The escape of twelve convicts from Azkaban is indicative of continued failure and negligence within the Ministry of Magic, Aurora wrote at her desk, struggling over an editorial letter she wanted Skeeter to help her submit. They had a meeting set for the fourteenth of February, the date of the next Hogsmeade village visit in a couple of weeks' time. Harry would be carrying out his interview with her, but Aurora wanted to get out her own words, in an anonymous forum, and Skeeter had many useful press connections. She just had to work out what she wanted to say.

For far too long, she continued writing, the Ministry of Magic and the Fudge administration have gone unchallenged in their policies and been allowed to implement whatever changes they want. From toughening legislation on the restrictions on magical creatures, to regulating press coverage of security concerns and introducing frankly inane and unnecessary measures into the educational governance of Hogwarts School, the administration and its Assembly backer, Aloysius Vabsley, seem to have been given free reign. Fudge, the head of this regime, positions himself as a jovial fellow, but there is at his heart a weakness of character and of mind, manifesting in a refusal to take counsel when it is most desperately needed.

It has transpired that the Minister was warned, many months ago, that the Dementors of Azkaban were not entirely under Ministry control. At least two rogue dementors escaped Azkaban into a Muggle neighbourhood in the south of England last summer, an early warning sign that all was not well at the prison, and yet no investigation was ever carried out. In addition, Minister Fudge was warned personally by Albus Dumbledore that the Headmaster had concerns about security, concerns which were swiftly dismissed by the Minister. Both of these decisions, and lack of action, were crucial to allowing the breakout that occurred two weeks ago, in which twelve notorious Death Eaters, between them holding a body count well into the hundreds, were allowed to escape the prison and return to these isles, to terrorise muggles and wizards alike. Whether or not one believes the recent claims that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, it cannot be denied that his followers and their ideology continue to pose a real threat to our society, one which the Ministry has a duty to acknowledge and to fight.

Two years ago, the Quidditch World Cup Final was disrupted by a group of wizards dressed in the robes of Death Eaters, who illegally used magic to harm, terrorise, and mentally addle a family of Muggles, as well as to cause general terror and damage to the campsite where thousands of wizards were staying and celebrating our international community. No one was prosecuted or even tried in connection with the attack...

Here was where Aurora's writing and thoughts trailed away. She knew what we wanted to say, what she wanted to criticise, but couldn't yet find the point she wanted to make with it. It had to be something more than mere Ministry incompetence. That was an attack that anybody could make, and one that belonged in the opposition of the Assembly. This had to come from her, even if it was anonymously, and it had to go beyond the constraints of politics. And it had to feel fresh. It had to bite.

she set it aside, mind emptying, and then turning to other issues.

So far, despite her conversation with Pansy, she had little luck in cosying up to Umbridge or figuring out what her goal was. The inquisitor was clearly suspicious, but intrigued, which Aurora could only hope might work out for her some day.

At least she didn't seem to have caught on to Aurora's membership of the DA, or to its location. She was learning quickly, better than she had been all year, and even better than she had been while practicing class work with her friends in the dormitories.

As January turned to February, work had been piling up on the fifth year students. Aurora hardly had any time to herself, stuck between classes, homework, the DA, and Quidditch and dance club. She was, however, determined to make herself enjoy the Hogsmeade visit. Gwen and Robin were having a date, which was annoying, and Leah apparently the same, though she refused to say who she was seeing. But Aurora didn't have to meet Rita Skeeter until two o'clock, which left a good few hours free to explore the new bookshop which had apparently opened up over Christmas.

When she finally gave up on her writing, Aurora stowed it away in her locked drawer and headed to dinner, finding a seat between Theo and Robin.

"You've ink on your face," Robin informed her helpfully as she sat down, and she scrubbed it forcefully, annoyed, as he laughed. "Too much essay writing?"

"Something like that," Aurora muttered.

"Aurora doesn't do anything but write these days," Gwen said from across the table, grinning at Aurora.

"I do far more!"

"Yes, right, writing, Quidditch, dancing, and disappearing for secret library sessions." Gwen waggled her eyebrows. "With no one else, apparently, though I don't think books are what's keeping you up past curfew."

"I'm not sneaking about with a boy, Gwen," she sighed, having been interrogated on this multiple times. "Some of us need to be distraction-free to study sometimes. I just have a lot to do."

The only one who seemed to believe her was Theo, who gave her a sympathetic look. Leah, who was sat beside Aurora, said, "In fairness, that last Potions essay was a rough one."

"Potions essays are always rough," Robin groaned. "I swear, Snape's in an even worse mood than ever."

"I heard he's giving Potter remedial Potions lessons," Gwen said conspiratorially, surprising Aurora, who hadn't known that had gotten out.

"I can never confirm nor deny," Aurora said with a wink. "But Merlin knows Potter needs it."

"He's not that bad," Leah said, with a shrug. "Crabbe and Goyle are worse. Although my brother seems to think Potter's a genius recently, which I don't get."

"Ernie isn't in our Potions class, though," Theo pointed out. "And to be honest, just witnessing that carnage must be enough to send Snape batty."

"Pun intended?"

Theo grinned. "Of course."

"Well, whatever," Leah muttered, scowling, "I'm more than ready to give this up entirely. I can't wait to waltz into Snape's office at career advising and tell him to shove his Draught of Living Death up his arse."

Aurora snorted with laughter, almost spilling her pumpkin juice in the process. "Watch out," Theo said, "he's coming towards us now."

"In a mood?"

"No worse than usual."

Their head of house cast Aurora a disdainful look as he swept past, black robes swirling bat-like around him.

"What's got his robes in a tangle?" Robin said, eyebrows raised.

"I'm still breathing," Aurora replied flatly, and turned to Theo, who was shaking his head at her. "Anyway, Hogsmeade — I know these three are going to be off being boring and doing disgusting things in Madam Puddifoot's which I wish to know absolutely nothing about, especially you, Robin — but, there's this new bookshop opened up which Dora wrote to me about, and it looks so sweet and quirky and cozy, and Theo, I think you'd love it."

He blinked at her in surprise, and took a moment to come to his senses. The others went quiet, watching. "I — well — you mean this Hogsmeade visit?"

"Yes," she said, wondering why it mattered. Unless it was because it was Valentine's Day. Her heart picked up a little, at the thought that that mattered to him, that their going together on that day might mean something in Theo's mind. She hadn't really contemplated the significance of the date — it felt obvious that she and Theo would go into the village together, especially when their other friends were not around — but from the look in his eyes, she wondered if she should have. But then, she might have talked herself out of asking. "Apparently they give out complementary tea to customers."

The words you don't have to were on the tip of her tongue, apologetic and panicked. But she wanted to know what he would say to the invitation as it was, without confusing things in her own head.

"I'd like to see it," Theo said, "but I've got plans with Flora."

"Flora." She should have expected it, should have known. It wasn't like she ever saw them together, but as far as she knew their families were still trying to push them together, and not even his father's escape from Azkaban would change that. "Of course," she said, cheeks burning, "sorry — I should have thought."

"No, no, it — it's not a big deal. Frankly, I'm dreading it, but… You know."

"Yeah." Aurora grimaced, staring at the table with a great, hot wave of embarrassment washing over her. "Well, if you get bored and sneak away, I'm sure it's a cool place to visit. I'll give you a full report."

"To be honest," Leah cut in, "I'm intending to escape at some point, too."

"Ah, yes," Aurora recovered blankly, determinedly not meeting Theo's eyes, "from your mystery date."

"He's not a mystery," she sighed, "he's just… Not someone I want to talk about yet."

"Yet more mystery," Gwen said, waggling her eyebrows. "Tell us, go on."

"Not a chance."

Aurora shrugged. "It's fine, I've nothing else to do, so I suppose I've plenty time to follow you."

Leah groaned. "If you can drag me away, that'd be better. Staging a stalking incident-turned-kidnapping would be great too."

"I'll start making plans," Aurora said with a laugh, then sobered. "Seriously, though — do you need out of it?"

"No," she sighed, shaking her head. "He's deeply, deeply okay. Perfectly nice and everything, he's just not…" But whatever she was about to say, she stopped herself, tight-lipped, and pretended to be deeply interested in her soup.

Beside her, Aurora could feel Theo's gaze on her, too, and felt a shiver run up her spine.

-*

Aurora needn't have worried about not having anyone to be with. Over the next two weeks, she received a deluge of invitations from boys at Hogwarts, mostly those whose family members were connected to the Assembly of Ministry, or otherwise ambitious. By boy number ten — Ravenclaw's Teviot Thorel — she was growing quite sick of the concept of boys, and of Valentine's Day. She was quite confident, given that no boys she actually knew, or wanted to know, had asked her, that she would be much happier simply going on her own, rather than having to try and entertain a random wizard, who was probably only interested in her assets — whether financial or physical, neither was as exciting as the prospect of having a date with an actually interesting partner, who was actually interested in her.

The fourteenth of February was a cold morning beset by snow flurries. The top of the Black Lake was still largely frosted over; Aurora could tell from out her window.

She lounged about alone most of the morning, before getting bored of the castle and finally heading down to Hogsmeade village around eleven, wrapped up in her green winter cloak. It was abuzz with people; couples, both students and older wizards, wandered the streets hand in hand, caught up in one another. All of them seemed to have no concept of the greater issues facing the world, perfectly content in their ignorance. It was annoying just being around them all.

She did go to the bookshop first, a tiny shop which was bigger on the inside and crammed full of tall, narrow shelves, hosting too many books to ever count, in every genre possible. Its shelves were crowded with floating books which folded in on themselves and zipped through the air to whoever needed them, and the ceiling lined by faintly glowing lights in warm amber and gold, which had the effect of making the room feel much more comfortable and warm than it really was. She did indeed receive her complimentary tea, which was not outstanding but did cheer her up somewhat as she browsed the shelves alone, wishing she had someone to pass comment with. It was an ultimately unsuccessful shopping trip, but killed some time before she had to meet Harry and Hermione and Skeeter in the Three Broomsticks.

On her way out of the bookshop, she caught sight of the door to Madam Puddifoot's tea shop opening. Theo stepped out, Flora at his shoulder, both looking bored stiff. She watched as they went, neither noticing her as Flora whispered something in Theo's ear which made him give a faint, forced smile, one she could recognise from a mile away.

Aurora swallowed, unsure why her chest felt so tight and her skin prickled with such annoyance — because Flora Carrow's family was awful, she told herself, even though she tried never to judge people on their families, and because she wasn't right for Theo, and he wasn't happy, and it was ridiculous that either of them had to join in the pretense of courtship. Before they could spot her staring and the scowl on her face, Aurora turned sharply to walk in the other direction, down the little lane lined by shop backs, which led to the woods and clearing where she had first met her father, over two years ago. It felt like ages, and yet no time at all; looking at the path she had run down chasing after his dog form was surreal, as though she were seeing it with entirely new eyes.

At the sound of a familiar voice behind her, Aurora turned back around, and saw Leah walking arm in arm with Daniel Abbott, a sixth year Ravenclaw, and great-grandson of Lord Abbott. They looked, to her surprise, to be having a nice time; Leah's smile seemed genuine, and she was comfortable. Aurora wasn't sure if that was how Leah normally acted around boys she liked, but then again, she had never known Leah to express any feelings for any boy, or even mention finding any attractive. Abbott was a decent guy, by all accounts — whatever reason Leah had for keeping her date's identity secret, Aurora could only puzzle over. But at least her friend didn't look miserable.

She let them pass undetected, before slipping round the back of the lane and crossing to the far end of Hogsmeade, trudging through snow to the Hog's Head and then coming back around the corner into the main street. Her feet were already growing cold again, and her nose going numb and red. A few lonely stops in Zonko's and Honeydukes were not enough to fill her bored mind, and she started to ache for something to do, half-wishing she had brought her homework, if only to keep herself occupied.

Then, freezing cold and debating going to find Gwen and Robin to tag along with, she heard someone call her name from behind, and turned to see Ernie MacMillan running up to her, Hufflepuff scarf fluttering behind him in the wind. She suppressed a groan and tried to smile at him.

"Good afternoon, Ernest," she said, nodding to him as he caught up, red in the face. "Are you quite alright?"

"Aurora," he said jovially, clearly trying to cover up his panting. "Lovely to see you. My sister mentioned you were out on your own today."

"Oh." She blinked. "Well, yes, but I did agree to meet—"

"How's about we get lunch together? I have to say it's not a day for being outside — you look like you're freezing."

"I'm quite alright," she said stiffly, burrowing farther into her cloak.

"Oh, come on. Three Broomsticks, on me."

This had to be a trick. Or worse. She remembered what her father said at Hogmanay, that the MacMillans were interested in courting her for their son. She had shrugged it off at the time, a harmless interest, but with him standing before her, it seemed the most horrendous idea in the world. Not because she disliked Ernie, or his family, but because it just didn't feel right, and it felt like something she had to do, was expected to do, and for once, she didn't want to fulfil that expectation. Plus, they were fourth cousins, and her family had had its fair share of inbreeding already. She wasn't sure he realised that, though.

But she didn't have anywhere else to go. Not until two o'clock anyway, and she would be meeting Harry and Hermione at the Three Broomsticks, and if she rejected Ernie by trying to go the castle, then she would be caught out if he did wind up there, and if she said she had plans there later, it would be rude to bypass him now, when she was clearly wandering aimlessly, and would continue to do so.

"Alright then," she said, hoping that she managed to toe the line between begrudging and teasing, and that Ernie didn't notice how forced her smile was — not that he ever had picked up on such things before. "But I'm afraid I will have to abandon you for my godbrother and his friends at two."

Ernie waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, no worries — I'm sure I'll rescue Leah at some point."

"You're not a fan of Abbott?" Aurora asked, making her way back up the street at his side.

"Oh, I like Daniel well enough. Leah's just in a wretched mood about it all, I expect she's told you everything about why she has to court him, and what happened with the Vaiseys — ridiculous, really, on both parts, but I suppose all we can do is damage control — but really, I'm rescuing him more than I am her." He gave a heart laugh and Aurora tried to see the humour in his sister's misery.

"What exactly did happen with the Vaiseys?" Aurora asked tentatively.

"Oh, the usual — Leah refused to deal with Felix courting her, said all sorts of things about how ridiculous she finds marriage as a concept, and then Lord Vaisey fell out with my father over political matters, which of course didn't help, but she really threw every disagreement in their faces. But anyway — let's not talk about my sister, eh? How've you been finding the DA?"

"It's probably best not to discuss that in public," she said bluntly, opening the door to the Three Broomsticks. "You never know who's listening."

"Course, course," he said quickly, lowering his voice and guiding her to a table. She tried not to glare at the proximity of his hand to hers. "Butterbeer? Chips?"

"Please," she said, nodding, and breathed a sigh of relief as he disappeared. She started trying to weigh up potential exit plots — fake an illness, or that someone needed her, perhaps. She could say she was on her period, she thought; boys always got nervous at the mention of such things. But there was no point. Ernie was fine, this was fine. It just wasn't quite right.

"Madam Rosmerta'll be over with the food in a moment," Ernie said, placing a butterbeer down in front of her and slipping into the seat opposite. "So, tell me, if other conversation has to be saved for private — what has you on your own today? I find it hard to believe Leah's story."

"What's Leah's story?" Aurora asked, taking a long, slow sip of Butterbeer.

"Well, that you don't have a date. I mean, it's Valentine's Day, and you're the prettiest and most eligible witch in Hogwarts. I'd have thought our classmates would be queueing round the castle to ask you out."

"Ten of them were," she said, annoyed. "But I didn't see the point in entertaining their invitations."

"Oh. You aren't with someone else, are you? If so, I apologise — Leah never mentioned—"

"No. I am, technically, available. But, Ernie, I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I know I'm pretty, and I am well aware of my eligibility, I don't need you to tell me that. I also don't have any interest in courtship at the moment, whether with you or anybody else at this school. Frankly, I've got bigger issues to be dealing with at the moment, and I also don't think it's very fair to let someone court me when my own escaped convict of a cousin wants to murder me. You're a lovely boy, and this is in no way personal to you or your family, I'm just not interested. Not like that."

"Oh." Ernie frowned for a moment, but it cleared quickly. "Well, good, I suppose. I mean, not the bit about your cousin — Lestrange, right? That's, er... Well. I can see how that might be a bit distracting. I am sorry."

"No, you're… Fine. I just would rather keep the relationship between our families a political one."

"I see." After a moment, he said, "And here I was starting to think you just didn't like me."

"Not at all," she said, forcing a smile. "I just don't have the space to prioritise… That. Political matters are much more important."

"I agree," Ernie told her immediately, and she could not quite grasp if he was saying that to find conversation, or if because he genuinely meant it. Or rather, if he wanted to tell her all of his political opinions, which soon became apparent was the case. "My father speaks of nothing else, of course, though his letters have been sparse recently — he believes the Ministry may be intercepting owls to Hogwarts."

"Harry thinks so too," Aurora said, nodding.

Ernie's mouth fell into a grim smile. "Yes, I expect he would. Father says the Ministry is growing closer to combat with the Assembly every day. Even some of the Moderates, Fudge's own party, are getting annoyed with him, over this Azkaban business. Word is Vabsley himself has had to have a conversation, though of course he'll never initiate a formal challenge. Exciting, isn't it?"

"That's one word for it," Aurora said, eyebrows raised. "It's also rather worrying, though. That the Assembly leader fails to do his job of holding the Minister to account, even against his personal wishes?"

"Well, I suppose Vabsley sees himself as the other half of Fudge's galleon. It makes perfect sense that he wouldn't act. That's what my father says."

"Are all your words drawn directly from your father's mouth?" Aurora asked, voice colder and sharper than she had intended.

Ernie stared at her, cheeks turning red. "I — no. I'm just saying, my father tells me these things."

"I know." Aurora grimaced. "Sorry."

"Right." Ernie looked away, and Aurora stared steadily at the table, wishing she could drown in her Butterbeer.

In the silence, Madam Rosmerta came to place two bowls of chips in front of them. Her gaze darted between them and she sighed. "Try not to fight on Valentine's Day," she told them, "it never bodes well."

Then she left without another word. Aurora strongly contemplated pretending to faint, or simply throwing up, to get out of the whole disastrous ordeal.

"Um," Ernie said, then failed to find anything else to say afterward. Aurora chewed on a chip. "Anyway. I think the Progressives are looking to do something about forcing an investigation. Weirdly, the Conservatives are in on it with them — I guess even the ones that support the Death Eater ideology, don't exactly want the Wizarding World overrun by criminals."

"Nobody wants that," Aurora agreed, "but it seems the Ministry's solution is to bury its head in the sand and hope the threat will quietly disappear. Your father did write to me, actually, about this. I've to vote — but you know that, don't you? That's why you're talking to me."

Ernie's cheeks flushed redder. "That's not the only reason."

"But your father's probably encouraged you to befriend me, yes?" Not for the first time, she wondered if Leah had the same motivations, but she didn't think so. Half the time it felt Leah wanted to do the exact opposite of whatever her father wanted. "Or at least discuss such things with me — or to try to court me." She almost felt bad for the way his cheeks went such a deep crimson. "I'm not saying that's bad. But I think it's important to be upfront about intentions."

"You aren't half a piece of work," Ernie muttered, and she smiled.

"I've been told so before. What is it your father wishes to relay to me, then?"

"Well, he wants your vote, of course. And… There's talk that the Ministry's going to put through a new bill on restrictions or the press on matters of national security, which is being presented as necessary to keep us all safe and make sure that no information gets into the wrong hands, but with the way things are going at the Prophet already, it's fairly obvious that's not going to be the only way that it's used. 'Course, it's only talk now, and no one's meant to know, so he couldn't write to you officially — my mother wrote to me, no one ever seems too bothered about checking her post."

Aurora mulled this over, having a few more chips. "Well, you can tell your father — or mother — that I'm intending to vote in favour of an investigation into the Azkaban breakout, of course. As to the other issue, when it comes to the floor, I imagine I'll make up my mind then. But the idea of that bill is worrying to me, too."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Ernie told her, nodding, as though pleased that he had been correct. "I'll have to get Harry's opinion, too, of course. My father is eager to have him say his piece."

"I bet he is."

She glanced up to check the clock, reminded that she had to meet Potter, but she still had almost an hour left before he showed up. She could only hope that Hermione would be early. As she turned, she noticed the door to the pub opening and Theo slipping in alone, looking around. She smiled as he met her eye with a relieved grin, which then faltered, into a curious, questioning look when he noticed her company.

Ernie twisted around, following her gaze, and made an annoyed sound. "You're friends with Nott too, then?"

"Yes," Aurora said brittly. "Why?"

"Leah mentions him a lot. I don't think he's a very suitable friend for her, but she'll never listen."

"I think Leah knows him quite a bit better than you do," Aurora said coolly.

Ernie shrugged. "My father—" he started, then stopped himself.

Aurora withheld a laugh. "Theo's quite a lovely boy. I don't think it's for you to judge him. Anyway, perhaps let us move away from political conversation? How's the Hufflepuff team looking this term?"

"I couldn't possibly give it away," he said, recovering quickly and catching onto her need to change the conversation. "Well enough to beat Slytherin, at any rate."

Aurora scoffed. "Big talk, MacMillan. I did see your match against Ravenclaw."

"And I yours against Gryffindor — come on, Weasley was a soft target."

"Maybe. But that's just a taste of what's to come."

"That's what every team says."

Quidditch was an easy conversation. She was practiced in short, meaningless insults disguised as good-natured banter, in quickly discussing nothing. Nevertheless, it was a relief when she did see Hermione Granger come in and wave to her, and could make her excuses to hurry away, sitting in a shadowy booth at the back of the pub, where they were unlikely to be overheard or seen.

"Was that Ernie MacMillan I saw you with?" Hermione asked as Aurora sat down.

"Unfortunately, yes. It's a long story which I don't currently wish to relive."

"It wasn't a date, was it?"

"I think he wanted it to be." She wrinkled her nose. "Don't get me wrong, Ernie's fine, but he's not very good company. And it was terribly uncomfortable, for both of us. Where's Harry?"

"Date with Cho Chang," Hermione said, grinning. "She took him to Madam Puddifoot's."

"Please tell me that smile is because you think he's suffering, and not because you think that's a cute date idea?"

"Well… We'll see."

Aurora laughed. "I hope he has a wretched time."

"Sure you do. Get yourself a drink, they'll all be here soon."

Aurora returned a few moments later with another Butterbeer and a few glasses of water, and sat down just in time to see Rita Skeeter arrive, clutching a crocodile-skin handbag, blonde hair curling around her face. Luna Lovegood trailed behind her, an arrangement which Skeeter appeared greatly perturbed by, though her eyes lit up with interest when she saw Aurora.

"Lady Black," she purred instantly, grinning, "what a pleasant surprise. I was expecting your godbrother."

"He's on his way," Aurora said with a flat smile. "I won't stay long. But I did want to speak with you. Say I were to try and publish a letter to editorial, what do you call those? Letters to the editor?" Skeeter nodded. "Well, that. Say this were about challenging the Ministry's inaction over the recent mass breakout from Azkaban prison, something the Daily Prophet would never want to publish right now. Who would you send that to?"

Skeeter sucked on the end of her quill. "I would refrain from publishing something like that at all, personally."

"Well, I'd like to do it anonymously."

"That seems sensible." Skeeter sat back, considering. "Warlock Post, I'd say. Irreverent, like a bit of drama, but of course they're less frequent."

"Gives it more time before it's buried."

"True." Skeeter raised her eyebrows. "You have the letter with you?"

"It's not finished yet," Aurora told her. "But I have a way of sneaking out and posting it indirectly, if you'd help me get a foot in the door. Vouch for an anonymous friend?"

Skeeter had a face like sucking on a lemon, at the idea they were friends. "Let's see how this interview goes first, hm?"

"Yes," Hermione said, latching onto the conversation, "speaking of, we have to lay out the deal. Luna?"

Lovegood roused herself from what appeared to have been a nap with her eyes open. "Yes?" Perhaps she just had that dreamy look all the time. "Oh, my father's willing to publish the interview in his magazine. The Quibbler?"

Skeeter's face contorted into a sneer. "The Quibbler? You want me writing for the Quibbler? No one's going to read that!"

"I wouldn't be so sure," Hermione said. "Harry's name speaks to people, remember? You've exploited it often enough to know that."

Skeeter pursed her lips. "And how does the Quibbler pay?"

"Oh, we don't compensate," Luna said. "People publish in our magazine for the honour of it, you know. You'd be right up there with magizoologists investigating nargle presences, and astrologers predicting the next great economic crash."

Skeeter's expression soured even further. "You don't pay. At all?" She huffed, leaning back. "I'm not doing this for free."

"You're doing this to avoid a life in prison," Aurora reminded her. "To avoid your reputation being destroyed and your finances ruined. And, you're a journalist." She smiled sweetly. "Didn't you once say all you ever wanted was the truth? Well, here's your chance — the truth the Ministry wants to obscure, and the scoop of the decade."

"And what exactly is this—"

"Harry!" Hermione said, in a surprise voice, interrupting Skeeter.

He looked windswept, cheeks pink, like he had just ran here. "Sorry, sorry."

"You're early. I thought you'd still be with Cho."

"Yeah, well, she didn't want to come and once I'd mentioned you it was all…" He trailed off, noticing Skeeter's eager gaze. "What?"

"Don't tell me you've been with a girl, Harry," she purred, taking her lime-green quill out of her bag. "Cho, you said her name was?"

"No," he said shortly.

"Harry doesn't have to speak to you about any girls," Hermione said hotly, "that's not why he's here."

"Cho is very pretty, though," Luna said to Skeeter. "Everybody says so. Roger Davies asked her to Hogsmeade, but she turned him down, because she had already asked Harry out. I would do the same — Harry's much nicer than Roger, I think he shouts too much."

Aurora snatched the quill out of mid-air before Skeeter could get that down. The journalist glared at her, cheeks reddening. "That is a very expensive quill, young lady—"

"You'll get it back when we're done with you," she said with a hard look and smirk. "I promise I won't hurt it." She placed the quill down on the table by her arm, where it rolled about for a second then quivered and gave up.

Harry sat down next to Aurora, annoyed look on his face. Aurora slid him a glass of water, then cleared her throat and turned back to the table at large, "As we were saying, Rita, you'll run the final draft of this interview by Hermione before sending it to Luna and then onto her father for publication. Now, as to the content, we agreed to a one-off interview, detailing the night You-Know-Who returned, in Harry's own words."

Rita let out a derisive, high-pitched laugh. "And you're sure you want to stick with that story, are you?" She peered over her spectacles, intrigued. "All the garbage Dumbledore's come out with — you're defending that? Even with everything the Prophet's said about you." Harry nodded stiffly. "Hm. Intriguing. Suppose it's the result of some childhood trauma, a delusion—"

"Harry's not delusional," Hermione told her firmly.

"Well, there's no one else to confirm the story, is there?"

"There were about a dozen Death Eaters there," Harry snarled, his temper flushing his face, "want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita said with relish.

Aurora exchanged a nervous nod with Hermione, who said, "You'll get that in the interview."

Rita sighed. Luna had disengaged from the conversation entirely, and was stirring her drink — conjured from nowhere, it seemed, or perhaps she had stolen Hermione's — with a cocktail onion on a stick. "I'd love to hear it all, dear. But there's no market for a story like that. The Prophet would never print it, even the Warlock Post wouldn't, and I know you want it in the Quibbler, but no one reads that rubbish as is and they're certainly not going to want to read this! It's not happy, it's not from someone likeable. It doesn't fit the zeitgeist, dear. The narrative's against it." She held her hands up, eyes wide in faux innocence. "That's not my fault, is it? I'm just telling it how it is."

"I suppose that's your problem," Aurora said with a shrug. "Unless you want our narrative. As I've reminded you."

"You're never going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm not a fool, no. Conduct the interview, write the article, send it to Hermione. It's not difficult, dear."

"You know nothing about journalism—"

"Neither do you!"

"I know that people do not want to read a story that scares them. People don't want to believe You-Know-Who is back, and that isn't all down to Fudge or the Prophet. It is basic human psychology. The Prophet merely capitalises on it. You would know that."

"Oh, I do. But unfortunately for some people, I think — shockingly — that journalism should be about truth. I realise that is something of a foreign concept to you, but it's one you're going to have to get used to."

Skeeter sniffed, but seemed to accept that she was not going to get Aurora to back down.

"The Quibbler only prints the truth," Luna put in. "It publishes important stories people want to know more about. It has much better integrity than the Daily Prophet." Her voice was unusually scathing there, which Aurora appreciated.

It was amusing to watch Hermione pretend to agree with this. "The Prophet article about the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. People are questioning its, and the Ministry's, version of events, and wondering whether there isn't a better explanation, an alternative story, even if it is published in an… Unconventional, magazine. I think people will be keen to read it."

"Plus," Aurora put in, "you'd be the first person to have an interview like this with Harry Potter. That could make your career."

"Or break it."

"You'd better write a pretty persuasive article, then, hadn't you?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raised. Aurora smirked.

"I haven't got a choice here, have I?"

"I thought that was obvious when we imprisoned you the first time."

Skeeter glared, and held out her hand. "Fine. I'll do it. And I suppose I'll have to vouch for your silly little letter to the Warlock Post, too."

"Oh, please. It'd be ever so appreciated." Aurora handed the Quick-Quotes-Quill back over with a smile which only made Skeeter's scowl deepen. "Ready, Harry?"

At her side, he swallowed tightly, but nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

She caught his eye, questioning, and said in a slightly softer voice, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." He lifted his head and looked Skeeter in the eye. She was already poised to write, her quill hovering in the air and her eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Let's do this."