them, and, more to the point, the fact their memories were routinely being tampered with in order to hide it. Fear and paranoia would reign supreme. The Muggles would make it their business to destroy all mages. Magic, itself, would survive, of course, but magical society would be destroyed within years.

Robert did not particularly care about any of this insofar as it affected the magical community at large, but he did care about the welfare of himself and, even more so, his family. Many people had accused him of being heartless, but in actuality, Robert loved his wife and daughters with all his heart. Everything he'd done was to make sure they had a comfortable, happy life. Under ordinary circumstances, Robert would happily move all of his assets to the Muggle world and pretend to be an ordinary Muggle. If he never used magic, how would they ever know he wasn't one of them?

But for his daughters' sake, he had to delay the collapse of the Statute as long as possible. It was impossible to stop it – Muggle technology was just becoming too advanced for it to be sustainable – but it could be slowed down. At the very least, he wanted to delay it at least until Astoria had graduated from Hogwarts. But the longer it lasted, the better. Daphne's curse could not be cured in the Muggle world, and it was unlikely Astoria's curse would be cured there. Robert's top priority was ridding his daughters of the curses that meant they would respectively be given an early death and make very few, if any, connections to anyone at all, and everything else was secondary to that.

In trying to determine what could be done to strengthen the Statute, Robert had come to some distressing conclusions. First and foremost, Britain was one of the weakest points of the Statute. Few people truly understood Muggles in magical Britain. The level of ignorance was astonishing, actually. Mages didn't understand what electricity was, what cars were, and any one of a thousand things that would make them stick out like a sore thumb in Muggle London. The Obliviators had been working overtime. They were overworked and underpaid and their department was becoming increasingly corrupt, and there were few things more vile than rogue Obliviators.

So what was it that caused magical Britain to have problems that countries like France and Spain didn't seem to have? The obvious answer was that it was a question of education. So when one of the members of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts had retired, Robert had spent quite a few favors to be elected as her replacement. It was just in the nick of time too, because the Triwizard Tournament was being held in Hogwarts and, incredibly, a fourteen year old was being forced to compete. It was absolutely disgraceful. Why, if the protections on the Goblet had been useless, then Daphne could have been forced to compete if someone had entered her name!

When the newspaper article had come out regarding a troll and a basilisk being present in the school several years ago – while Daphne was there! – Robert realized that everything the Board of Governors was being told was simply bullshit. So he decided to go to the school himself to get a look at things. If he didn't like the looks of what he was seeing, he was going to go straight to Minister Fudge. Fudge would listen, if only because Robert had always supported him in the Folkmoot and Fudge needed Robert's support more than he even needed Malfoy's. If Malfoy tried to make a fuss, he'd simply outbribe the bastard. Malfoy may have been more politically powerful and magically powerful, but Robert was richer.

He was met practically the instant he arrived at the gates by an outwardly serene looking Dumbledore, but Robert thought he could detect a glimmer of panic in the man's eyes. Though it was hard to tell given how much they twinkled these days.

"Ah, Robert, so good to see you, but I'm sure there's no need to stay here, my boy," Dumbledore said with a wide smile and, yes, there was definitely a twinge of fear on his face.

Robert felt a compulsion slam against his mental shields. It was shockingly strong, but Robert was one of the most skilled Occlumens to ever live. He had been training himself in the art ever since Daphne had been born so he would remember her; the idea of him forgetting her one day was the thing he feared the most. "As a member of the Board of Governors, I am entitled to make surprise inspections at my leisure, headmaster," he said in an even tone with steel in it. "As you well know."

Dumbledore tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace. "Oh, certainly. Your daughter will be most delighted to see you." Robert wasn't sure whether or not Dumbledore remembered Daphne existed; it would be well within his capabilities to do so. It would be in character for him to pretend he didn't to give the impression of weakness – though also in character for him to be so overconfident that he hadn't been keeping up his shields sufficiently enough he had really forgotten her. Either way, it didn't matter right now.

"As I will be delighted to see her," Robert said politely. "You really should make more opportunities for parents to see their children, Albus. It's not fair on them to see their children so infrequently, especially the Muggle parents."

"I will take it under advisement," Dumbledore said, which obviously meant it would happen when hell froze over. Fine. Robert would pick his battles, and that one wasn't worth fighting, not when he could see his children at his leisure.

Dumbledore led Robert inside, chattering inanely all the way. It was just an act, of course. The lovably eccentric headmaster routine always had been. Dumbledore was a player of games, he always had been. The problem was that Robert had no clue what game he was playing and what the victory conditions were, and he did not like that at all.

"Tell me, Albus, what is the meaning behind all these Potter is a cheater badges I'm seeing around here," Robert said flatly. Practically everyone seemed to be wearing one, and Robert did not like it at all. It spoke to either an active vendetta of the staff against Potter or an almost criminal level of negligence and neither one amused Robert.

"It's just spirited, youthful hijinks," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Nothing to concern yourself with, my boy." Once more, Robert felt the compulsion slam into him, but this time, he let it through. There was more to be gained from making Dumbledore overconfident than pressing about an issue that Robert had very little power to fix. "Young Astoria has been getting quite good grades, especially in Charms."

Robert gave a genuine fond smile. "That's excellent news. Of course, I always knew she was marked for greatness."

The two of them finally reached Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore held up a tray. "Have a lemon drop, my boy."

"Ah, I'd love to, Albus," Robert lied. There was no telling what that thing was laced with. "But my wife insists I cut sweets out of my diet, and what Persephone wants, Persephone gets."

"I quite understand, Robert," Dumbledore said, but there was a sour note in his expression. "Well, what brings you to our illustrious school?"

"Just a routine inspection," Robert said in the most assuring voice he had available to him. "I'm going to be auditing some of the classes. In particular, I'm interested in Potions, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies."

Dumbledore faltered for a few seconds. "Can I ask why you're interested in auditing our Potions class?" It took all of Robert's self-control not to smirk. He knew that would provoke a reaction from Dumbledore. It was an open secret that Snape's odious behavior and poor teaching skills was causing a decline in the quantity of potion specialists these days. By making Dumbledore worry his pet Death Eater was at risk, he would focus entirely on preventing a disaster there and not realize that Robert's true goal was auditing the Muggle Studies courses.

"We've received a number of concerns about Severus's conduct," Robert said, letting disapproval enter his voice. "As I am sure you can imagine, the brewing of potions is absolutely vital to the community and it does not behoove us to have substandard potioneers."

Dumbledore gave a practiced politician's smile. "I assure you, Severus has my complete confidence."

"And I sincerely hope I'll be able to say the same after I view him in action," Robert retorted. "But what we've been hearing is quite concerning."

As Robert planned, Dumbledore spent the rest of the meeting trying to defend Snape against varying accusations, some of which Robert simply made up out of whole cloth. Robert was honestly starting to believe Snape's conduct was a legitimate concern, but he had been nothing but evenhanded towards Robert's daughters and to the best of Robert's knowledge, there had been no major injuries in his class, so he would deal with that later. Dumbledore was so predictable when you knew what his levers were – it was trying to locate the damn things that was the problem.

Dumbledore had some sort of agenda, but Robert was damned if he knew what it was. His actions were wildly inconsistent. One moment, he was tossing Death Eaters like Black into Azkaban without a trial and the next he was bending over backwards to support the equally nefarious Snape. He backed bills in public and sabotaged them in public and vice versa. His positions were all over the political spectrum to the point where Robert was giving serious thought to the crazy idea he might be choosing them at random. The one unifying trend was that the magical community seemed to be worse off no matter what position Dumbledore picked.

In truth, Snape wasn't as bad as Robert had feared he would be. True, the man was acerbic and a terror to be around and Robert disliked his tendency to give personal insults to his students, but he knew the material inside and out and Robert felt it was necessary to take a much firmer hand in a classroom environment that was so dangerous. The one thing that did raise alarm bells was the tendency of Slytherins to try to sabotage Gryffindor potions. It was distasteful – as a Slytherin himself, Robert never would have resorted to sinking so low – but more to the point, it was dangerous. Robert gave a blistering lecture to Snape, pointing out the many dangers, especially to the Slytherins, to letting such behavior continue. He seemed to take it under advisement, though who knew if his behavior would change.

The Arithmancy course was top notch. Professor Vector was a skilled instructor with a vast knowledge of her material, and Robert had no complaints, though he did have to concede that he was probably not the best person to evaluate her given his own dismal skills at the art. It was possible a more skilled practitioner would see something he'd missed.

But Muggle Studies…

Muggle Studies was an unmitigated disaster. An absolute and complete shitshow. It would have been an excellent primer for the Muggle World…if you were living in the Victorian Era. As it were, it was horrendously out of date. Fashion, vehicles, customs, technology, it was just all wildly inaccurate, and there was absolutely no doubt in Robert's mind that it was the reason for the problems Britain was having with the statute. To make matters worse, since it was mandatory for every seventh year pureblood to take the class, hundreds of mages were being sent out into the world with no comprehension of how Muggles operated. It was a disaster in the making and it had to stop as quickly as possible.

Robert couldn't help but wonder why this state of affairs had been allowed to continue for so long. Had no Muggleborn ever complained about the inaccuracy of the material? It seemed quite improbable. No, Robert suspected some darker conspiracy at work. But, as was often the case with Dumbledore, he couldn't even begin to imagine what the endgame was. The only conceivable reason for Dumbledore letting this state of affairs continue was if he wanted the Statute to collapse. Which was silly, because what would he have to gain?

After a long day of auditing classes, Robert finally returned to the headmaster's office. He'd wanted very much to speak to Daphne and Astoria, but Astoria was busy studying for an important test and he decided to not speak to Daphne, lest he somehow bring her to Dumbledore's attention. Still, it had been quite productive. He'd learned some interesting points, and while he didn't have answers, at least now he knew what questions to ask.

"So I trust my – our school here meets with your continued approval, my friend?" Dumbledore asked genially. The slip did not go unnoticed, but Robert decided to ignore it.

"Largely," Robert said evasively. "I would like you to ask Professor Snape to be…gentler with the students, especially the younger years. Potions does require more discipline than average, but there is such a thing as a happy medium, headmaster."

"I will be sure to impart your advice to young Severus," Dumbledore said, no doubt lying through his teeth.

"Also, I found your Muggle studies curriculum to be quite out of date," Robert said, pitching his voice deliberately to sound casual. "Perhaps we should bring in some Muggleborns to audit the classes…"

Dumbledore suddenly stood up, his face looking somewhat panicked. "Now, now, my boy, I'm sure you'll find there's no need for –"

"There is every need, Albus," Robert said, putting steel in his tone. "If we cannot understand the Muggles, we cannot fulfill the Statute of Secrecy."

Dumbledore sent a strong mental probe into Robert's mind. Robert's intransigence was clearly frustrating him. But the probe didn't reach past the guardians in Robert's mindscape. He deflected the probe and just for a few seconds, he caught the barest flash of the emotions going on in Dumbledore's mind. There was fear and despair and horror. Something was very, very wrong inside the old man's head.

Then just as suddenly as it began, the war of wills came to a sudden halt. "I will take this matter before the full board, Robert," Dumbledore vowed. "You had best be prepared to defend your position."

"I…will be," Robert said as if saying something to a dull-witted child. "With plenty of examples to prove my point." Really, what was he thinking? It didn't take a genius to prove the existence of things like airplanes and telephones.

"Well, until then," Dumbledore said in a clearly dismissive tone. Robert was more than happy to get the hell out of there.

What the hell was going on with Dumbledore? And were his children at risk? Robert didn't know the answers to those questions. But he was going to make sure he wasn't the only one that would be asking them soon enough.

Rita had never believed in the purity of blood. It was painfully obvious to her that everyone was awful, spiteful, and motivated by fear and no one, not the most pureblooded aristocrat nor the most common Muggle, was exempt from it. She did not believe Muggles were superior or inferior. And they certainly had their uses, especially to a journalist such as herself. Muggle technology had long been Rita's secret weapon. They had the most marvelous cameras that could take pictures at a very long distance. And they had electronic recording devices which most mages couldn't even conceive of. True, such things didn't work in areas where there was a high concentration of magic like Hogwarts, but they worked well in other locations.

So Rita was actually extremely well at home in the Muggle world. In fact, in some ways, she liked it better than the magical world. Her enemies didn't even have the slightest clue how to find her there, which would have been worth it all on its own. But she loved the fashions, the technology, the cars, all that drive and innovation Muggles had in spades. And the food! Oh, there was just an amazing variety of it from all cultures. Magical food, especially in Britain, got so repetitive after a while.

But Rita's most recent foray into the Muggle world wasn't just for the sake of advancing her pallet. No, she was there on business. Her recent exposé on Potter's past had been a sensational success. She'd gotten at least fourteen death threats! (Rita had always judged her success based on the number of death threats she got from the article; if she wasn't upsetting people, she wasn't doing her job.) She'd only once had an article go into double digits before! And her editor was hungering for more juicy details about Potter.

So she decided she would do the one thing no one else had managed to do before: she was going to get the inside scoop on exactly who Potter had been raised by. (Sure, it would put him in danger, but what did she care? Besides, he slew a basilisk; he could handle himself.) No one had the slightest idea who was raising Potter. Rumors abounded, but not one of them, in Rita's estimation, were true. The problem with everyone else was that they were blinded by belief in their own superiority. They assumed Potter had been raised in the magical world.

But what if he wasn't? After all, though a great many people preferred to pretend otherwise, Lily Potter, nee Evans, had been a Muggleborn. What if, to keep Potter's location from Death Eaters, he had been sent to live in the Muggle world with relatives of his mother?

There was a special department in the Ministry that covered for Muggleborns with the Muggle authorities, maintaining the fiction of Hogwarts being an exclusive boarding school for social services, providing credentials for Muggle secondary schools, and so forth. Like everything pertaining to Muggleborns, they were considered to be the lowest of the low on the Ministry hierarchy and their pay was criminally low. Which made them ripe targets for bribery. It didn't take long for Rita to gain access to Lily's file, which gave her former address.

Upon arrival in Cokeworth, Rita made a beeline for the city hall where the records department was located. Muggles were so meticulous about keeping records, she'd found. It was so very helpful. The clerk there proved more intractable than the ones at the Ministry, but a Confundus charm later, Rita learned that while Lily's parents were deceased, she had a sister named Petunia. And if Potter hadn't been raised by his aunt, Rita would eat her hat. That was just the sort of thing Dumbledore would pull.

Asking around about her old friend Petunia in pubs eventually got her the information that Petunia had moved to London soon after graduating from secondary school. Rita was able to find a marriage license for Petunia Evans and Vernon Dursley. That was all the information she needed to track the Dursleys down to their home at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

Rita walked up to the house and knocked on the door. She was dressed in the most professional, Muggle like clothing she possessed. There was no call to make a scene. Not with the plan she'd come up with. She knocked on the door and it was opened by one of the most unpleasant looking women she'd ever had the displeasure of seeing. It wasn't her physical appearance that was so problematic, but the look on her face, like everything was beneath her.

"Yes? Can I help you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Dursley," Rita said politely. "It's about your nephew."

Petunia's face went slack, her pallor chalk white with fury. "What has the…boy done now?"

"Perhaps this conversation would best be conducted in private?" Rita suggested. If she had read Petunia right, and she was really very rarely wrong about such things, then Petunia was probably pathologically obsessed with looking good to the neighbors. She knew the type. People were the same no matter how much magic they had.

"My name is Rita Skeeter, and I'm a reporter," Rita said without preamble. Petunia let out a sharp intake of breath. "Your nephew has made quite a name for himself in his four years of schooling. He's widely regarded as a hero."

"How…nice," Petunia said with a sickly smile.

Rita bared her teeth for a second. Petunia took a step backwards in fright. People like her had always looked down on Rita. True, it wasn't like they had necessarily been wrong, but it was still nice to see her squirm. "I, however, don't believe in heroes. I believe that behind every hero is a dark secret."

Petunia's eyes glittered with malice. "Well. In that case, perhaps I could treat you to a cup of tea, Miss Skeeter."

Petunia led Rita to the kitchen where she served her some tea and scones. Whatever else could be said about Petunia, she at least made a superlative tea. It was almost a shame to ruin Petunia's own cup by lacing it with Veritaserum. Rita had to listen through a tedious hour of Petunia lying through her teeth about her nephew's delinquency before Petunia went to the loo and gave Rita an opportunity to lace the tea. While a lesser reporter would have just taken those lies and ran with them, Rita was determined to unearth the truth. Once she learned it, she would figure out whether or not it was interesting enough for a story or if she had to spice it up (read: lie her ass off).

It took a very short amount of time before the Veritaserum took affect. "What is your opinion of your nephew?" Rita asked.

"I hate him," Petunia said, her vehemence clear even through the strict monotone the serum forced on its victims. "I wish I'd never taken him in. I hoped he wouldn't end up like my awful sister, but he's a freak just like her. He's no family of mine."

Oh, this was so good. "Tell me how you treated him as a child."

"I ignored him mostly," Petunia said. "Gave him chores to keep him busy, keep him too busy to experiment with that blasted magic. Vernon slapped him around a little. Dudley too. Nothing that required hospitalization. He lived there." She pointed to a nearby boot cupboard.

Rita walked over to the cupboard and gasped. She was not a woman who possessed a single, solitary scruple, but even she balked at the idea of a child living in such a small, dismal space. Were those spiders? Oh, Merlin, there were spiders in there. After taking pictures with a Muggle camera, she marched back to the table, surprised at how angry she was.

"Why did you take him in if you hate him so much?" Rita demanded.

"There was a letter," Petunia said. "From Albus Dumbledore." Rita's eyes lit up. This was just getting better and better! This was written proof that Dumbledore had at least facilitated abuse. Of course, it wasn't as if he could have known that Petunia would treat him this way, but who the hell cared about that when there was a juicy story to tell?

Rita demanded the location of the letter and quickly found it. The letter was frustratingly vague. It informed Petunia of her sister's death, but not the cause or perpetrator. It mentioned protection as long as Harry saw the place as home, but not the nature of such protection. If it was keeping mages with hostile intent away, then it had demonstrably failed, as Rita was self-aware to realize her actions probably qualified as hostile. It was so…callous. Beautifully callous. She was going to sell so many papers with this.

By the time Rita returned to the kitchen, the Veritaserum was wearing off. "What – what did you do to me?" Petunia demanded. She reached towards a knife tray, but Rita was quicker. She wasn't sure whether or not it was a good idea to cast spells in the home – who knew what monitoring charms Dumbledore had placed on the house – so instead Rita punched Petunia in the face. She followed it up with a swift kick to the knee, causing her to fall to the ground.

Rita held out her wand and pointed it at Petunia's forehead and Petunia froze. "You…amaze me. You might well be the stupidest person I've ever met. Your nephew is internationally famous. He is incredibly rich. You could have been set up for life if you'd treated him even slightly decently! But instead, you had to be stupid enough to antagonize the wizard who defeated You Know Who!"

"I don't…I don't know who…"

"Your sister's killer," Rita said curtly. Petunia let out a gasp. "Now if you know what's good for you, Petunia Evans, you'll get out of the country. Your confession will be in our papers soon. Our people don't take too kindly to child abusers."

"Get out of my house!"

"Gladly," Rita said. "The stench of hypocrisy is just too much for me, dear."

Rita was sitting on a bombshell, but it wasn't quite time to let it explode just yet. No, she'd wait until the First Task was finished. She wanted Potter fresh in people's minds before she released what could be the most scandalous story of her entire career. She would bring down Dumbledore, maybe even the Ministry if they had been complicit. It was going to be magnificent. The British public would get a deliciously juicy story and, heck, maybe Potter would get better guardians. Everyone would win, but especially Rita. And that was just the way she liked it.