Bust It Wide Open

by RaeRurounifan

All Shelby Turner wanted was to be acknowledged the way her cousin was. There were two problems with this, however. One: Shelby was a Squib. Two: her cousin was award-winning reporter Rita Skeeter. With this in mind, Shelby makes a decision with the help of her fiance that will get her the recognition from her family she deserves and make her notorious round the world.

Author's Note: I had this idea stuck in my head that had to get out. I'll just let you read it for yourself and see what you think. It takes the idea of destroying the Statute of Secrecy and pairs it with a character who I've really enjoyed writing out. If you're expecting a lot of our favorite canon characters, you'll be disappointed, but there are a few who show up here and there as the story progresses. Let me know what you think at the end! I'd love a review and to hear your thoughts!

Bust It Wide Open

By: Rae

-A "Harry Potter" Story-

"You know, I wager once this little 'war' is behind us, they'll have to create a whole new award just for our Rita," Uncle Gary exclaimed proudly, his arm around his daughter.

Rita preened under the praise, her vicious little smile broadening as she looked around the room. Lording it over the rest of the clan was what she did best, especially for the annual Boxing Day party. She pushed her glasses a little higher on her nose and raised her cocktail glass in a salute to the room as she took a swig of the contents.

Sitting on the couch in her aunt and uncle's sitting room, Shelby turned away from the scene, gripping the book in her lap in a vice-like hold as she tried to hold in her rage. The arm around her shoulders tightened and pulled her closer, and Shelby tried to relax into her fiance's embrace but couldn't. She glared down at the cover staring back up at her, an image of Albus Dumbledore and the lurid title The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore splashed across it.

Rita had blown into the party late, as usual, and levitated an entire case of her newest release to hand out to all the family. As she'd handed her copy to Shelby, Rita smirked down at her cousin and told her she'd be happy to sign it for a galleon. Shelby refused, but her mother overheard and quickly snatched a galleon out of her bag and handed it over. Rita then proceeded to write a short message inside the front cover before snapping it shut and thrusting it back at Shelby.

Releasing her grip, Shelby flipped open the cover and stared at the words. "Bet you wish you could have gotten there first. Too bad, cousin. Rita."

She slammed the cover shut, ignoring when her parents glared at her at the noise. Standing up, she walked into the kitchen, feeling her fiance following her as she made her way to the punch bowl. Shelby grabbed a cocktail glass and lifted the ladle, splashing a little of the punch on the counter as she poured it. She threw it back in one go, enjoying the burn, before filling her glass again.

"Ignore it," Thad said, rubbing his hand in soothing circles along the small of her back. "We can leave whenever you want, babe."

She rolled her eyes and reached a hand up to push her hair out of her face. "No, we can't," she told him flatly. "My family doesn't allow anyone to leave until we've had dinner. It's 'tradition.'" She mimicked quotations with her fingers as she sarcastically said the last bit.

"I don't see why you even come," Thad said amiably. "It's not like anyone here seems to care for you."

A pained look crossed her face, but she hid it quickly.

"I didn't mean it like that," he hastened to assure her. "It's just… well, I mean, you know I get it. They don't care about us or what we do, and I don't understand why you're even required to show up to these parties. It seems a little ridiculous since you never even go into their world."

Shelby nodded thoughtfully. "You're right," she agreed, meeting his gaze. "Unfortunately my parents have made it clear I won't receive my inheritance unless I continue to show up to these blasted reunions and parties."

Thad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before shoving his thin spectacles back up on his nose. "Well, then," he said, "I guess we'll keep coming and make the best of a bad situation." He chuckled meanly and asked, "Any chance your parents will kick the bucket soon? Perhaps a potion gone wrong?"

Shelby laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. "Don't go there, Thad," she said.

They stayed the rest of the evening until the dinner bell was rung. It took all Shelby had not to stand up and leave immediately when her aunt and uncle began their annual ritual of making fun of her career. Rita especially enjoyed this pastime, and Shelby always ended up wanting to bawl her eyes out by the time they finished their meal. Even though it felt cowardly, Shelby gathered her things and Thad and headed for the door as soon as her uncle announced the men would adjourn to the parlor for smokes and drinks.

Thad followed her silently. They'd almost made it past the apparition point when Rita called her name. Shelby stopped and turned to her hateful cousin only to see her extending her hand with that dreadful book in it.

"You forgot this, cousin," Rita sneered, not acknowledging Thad. "Wouldn't want you to miss the opportunity to read some actual journalism and reporting. After all, you certainly don't know what it's like to break any real news to the world."

Shoving the book in Shelby's hands, Rita turned on a pointy heel and sauntered back to the door.

"She's despicable," Thad said, taking the book from Shelby's hands. He surveyed it, flipping through it for a brief moment. "But at least she brought us some nice kindling."

Shelby's laughter filtered through the snowy landscape as she climbed into the car and they left together.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Thad and Shelby had met two years ago at a meeting for the Squib Support Society (SSS for short) that was formed in a small London meeting space not far from St. Mungo's. Being Squibs from large magical families had them getting to know one another and trading stories about their childhoods.

Thaddeus Flint came from a family of all Slytherins who had prided themselves on being Pureblood for more generations than they could count. They weren't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, but they were as close as it came to that rather exclusive title. Not to mention, the Flint patriarch was extremely wealthy, and that wealth was handed down from one oldest son to the next. At least, until Thaddeus was born.

Thad had shown no magical talent as a child, and as he aged, it became apparent he was a Squib. This was a point of contention with his father because no Squibs had been born to the family in living memory. For a while, some speculated the Flints might see a non-magical patriarch in Thaddeus. Then, almost miraculously, his mother had a second baby, a son named Marius.

Without so much as a "by your leave," Thaddeus became the family dogsbody. Marius showed magical power within his first three years of life, and it was as if the extended family breathed a collective sigh of relief. Thad was shunted off to a small property in the countryside with a set of Muggle caretakers hired by his father to help him acclimate to life as a Squib.

When they'd met at the meeting, Thad admitted to Shelby that his Nanny and Manny (his childhood titles for the couple) had become like parents to him, and while he was still brought into the family for larger gatherings, holiday events, reunions, and other occasions, he'd lived separate from his parents, his brother and sister, and any other magical relations for so long that he wasn't sure he had any interest in trying to keep up with them anymore.

Thaddeus still attended one or two family gatherings, but it was normally only with his immediate family. The rest of the Flint family saw no reason to keep up with the Squib among them and many were ashamed of his very existence. Once he'd finished out his rather Muggle-esque childhood and schooling, Thad attended uni and studied some branch of science that Shelby never could keep straight. He had two degrees, one in science and one in business. Thad had fully committed to life in the Muggle world, had his own flat in London, and worked for a large technology company that manufactured parts for things like cameras and security systems.

Meanwhile, Shelby had spent her childhood surrounded by a large magical family. Her parents, the Turners, were part of the line of Aurelia Wimblefeather, a prominent witch who had spent much of her time developing various inventions. Her line included the Skeeters and Turners, and strangely enough, the two families were so enmeshed that the patriarchs decided at one point they would simply merge the family properties.

The combined Turner-Skeeter homestead was a 150 acre space with two large manor homes spaced far enough apart to afford the individual families some privacy. There were a few other small homes scattered on the property, but the majority of the members lived in the manors.

So when she was born, Shelby lived with her parents, two spinster aunts (her father's sisters), and an uncle and aunt in the Turner manor. There were six children total between her parents and her dad's brother's family, and it had begun as a beautiful childhood, filled with accidental magic and games and tutors. In the Skeeter manor, there were ten other children, and the grounds often played host to impromptu Quidditch games or hide-and-seek marathons. It was a wonderful way to grow up, and Shelby cherished her memories of the huge family that had loved her.

That all changed, however, when she turned five. Shelby and Rita were the closest in age, being born only five months apart. Rita had been showing signs of magic since she was two, but Shelby, lost in a sea of other children, had not. One day, when they were playing on a large swingset in the back of the Skeeter manor, Rita pushed Shelby higher and higher and faster and faster, setting her younger cousin to full-on giggles.

Giggling switched to screaming, however, when Rita pushed one last time and the swing went all the way over the bar above, somehow moving so fast that it wrapped round the top beam several times before stopping. Shelby was well and truly trapped, her torso curved up and her head hanging over the top of the beam, one arm trapped in the chain of the swing. It pinched painfully, and she'd had the breath knocked out of her when the swing stopped.

Rita laughed at her but finally went inside to get help. Once the adults congregated below her, Shelby waited for them to get her down. It seemed, however, this one event had got them all thinking, and the conversation below was not only loud but cruel to her young ears. Uncle Gary wondered aloud if he'd ever seen Shelby display any accidental magic while Aunt Emma commented that Rita's magic would certainly be a sight to behold if this was any indication. Then Uncle Peter sourly said if Shelby was a Squib they should go ahead and send her right out now so she'd be out of the way of the rest of the children as they learned. And on it went till finally–finally!-Shelby's parents arrived and immediately magicked her free.

Her mother screamed at her uncles for not releasing her sooner, but when Uncle Peter made a snide remark about Shelby's lack of magic, she'd turned pale and dragged Shelby off to the Turner home.

It wasn't long after that that everyone learned what Shelby feared was true: she was, in fact, a Squib.

The games and playing stopped. Her cousins treated her as if she had dragon pox, and her aunts and uncles exchanged sidelong glances whenever she was around. Her parents hired a Muggle tutor to teach her about Muggle life and introduce her to things she might need to know in order to survive. Unfortunately, the tutor had no idea magic was real, and she didn't understand that Shelby had never been around anything like Muggle technology or even electricity. The sad fact was that her father hired the poor woman under the explanation that Shelby was "simple" and gave her so little information that the tutor operated on the assumption the girl was handicapped.

When Shelby expressed surprise at the electric lights that flickered into existence at the flip of a switch, the tutor tutted loudly and made a note in her little book that Shelby was brain-damaged. When Shelby jumped at seeing people move and speak on the telly, the woman rolled her eyes and decided the girl was too stupid to understand technology. Since her parents were happy with the woman's services, Shelby grew up with the belief that not only was she a Squib, she was also incredibly dumb.

It wasn't till she became a teenager and her tutor moved away that Shelby began to actually learn. First her parents enrolled her in a Muggle boarding school and sent her away for months at a time. At the school, Shelby was considered to be very behind her peers, so with the Turners' permission, the school assigned her a tutor. This tutor turned out to be exactly what she needed. It was hard work but within two years, Shelby was on track with her peers and had begun to understand all the different options she had in the Muggle world. With hope burgeoning in her heart, she realized she might actually be able to do something and live a good life outside of the Wizarding world she so desperately wanted to be a part of.

And, if she was really lucky, she might actually make her parents proud.

By the time she was 19, Shelby had a focus and direction. She was ready to apply to uni and had even managed to earn a few hardship scholarships. (It helped, of course, that her family didn't pay any kind of taxes to the Muggle government, and the scholarships allowed her to move onto campus rather than have a commute or pay for an apartment.) It might have been unconventional, but Shelby studied political science and journalism, having decided that becoming a journalist was her dream. It would allow her to break news to the public, get her name in print, and create a portfolio to show her family when she visited.

Within two years of graduating, Shelby was working for a small town newspaper and writing stories about such exciting events as groundbreaking for a new secondary school, the town Christmas parade, and on one memorable occasion, a local artist's mural that was donated to the library. Of course, that particular story had left her feeling vile after the artist–a man in his 70s–decided to try and feel her up before playing it off as a bit of a joke.

When she returned home for Christmas five years after uni, Shelby lugged a small file of papers with her, including the various issues where she'd landed a front page article. She was especially proud of those articles above the fold, even though it wasn't quite the same thing she'd envisioned as a uni student, dreaming of writing for The Independent.

She was crushed when she arrived at the Boxing Day feast only to learn that her cousin Rita had gone into the very same field she had, albeit the magical equivalent. That was the first time she fought with her parents about returning to the family parties. It wasn't the last, however, and as the years went on, Shelby grew more and more bitter about her parents' requirement of her attendance and her inheritance remaining incumbent upon her staying at least for every dinner.

No one would have argued with her if she'd simply given it up, but Shelby couldn't. The inheritance her parents had decided on for her was a small slip of land in East Tilbury off the River Thames that held her heart. There was a gorgeous cottage situated on the banks of the river that had been in the family for four generations, and it was far from the family's homestead in Sheffield. It would afford her a place of her own and a retreat from the overbearing nature of her relatives, who took a great personal interest in inquiring about her "quaint little job in the Muggle world."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It struck her as ironic that she discovered the SSS through the very newspaper her hated cousin wrote for, but Shelby always appreciated irony. As a Squib, she liked to keep up with the news in both her worlds, even if it meant subscribing to a newspaper whose pictures never moved before her non-magical eyes. The Daily Prophet arrived without fail, delivered by one of the myriad mail owls, and Shelby mailed off her subscription fee to a mailbox associated with the paper once a month. It was a system that worked for her.

She'd just landed a job at a small, niche paper out of London and moved to a flat over a curry restaurant. Shelby was exploring the lay of the land and mentally mapping out all the magical locations she'd visited with family so she knew what to avoid. She'd purchased two copies of a London map and begun by heading to Charing Cross Road and the Leaky Cauldron.

Despite her Squib status, Shelby had always been able to see magical locations as they were. It was one of the stranger things about being a Squib that she thought might simply relate to having grown up going to these locations with her family. She entered the Leaky Cauldron with her copy of the Prophet tucked under her arm and sidled up to the bar where Tom eyed her dolefully.

"I'll have a pumpkin juice, please," she requested.

He brought out the drink in a great copper mug, and Shelby sank down, leaning her elbows on the table and grasping the cup in both hands, letting her head hang over the beverage. Pumpkin juice was a distinctly Wizarding drink. She'd never been able to find it in Muggle shops, supermarkets, or specialty grocers. She always grabbed some when she was in magical quarters, and she savored it as a blast from the past.

She sat musing for a bit before pulling out her paper to read. It was the usual muck about Harry Potter. Apparently he was heading into his first year at Hogwarts and there was much to-do with people sighting him around Diagon Alley with the half-giant caretaker of Hogwarts. Shelby skimmed these articles with barely concealed boredom. Much as he was lauded as the Boy-Who-Lived, he had less than nothing to do with her or her life, and Shelby wasn't interested in reading about him. She found it a bit distasteful how the paper seemed to obsess over him and cause witches and wizards to fawn over a child who had done nothing so much to defeat an evil dictator. From what she had read about it, it seemed his parents were the true heroes.

Regardless, she wasn't going to get swept into Potter frenzy with the rest of them. She moved on, flipping pages idly and sipping her second juice when something caught her attention.

It was on page 20 in the classifieds section. She rarely read that section as it was mostly people trying to sell various potions ingredients or offering tutoring for different branches of magic. Really, she'd quit reading it after catching sight of a quarter-page ad for a self-taught magic program for Squibs that promised to jump-start magical ability. It was offensive. Shelby wasn't going to suddenly develop magical skills anymore than a dragon was going to start spewing water.

Even so, she paused when she saw a little advertisement, possibly the smallest size ad the paper offered. "Squib Support Society. Meeting in Thanet House, 231-232 Strand every 1st and 3rd Tuesday of the month at 7 pm sharp. Check-in with Grantham." Shelby read and reread the little ad, finally admitting to herself that she was curious about this meeting. She thought through it and realized tomorrow was the third Tuesday of September.

She pulled out her map of London, grabbing a purple marker and drawing a small mug over the location of the Leaky Cauldron. Then she visually mapped the area, hunting for the Strand. It took her longer than she would have admitted if only because she wasn't great with maps to begin with. When she found it, she looked closer and saw the tiny numbers designating the addresses and which direction increased in number and which decreased. Running her finger lightly along the page as she searched, she discovered the location of Thanet House. It wasn't too far away from the Kings College London.

Nodding to herself, she reached into her bag and withdrew a pencil. With this, she marked the general location of the building in a small circle. If she went and decided it was worth it, she'd erase the pencil and mark it in marker instead.

Once she finished her perusal, she returned the map, marker, and pencil to her bag. She sipped another bit of her juice and looked around, noticing that Tom was at one end of the bar, shooting her an inquiring gaze. Shelby blushed. She'd completely forgotten to use a quill rather than her Muggle writing implements. Oh well, she thought, it's not like I'll be coming here that often anyway.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Her first meeting of the Squib Support Society didn't take place till the first Tuesday of October. Shelby didn't want to admit to her curiosity and tried to ignore the desire to go in September. By October, however, she couldn't help it. She took the Tube and made her way to the Strand where she found Thanet House.

It was a relatively nondescript building sandwiched between the usual set of buildings along a busy street in London. It had a large, arched sign over the door with the building name in light letters on a dark background. The building appeared old as most things did in London, and Shelby hesitantly stepped inside to discover it was an office building with six floors. A lobby greeted her, and she headed toward the front desk, wondering what she should be looking for.

"Hello, miss," greeted a kindly looking gentleman. His green eyes twinkled, and he had graying hair with tufted sideburns, a gray mustache, and a pair of thin wire spectacles perched on a broad nose. "May I help you with something?"

Shelby gave him a tight smile. She had no idea how she should even begin this absurd-sounding request to a simple Muggle.

Something must have been noticeable, however, because he cocked a brow and spoke again. "Or perhaps you're looking for the SSS?" He asked. When she gaped at him, he winked. "I've been a doorman here for a long time, young lady, and when you've worked a job long enough, it becomes damn easy to notice certain things. In all my years here, the only time I find people looking the way you do is when they're here for the SSS meeting for the very first time."

Shelby snapped her mouth shut and surveyed him. He had the gall to grin merrily at her, and she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at his cheek.

She settled on asking, "And how do I look?"

He grinned wider and answered, "Like a fish out of water. I'd say you and everyone else have all come in here trying to figure out a real delicate way to ask about the meetings, and every time, it never fails that a person just stops and can't seem to decide how to ask the question." He shrugged. "I'm a simple man, young lady, and all I do is direct traffic 'round here. I don't mind what your lot gets up to in those meetings. Long's no one gets hurt and the office space stays pristine, the SSS is welcome to set up shop each month as usual. Been meeting here a long time now, and I'd say they're some of the most polite folk who come in this building."

He stood up, stretching broadly and a loud pop sounded. He sighed. "Ahhh," he told her, "I needed that." Clapping his hands, he said, "Right. Let's get you to your meeting."

Sam, she learned his name was, directed her to the lift and the fourth floor to an office suite that belonged to Saracens Solicitors. He shooed her into the lift when she hesitated, and before she knew it, she was standing outside the Solicitors door. It was cracked and she could hear talking inside.

Taking a deep breath, Shelby opened the door and stepped inside.

"Welcome! I'm so glad you came!" A deep voice greeted her, and a man rushed forward from a crowd of people to enthusiastically pump her hand. He was a large man with quite a paunch, a strained black button-down shirt with an equally strained gray vest over it met her eyes first, followed by a thick neck and fat face. A mop of black hair, brown eyes, and a kind smile had her smiling back.

In the years to come, Shelby could admit to herself that it was this immediate warm welcome from Eustace Abbott that had sealed the deal for her. The man was the de facto leader of the SSS, and he made it his mission to engender warmth and a sense of belonging for any Squibs who showed up at the meetings. He told her his goal was to make this a safe place for those few who set foot in two worlds, and Shelby could confess that she desperately wanted a place to belong.

She became a fixture of the club, attending every meeting with the rare exception on nights she had to work. Shelby learned to love the little core group of members who attended regularly, and she became one of the ones who helped Eustace greet newcomers and make them feel at home. Eustace was a solicitor with Saracens Solicitors and well on his way to making partner, so the other solicitors were happy to allow him the space for his well-known club. They knew it as a hobbyist club for some obscure hobby no one was very familiar with anymore, but to the SSS members, this little space in London was sacred ground, where Squibs could come together and discuss the weird and the wonderful of knowing about two separate worlds.

Shelby met Thad on her second meeting. He'd been absent the first time, and when he showed up the second time, they hit it off immediately, chatting like longtime friends about living in large families and having to split time in Muggle London with time at old manor homes.

She also met Sarah, a woman who came from a long line of Healers. Sarah had been devastated to learn she was a Squib and wouldn't be able to follow in her mother's and grandmother's footsteps. She had grown up to get her nursing license and now followed the passion in her heart by tending to Muggles in a nearby hospital.

Thom was the group clown who always had a joke or terrible pun to share. He was from a smaller family, and his grandparents on one side were Muggles. He'd been raised by them once his siblings showed magical ability, and Thom was closer to them than to his parents. He worked in a local pub while attending uni.

Patience was an aspiring actress, constantly trying out for different roles. Her claim to fame was having been in the chorus of an off-West End production that had a few well-known actors joining in to drum up interest in the locale. She was determined to become famous and show up her parents, whose disappointment in her was keen.

And then there was Franklin, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff who had decided to try and unite both his magical history with his new Muggle life by researching and writing books. He had written two magical biographies that wove in both magical and Muggle history, but his work wasn't well recognized in the magical community yet. He was currently working on a set of period pieces that would take an in-depth look at how magical and Muggle history intertwined over the course of different decades. It was an ambitious project, not the least because it was increasingly difficult for Squibs to access good magical history books.

This core group and the others who drifted in and out of the SSS made up the friend group Shelby had always craved. Here she was safe. Here she could rant about the annual Boxing Day party, content in the knowledge her friends would understand why she had no desire to go into the magical home where her family always treated her poorly. Here she could debate whether Squibs should try to keep their "one foot in, one foot out" policy of at least representing themselves in Wizarding England. Here she found solace in friends who had grown up unaccustomed to technology and still sometimes marveled over the things they could do with it.

And here she'd found the love of her life in Thaddeus Garrick Flint.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The Daily Prophet reported more and more negativity as the war progressed. Shelby and Thad kept up with it after moving in together, more for her obsession with seeing her cousin's career advance while she couldn't even get her own parents to come visit long enough to see Shelby's newest job as a reporter for Channel 4.

She'd worked her butt off for this job, and when she landed it, she and Thad had gone on a very expensive date, culminating in a night of drinking and a massive hangover the next morning. It was entirely worth it, however, and she'd written her mother a long letter to explain just how exciting this career jump would be for her.

Mrs. Turner's response had been lackluster at best.

She didn't understand how her daughter thought being on the telly was even remotely a move up in the world when she didn't have her own byline in a big paper like Rita. It didn't help that her parents still had no concept of a telly as they refused to come to her London flat for a visit and insisted she come to them. Thad had comforted her, reminding her that some things were best kept separate, but Shelby let the slight fester inside her along with the many cruel remarks from her aunts and uncles and the taunting Rita did every time she saw her.

Sometimes letting things fester leads to dangerous consequences.

Shelby was only a grunt at Channel 4, but she was grateful for the chance to prove herself. She knew the Wizarding world was at war and that there were a few signs here and there in the Muggle world of the tumult. It wasn't until the Millenium Bridge attack that she got her big break.

Shelby was stationed outside the bridge with her cameraman, waiting for a cab to take them back to the station to edit the story she'd done. She expected it to maybe get a minute tops on the late night news, but she would take what she could get. Trey was lounging against a street post when the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

"Trey, get your camera," she hissed as people passed them by.

"What?" He asked, not paying attention.

"Get out your camera and start filming," she demanded, standing up straight.

He gave her an odd look but set down his bag to do as she asked. Meanwhile she was scanning the street in all directions. There was something about to happen, she just knew it. And then, just as he got the camera up on a shoulder and turned it on, the attack began.

They were across the street from the Millenium Bridge, and she noticed as the traffic lights nearby flickered between red, green, and yellow. Trey hit the record button as all the lights turned green at once, and he caught it when several cars ran into one another as a result, his surprised grunt muffled into instant professionalism. Shelby reached out to take the mic he thrust at her, already hooked up to the camera and began to narrate.

They both turned in shock when shrieks sounded on the bridge. He zoomed in as much as he could, but Shelby stayed right where she was. She kept speaking rapidly, noting everything that was happening as the bridge seemed to sway and move without warning. There was no wind, nothing to cause it, and she knew without having to think about it that it was Death Eaters. When Trey started making for the crosswalk, she stayed him with a hand on his arm. She shook her head when he glanced at her, and he stopped.

It was a golden opportunity. There were no other news crews in the area. They caught the entire attack from start to finish, including the dramatic moment when people on either end of the bridge scattered, trying to get back to land as the middle snapped in two, collapsing into the water. The two pillars that had stood in the Thames seemed to explode at once, and several people plunged into the icy waters below.

As soon as they could, they raced back to the station. She had called her boss and told him they'd caught the entire thing on tape, and he was ecstatic to learn Channel 4 would have an exclusive look at this "tragedy on the bridge" as it was called. He ordered her to hang around long enough to grab a statement from local authorities and then hightail it back for editing before the evening news.

It was her first time making the coveted evening news slot, and there was no amount of jealous coworkers that could put a damper on her excitement and pride at this achievement. Shelby went home and celebrated with Thad later that night, crossing her fingers in the hopes this would be the boost she needed to perhaps get a regular spot in one of the news hours.

Shelby tried to tell her mother about the segment, but she was interrupted when The Daily Prophet arrived and broke the news that the Bones family had been obliterated by Death Eaters. Shelby left their meeting annoyed that her cousin once again trumped her in her entire family's eyes.

By the time the war was over and Voldemort was defeated, Shelby had earned a promotion and regular spot in the morning time slot. It wasn't the evening news, but it was a huge step up from running stories that might or might not actually air at all. Thad convinced her not to try and share her good news with her family, and it turned out to be a wise decision when she learned Rita had earned an award that was the first of its kind in Wizarding journalism.

Boxing Day that year was an awful experience. But it did inspire her in a direction she'd never considered moving.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It started with a simple question.

"Have you ever wondered why magic interferes with our technology the way it does?" Shelby asked one morning over breakfast.

Thad stabbed a sausage with his fork and ate it, looking at her thoughtfully. "Hmm," he said after swallowing his mouthful, "I suppose I've wondered about that when I'm at work, yeah. Got any theories?"

This was how their conversations went. One of them would pose a question or hypothetical, and they would debate ideas back and forth.

"I think there's a distance at which magic cannot interfere with technology," she said seriously, her eyes narrowing. "In fact, I'm certain of it after the bridge incident. How else could we have caught all that on camera?"

"True," he said, rubbing his chin. "I suppose the question there is what that distance is. I mean, it's not like the camera could pick up on the subtleties of spell fire that hit the bridge, so there's still something else interfering with what it could capture."

"Yes, but is it at the beginning of capture or is it in the editing?" Shelby asked, posing the question she'd really been wrestling with for the last several weeks. Thad looked at her with a curious expression on his face and she elaborated. "I just wonder if maybe the camera does capture the spell fire and other magic in the recording, but when it's hooked up to our computers, maybe something funky happens with the recording as it transfers to the system. Make sense?"

Thad took a while to think that through, and Shelby let him, content to work on her eggs. She was finishing up her breakfast and munching the last of her toast when he met her eyes, an arresting look in his own.

"You know something?" He asked her, his brows drawn together. "We've been working on a new security system at work, and they're incorporating this new technology that's being developed. It records in real time, like any other camera, and stores in real time."

"What does that mean?" She asked.

"It means you don't have to connect the camera to a computer in order to send the recording to a storage device," he said. "Well, actually, it means that based on the camera's location, it stays constantly connected to a computer where it stores all records. They're calling it DVR for short."

"Is that like VCR?" Shelby asked, intrigued with this new system.

"Yeah, sort of," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you hate it when I get all technical, but this basically allows everything to record to a central location and gives you real-time access to a feed of information if you need it. They've been using it in different client buildings to allow guards to simply sit back and watch the goings-on there, and if necessary, they can look back at recordings to check them."

His eyes lit up and he added, "But I think there are some other applications for this that might really be interesting. Imagine if there was a way to send CCTV footage straight to multiple TVs at once. I mean, you could send footage to the news stations and have them televise it live as it was happening, rather than using recordings from hours before."

Thad smiled genuinely at her, and she felt her heart clench. His eyes were always the brightest light to her, and he was the one who made her feel like she was home. In a world where she was never fully on one side or the other of a great divide, there was Thad, always around to keep her grounded and give her safe haven.

"You know," he said with a smirk, "I've been toying with the idea of leaving Littings and going somewhere else. I might put in a few applications with some of the bigger technology players and see if I can get in somewhere."

"You can do anything," Shelby replied with an easy smile. And she believed it was true.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was after Thad got the coveted job with a huge tech firm that they really struck gold. Shelby knew they were playing a dangerous game, but she couldn't help herself. It didn't hurt that Thad would go along with almost any of her suggestions, but he, too, was wondering if it was even possible to catch magical happenings on camera.

They'd given up on any dreams of capturing magic on film. That ship had sailed long before they'd been born. It was true that Muggles had a different type of camera than Wizards did, and it was also true that when using a Muggle camera to snap a picture of something magical, the film never turned out. It was either blurry or black but never a visible piece of evidence of a larger magical world.

With the advent of DVRs and especially this system of digital networks that had Thad completely enthralled, however, they wondered if they would maybe be able to capture the magic of the world around them. Thad's company was on the up-and-coming list of technology firms, and they were constantly innovating and finding ways to offer more applications of digital storage devices and networking hubs. It all confused Shelby, even though Thad patiently explained the different technology terms and drew diagrams to help her understand.

As Thad's career took off, Shelby's also continued in its slow, upward swing. She was a fixture on the morning news, and she had more stories under her belt now than ever. Her producer listened to her opinion and often allowed her to go after her preferences, trusting her to do quality work.

She'd honed her journalistic nose and sniffed out controversy in almost every nook and cranny of the different stories she tackled. It made for excellent viewing, and their ratings always stayed high enough that she could pursue her interests. She'd even broken a few stories before their competitors, mainly about actors and politicians, that even her coworkers couldn't figure out how she'd scooped everyone else.

It never seemed enough for the Turner-Skeeter clan, however. Regardless of their disdain for her profession, she endeavored to share with them how much progress she'd made, how she'd gone from such humble roots and made her way onto London television and even occasional national news.

She'd interviewed the winners of Big Brother on its fifth anniversary, resulting in public outcry when one of the winners decried the game makers as permitting abuse between the contestants. Her aunt yawned and asked her why on earth someone would participate in some game that enforced isolation from anyone else. She'd been at several of the events of the Golden Jubilee in 2002 and been close enough to the Queen to get a view of her stunning gown and incredible poise that Shelby had tried her darnedest to mimic ever since. Her uncle rolled his eyes and told her the Queen ought to be thankful she even had a kingdom to run since the Statute of Secrecy kept Wizardkind from putting Muggles in their rightful place.

Shelby cried as she recounted the bombings of 2005 to her mother. It was day branded into her memory, and when she talked about 7/7, she could smell the burnt air that had coated her throat when she arrived at Tavistock Square, not prepared for the devastation of an explosion that had only occurred half an hour before. Her mother patted her on the back and muttered a "so sorry, dear, must have been awful for you," before asking her if she'd seen Rita's newest book on the Golden Trio.

It was the garish gold lettering on the hardback tome, thick as a Bible, that did it to her.

"Here," Rita said, tossing the book in Shelby's unguarded lap at the Easter dinner.

"Oof," Shelby grunted.

"Don't know why you insist on telling everyone what pathetic things you're doing," Rita said, taking a seat on the chaise longue beside her. "Everyone is so tired of listening to you rattle on about what's happening with Muggles. Don't you get it? No one cares."

She stretched languorously and crossed her ankles, her pointed black boots shined to a sheen. She was wearing what Shelby had come to call "Wizwear" and had on a deep emerald green set of robes over a black pencil skirt and light green silk top. She was wearing matching green spectacles, or perhaps she'd charmed them green, Shelby neither knew nor cared, and her blonde hair was tied up in a severe bun that made her aging features stand out in a rather unflattering manner. Her eyes were lined from years of squinting at the parchment she wrote her articles and books on, and her pinched lips had a permanent moue of distaste.

"You know, cousin," Rita continued when Shelby just stared at her, "if I were you, I'd think about not coming back here again. Everyone's been betting on it for years. Auntie Dru and Auntie Pris keep saying you'll hang in there as long as Auntie Mariah holds that stupid cottage over your head. But I think you'll stop coming this year."

Her eyes took on a vicious gleam, the kind Shelby imagined she affected when she was on the prowl for a story, and she lowered her voice menacingly. "I think you'll stop coming because you'll finally realize there's no way on earth Uncle Marty would ever give you that cottage," she told her cruelly. "And you already know why, don't you?" She surveyed Shelby with a knowing look. "That's right, it's because none of the family will let a Squib inherit magical property."

Shelby resisted the urge to clench her fists or scowl. She did her best. She'd had to keep her cool in worse situations than this, and she had always been praised for her professionalism. But this was Rita. This was the little girl who'd left her tied to the swingset and laughed uproariously every time the story was brought out to embarrass her again. This was the cousin who'd lorded it over her that she was magical while Shelby was not. This was the woman who'd continued to one-up her over and over simply by virtue of having a gift Shelby did not and pursuing the same career in an appropriate context.

"Mmm," Rita said, a smile on her face, "yes, I knew it. Deep down, you know you're not family. And only family inherits." She pushed up from the seat and stood, looking down her upturned nose at Shelby. "Why don't you just get on with your pathetic life and let the real family enjoy some space from your ridiculous Muggle notions? No one would miss you."

Then she turned and walked off into the crowded dining room where the voices and numerous nieces and nephews clamored louder. Shelby sat still, the untouched book still in her lap. She had ignored her mother when she talked about this "triumph" of Rita's last year because she was still reeling from the terrorist attacks.

Now she gazed at the image of three teens, two boys and a girl, all in Hogwarts uniforms. They wore the red and gold scarves of that one house with the lion emblems, and they had their arms around each other. The one in the middle was Harry Potter–she knew from the scar and glasses–and the other two were his best friends, though she'd forgotten their names.

The title read: Golden Trio: Heroic Best Friends or a Dangerous and Menacing Triad? In small silver font to one side, a subscript read: Winner of the Skeeter Award for Best Journalistic Storytelling. Shelby rolled her eyes at that.

Two days later she was treated to a copy of The Daily Prophet that made her want to vomit. On the cover–above the fold even–was a garish image of Rita holding some sort of trophy. The title of the article read: Skeeter Scoops Another Three Awards for Best Journalist, Most Excellent Detective Work, and First Journalist to Unite Magical and Muggle Interests in Print. Her eyes were riveted to the article, and she read it three times over before Thad joined her for breakfast.

"Can you believe this?" Shelby asked, in a right tizzy. She was enraged at the audacity of this sham of a newspaper. "They actually are trying to claim Rita's the first person to cover both magical and Muggle interests in any format because she talked about that Muggle-born witch's search for her parents in Australia. You know the one, that friend of Harry Potter, right?" Thad nodded as he poured some tea, still groggy.

"They're saying Rita's 'professional and compassionate approach to assisting Miss Granger in her search has made her a beacon for hope that magical and Muggle interests can continue to coincide in peace,'" Shelby read aloud. "What a load of tripe! I know there's no way she helped that girl after all the vitriol she spilled during their school years. She probably snuck around behind her back and found out secrets she shouldn't and then put it in writing without so much as a 'by your leave' from Granger."

Thad sat a cup of tea and plate of toast on the table in front her and then put the same out for himself.

"And what's worse?" Shelby continued, grabbing her knife and waving it in the air. "Poor Franklin's published, what? Five books now? Five books that bridge the gap between magic and Muggles and tell real stories of how the two have impacted one another! Yet he's not even mentioned in this dumpster heap of an article! Instead it's all Rita-this and Rita-that with tales of her 'incredible' journalistic feats."

She swiped up a smidge of jam and spread it over her bread in sharp, jerky motions.

"Hey," Thad said, putting a hand over her own. "Relax. Breathe. Eat."

She sighed and then picked up the toast, taking a bite and savoring the delicious sweetness on her tongue. Shelby went back to the paper, reading through the rest of the pages without really seeing them until Thad cleared his throat.

"You need to get going," he said gently, smiling at her.

She glanced at the stove and saw the time. It was half-five. Still dark and very early, and she would always be grateful that even though he didn't have to wake up so early, he still did every morning so he could see her off.

He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it, with a heated look in his eyes that melted her inside. "I want you to meet me at Charing Cross tonight," he told her. "I want you to see something that I think you'll really like. Seven work?"

"Sure," she replied, surprised. "I'll be there."

"Don't be late," he said with a wink.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Shelby made it to the Leaky Cauldron in record time despite traffic and stood outside the doors of the decrepit looking building.

"Over here," she heard, and she looked around till she saw him. Standing across the busy street was Thad, wearing the biggest cheshire cat grin she'd ever seen. Shelby made her way to him at the crosswalk and put her hands on her hips.

"All right, then," she said, "what's the big surprise?"

"Look," Thad said, pointing back across the street.

She turned with a sharp word on her lips as she'd just been over there and seen nothing of note. Then her eyes widened and the word died before it was formed. She stared entranced, ignoring the passers-by who likely wondered what the two found so interesting about the ladders perched on the side of a records shop anyway.

Shelby watched as two men stood atop the building, holding some tools and working quickly and efficiently to attach…were those cameras? She blinked and rubbed her eyes. It had been a long day, but yes, it was cameras. This area had never been subject to CCTV monitoring before. She knew. She'd checked.

"What's going on?" She asked, turning to Thad to confirm what she saw.

He nodded at her triumphantly. "Yes, it's cameras," he said. "They're setting up some closed circuit cameras around the entire building and along the alleyway there between the Leaky and the records shop."

"B-but how?" She asked, shocked. "How are they even able to do this?"

"Let's just say I talked to my boss and showed him something he wasn't able to believe but wanted to be the first to prove."

She felt panic rising in her chest that she couldn't control, but Thad's hand on her arm calmed her.

"I didn't tell him about magic," he told her, eyes locked onto hers. "I just told him that you've been doing a lot of research and investigation into a huge story that could rock the nation. I mentioned that you were having trouble getting the evidence you need and that it would really help if you had some sort of networked system of cameras where you could piece together the proof."

She stared at him as he continued.

"And then I showed him the map," Thad said with a smirk, "and as he looked at all these locations around London, he realized if it was as important as I said, he wanted to be in on the news." Thad shrugged. "So he bought the record shop."

Her jaw dropped.

"And he bought Brunnings Mechanics, too," Thad added with a self-satisfied grin. "And before you ask, he also got permits to install additional cameras around Albert Rd. in Hounslow."

Shelby's eyes lit with a fierce joy, and she gripped the lapels of his jacket tightly in her hands, drawing him down to her for a searing kiss, heedless of the pedestrians around them.

"God, I love you," she whispered as she pulled away. "Want to, maybe, head home for a bit of a celebration?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"I do," he said, heat in his gaze, "but before we do, fancy a cuppa?" He nodded toward the Leaky. "I've been watching it for a while now, and I'm certain they know what's up. Might be interesting to overhear their thoughts."

She smirked. "It might, at that." Linking arms with him, she let him guide her back across the street and into the seedy-looking pub.

They hadn't been settled with their drinks for long before two wizards came in, noticeable primarily because of their bright red hair. Shelby and Thad were tucked away in a corner behind a table that had a rather large vase full of ugly blue flowers in it. She would swear the flowers were undulating every few minutes.

"I'm telling you, George, it isn't on," said the one who looked slightly older. He wore neatly pressed Wizwear robes of black and a pair of shiny glasses perched on his nose.

"Really, Perce, give it a rest," the other one replied. Shelby noticed he was missing an ear, which was a bit disconcerting. "You've been going on about this for the last week now."

"Well, yes," the first one said. "I mean, I told Minister Shacklebolt–" here George gave a cough that sounded like "Kingsley" to which he glared– "that he needs to go see the Muggle Prime Minister about this. We have these regulations in place to protect everyone!"

"And," he continued as George made to speak, "there's Muggle regulations as well that are being violated here! There's one that states specifically that certain areas of London are off-limits to surveillance."

"Percy, did you really swallow another book?" George asked incredulously. "Honestly, you don't need to worry. You're going to put yourself in an early grave and then what will Pen think? You and I both know Muggle technology never picks up on magic."

Shelby stood. She'd heard enough. They left the two wizards arguing with one another, but she and Thad had some celebrating to do.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Oh my god, oh my god, I've done it!" Shelby shouted as she entered the flat, and she dumped her bag on the floor, racing into the small sitting room.

"Thad! Where are you? Get out here!" She called as she stood in front of the small TV they had. She paced back and forth, rubbing her hands together in excitement.

"What? What's wrong?" Thad said, rushing into the room from their bedroom.

"Nothing! Everything's just right!" She told him eagerly. Her eyes lit up with glee as she raced up to him and gave him a hard kiss. She backed away again and then turned around in a circle. "Wait! Where's my bag?"

She ran back to the entry and snatched up the discarded item again. Bringing it into the sitting room, she sank onto the loveseat, patting the spot next to her. Thad joined her as she was sliding her laptop out of the case. She booted it up and clicked a small icon on the front screen.

She scrolled through some files before selecting one that had a very generic title of the date followed by the letters SMH. Double-clicking it brought up a viewing screen, and Shelby set the laptop on the small coffee table before them and sat back to watch.

The screen opened to a view of a camera facing along the side of the road in front of Purge and Dowse, Ltd., the decrepit department store that housed the bustling St. Mungo's. People walked along the sidewalks and cars cruised down the busy street, but Shelby had selected a time stamp at mid-day for just this reason.

A bus cruised down the road followed by two taxis. After the taxis passed, chaos ensued. Two people ran through traffic to cross the road, awkwardly supporting a third, slumped between them. Horns honked, and people slammed on their brakes as the small group ran, heedless of danger, towards the hospital entrance. Immediately behind them came a screaming man with disheveled red robes and hair that stood up at all ends. He was a sight in and of himself, but the real treat was the way his rage drove him to brandish a small stick at the three.

He cast his spells in a loud, angry voice that didn't quite carry through the horns to the camera, but it was clear he had spoken some very strange words as witnessed by the Muggles who were stepping back to avoid him. His spells hit, and one of the wizards slumped immediately to the ground, causing the injured middle man and the supporting wizard to careen to the side, almost falling on top of him.

The uninjured wizard quickly removed his companion's arm from around his shoulder and turned back, only to clutch at his arm as it spurted copious amounts of blood. The pedestrians were now shouting in surprise, and two men darted forward, as if to help the injured off the streets.

The angry wizard screamed again in fury before turning in a circle in the middle of the street, vanishing entirely. And then true chaos emerged.

Shelby paused the video here since there wasn't much more that happened beyond the absolutely baffled Muggles trying to piece together what had just taken place in front of their eyes. She quickly moved the video forward to another timestamp only half an hour later.

The street was filled with police cars and officers prowled about, interviewing witnesses. Suddenly a contingent of robed and hooded people converged on the street, heading out of different alleys and doorways. Within moments, the camera caught images of these Obliviators as they moved from one person to the next, swiftly and accurately modifying memories. No one evaded them, and in fact, it appeared no one even realized they were there. There wasn't a single person who looked up from what they were doing or acknowledged the strangely dressed army of wizards who had just come out of seemingly nowhere.

When they finished their job, the camera tracked them as they quickly entered St. Mungo's. On the street, the police officers disbanded, acting as if they were sending home some sort of protesting party and then took off in their cruisers.

"You did it."

Thad's voice shook with pride, glee, and sheer shock that all their work and planning had finally paid off. He leaned over and kissed her cheek before leaping to his feet and pulling her up as well. He gripped her arms hard and then kissed her senseless. Shelby returned the kiss, matching stroke for stroke as they celebrated their hard-won proof, evidence that what they'd been laying the groundwork for over the course of years could now be used to blow the Wizarding world wide open.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Shelby spent a lot of time discussing her plans with her producer. She'd gotten old enough to realize her dreams of hitting the evening news were less likely to happen. After working hard and earning her place on the morning news, she had decided on different plans. So she arranged a meeting one weekend and sat him down to discuss her big break story.

It was her golden goose. The one that would lay golden eggs that she could cash in on for years to come. And she'd already laid the groundwork for it to pay off. She only had to find the right jumping off point for a story to be told that would blow up the Wizarding world's Statute of Secrecy once and for all. She was eager to either find or create the right circumstances for her pet project to come out on national TV, and in her estimation, it wouldn't take much to make it happen.

What she told her boss, however, was quite a different story. Rather than try to lay the secret of an entirely separate world out and have him laugh her out of the restaurant, Shelby let him in on a huge research piece she was investigating. She wove him a tale of a high-powered, classically "perfect" couple that owned several big businesses who were in the throes of a domestic violence dispute as they tried to sever ties from one another. She told him about how this power couple had been seen arguing around London, even leaving a black tie restaurant after the concierge had to escort them out when they made a huge scene. By the end, he was practically drooling at the thought of breaking such a story. The only problem, she told him, was she wanted to catch the actual fighting on camera.

The couple was scheduled for an appearance at a local charity foodbank, followed by a fancy invitation-only fundraising dinner, and Shelby had managed to score a press invite to the event. Her producer lapped up every word and greenlit the project so fast he nearly made her head spin. She requested to drop off a few video files she'd captured, and he agreed to allow her to dictate when and how those videos were shared so long as she brought him a story worth sharing.

After spending a good chunk of time with the guys in the video editing team, Shelby was assured they knew what buzzwords to listen for and when to cue up different files. She'd made them promise not to touch the files at all unless it was to air them on live TV, certainly an unorthodox request, but they'd heard worse. They rolled their eyes but told her they would not touch the files till they were needed.

And so, the die was cast. Shelby just needed her catalyst, which she was ready to provide. Now she just needed to pack.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Melissa Caruthers-Brown was a Muggleborn witch who had grown up largely after the Second Wizarding War rocked the magical world. She'd been blessed to have two Muggle parents who cared for her enough that when she received her Hogwarts letter, they began to do their research and learned about the chaos unfolding in this strange new world. Despite their dealings in large businesses in the UK, the couple chose to move straight-away to France and enrolled Melissa in Beauxbatons for her magical education.

After the war was over and Melissa had matriculated, the Caruthers moved back to their lush English estate. Her father had been back several times on business, and of course, his business partners were well equipped to handle his absence, which he brushed off as being due to his daughter's educational needs. When he returned and took up the reins again, it was to a booming company that had gone public and was now heavily traded. In short, Melissa was an heiress in the Muggle world.

She found herbology suited her and helped her with her pharmaceutical pursuits, and when she joined a magical herbology foundation, she met her husband, Jared Brown. Jared was the son of a branch of the Pureblood Brown family who had gone slightly rogue with both his love of herbology, thanks to Professor Longbottom, and his love of Melissa. When the two married, it was with divided family feelings. The Caruthers were happy for their daughter, while the Browns wondered if it was quite alright for their son to marry a Muggleborn witch. Old feelings will out, after all.

They'd married quickly and moved into one of the Caruthers properties where they could pursue their herbology experiments. Melissa worked steadily on producing Muggle and magical plants that could be introduced into pharmaceuticals because she had taken on a presiding role in one of her father's pharmaceutical companies. Jared, on the other hand, was constantly tinkering with plants and crossbreeding in the hopes of creating more dangerous and deadly plants that could be turned into defensive weapons.

Shelby had stumbled upon the couple by a chance comment made by Iris at one of the SSS meetings. She'd overheard the woman asking Patience if her cousin was still having problems with his wife. Shelby moved closer, holding her drink and offering a smile as she joined the conversation.

It turned out that Patience was distantly related to Jared Brown and was considered to be non-familia anymore. She did keep up with the Browns, though, through her sister, a devoted witch who hadn't lost touch with her Squib sister and relished in exchanging family gossip with her in exchange for stories of Patience's acting adventures and run-ins with famous actors.

Married life hadn't turned up roses (or dittany) for Jared and Melissa. In fact, it seemed to be a bit more Devil's snare than anything else, and the two had become bitter over Melissa's refusal to quit her job in the Muggle world and move into a proper magical career. Jared felt she had no ties to Muggles and should leave that world behind her now that she was part of a good, solid Wizarding family. The two had come to blows over it on more than one occasion, though the blows were more often than not from different plants the couple left in each other's path.

It was true, of course, that they were scheduled to attend an upcoming charity fundraiser, and Shelby had every intention of being the press insert who caught the fireworks on camera. She just had to provide the right incentive. With a little conversation with Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, she'd found her way to the entrance of Diagon Alley and walked purposefully to a vendor in Knockturn Alley who could procure a veritable treasure trove of plants on short notice.

Two days after she placed her order, she received an owl outside her flat with a short note. "It's here. You have two days to pick it up or it goes to the next customer." She went after work and carried home a box full of something the proprietor–such as he was–warned would be deadly in the wrong hands. He made her swear not to open the box, which was warded, until she was ready to use it. Shelby agreed and took the box home, hoping to be the change she wanted to see in the world with this one crucial step.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The day of the charity dinner came, and Shelby had her cameraman, Trey, set up two cameras, in strategically chosen corners where the press were allowed to congregate before and after the dinner. They'd been given their own seating at specific tables where they would be comfortable but out of the way of the important guests.

Shelby ate before she came. She wasn't going to have time to eat dinner.

She went through the motions of recording the intro to her segment, discussing the charity and its work, the gala and some of the best items in the silent auction, and the guest list. It likely would never make it off the editing table and into people's homes after what she had planned, but she was a pro and wouldn't let herself down.

She resisted the urge to rub her hands together when Jared and Melissa arrived and made the rounds, getting photographed and then greeting their colleagues and friends in the business world. They went to their assigned table, which just happened to be very near to the corner where she and Trey were stationed.

It was a pleasant surprise when she watched the redhead and his wife approach the two with large smiles and greetings. She didn't know other wizards were invited to this event. They went to a different table on the other side of the room, and she sighed in relief. She couldn't afford any interference tonight.

The host stood to introduce the event, and Shelby watched as the gathered crowd moved to their seats, sans the reporters who were recording every word. After he made his short welcome, he bid everyone sit to enjoy the dinner. Trey began to step away from the camera so he could move to the press tables along with the others who were stepping away, but Shelby moved over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Should have told me to eat first, love," he scolded her amiably before she could say a word. "At least get me a piece of cake when we're done here, deal?"

She laughed. "Of course, I will," she told him. They'd worked together so much he knew better than to argue with her when she wanted to keep filming.

The corner quickly emptied, and Trey stayed at his post, waiting for something to happen.

The first course came out, and with it came a waiter who rolled out a beautifully decorated box with a plush purple bow. He wheeled it directly to the table where Jared and Melissa sat, with all eyes following his movements.

"That'll be your story, I take it?" Trey asked quietly but astutely.

"Get in close," she replied, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It's going to get interesting."

He chuckled, but she knew he'd do as she asked.

The waiter proffered the box to Melissa and quickly moved aside her table setting to place it on the table before her. With nothing for it but to open the gift that had shown up, she was forced to stand and tug off the garish purple bow Shelby had tied earlier that morning. A tag on the box simply read "From an admirer of your work" and was discarded onto the table alongside the bow.

Melissa gingerly lifted the top of the box off, and all hell broke loose.

It was better than Shelby could have possibly imagined.

The first shout came from a shocked Melissa as the plant inside launched itself at her. It practically leapt out of the carefully warded box that Shelby had wrapped and aimed poisonous vines at the witch's face. And as Shelby planned, Melissa acted on instinct. A wand was in her hand before Shelby could quite see where it came from, and she had shoved her chair back, waving it wildly.

"Arresto momentum!" She screamed as guests around her jerked away from the table.

That was the wrong spell to use.

The nice man on Knockturn Alley had assured Shelby this plant had been carefully cultivated to be resistant to a variety of spells, and now she saw how right he was. Rather than stopping the plant mid-flight, the spell seemed to somehow enrage the lush greenery as it swept vines like tentacles in deadly arcs towards the witch.

She threw herself to the side, her emerald dress hampering the motion a bit, and one of the vines managed to slap her left arm. Melissa shrieked in pain as she landed, and Shelby heard Trey in the background on the phone with their producer.

"Get us on the air now! I don't care what's on, you want to see this," he insisted.

She held her mic loosely as she awaited the command she knew would come. It wouldn't be her first evening news segment, but it would certainly be her most memorable.

The tables nearby had emptied of guests, and many had raced back to the back of the room, which conveniently hampered the progress of many of her colleagues as they tried to get up to the action. Meanwhile the plant was still attempting to attack Melissa. It was on the ground now, vines moving wildly as she scrambled away from it. She screamed out another spell, waving her wand. Whatever she did sent the plant rolling backwards towards a group of terrified guests, who instantly scattered.

"Get ready," Trey tersely ordered. She held up her mic in response. "We're live in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…"

"Good evening," Shelby said, her smooth tones a contrast to the screaming around her as she faced the camera and allowed the chaos to continue behind her. "I'm here at the Gramercy Park Charitable Gala where quite an unusual situation has occurred. I'd like to allow our viewers the chance to watch as, what appears to be an animated plant has attacked a guest."

She stepped aside in one fluid motion while Trey continued to film and continued her commentary. He slipped her an earbud and she popped it in her ear, ignoring the sounds of her producer talking in the background. She had a story to get out, and she was damned if he was going to mess it up.

Melissa was firing spells faster now, and Shelby discussed her dress, her poise, and the wooden stick she was brandishing as well as the plant that would not die. Jared was standing nearby, shellshocked, and she couldn't wait to see what would happen once Melissa was no longer in fear for her life.

A shriek of "Incendio" filled the air, cutting off all other sound, and Shelby couldn't stop the grin that split her face as a flame erupted from the wand and hit the plant square on, causing an immediate fire. The plant gave an agonized shriek of its own as the fire finally managed to take it down. With the plant charring before her, the Muggleborn witch turned on her husband in a righteous fury.

"How dare you!" She screamed, and Shelby shut her mouth. There was no need for commentary now. "How dare you sic one of your Merlin-cursed creations on me! And at the gala of all places!"

She brandished her wand at her husband and yelled a curse. Once more, a wand appeared before Shelby could fully determine where it had come from, and suddenly the air was filled with the curses of a husband and wife as the Muggles either raced from the building in abject terror or stubbornly tried to move toward their equipment, in the case of the journalists.

Even though she was planning to break the story, Shelby mentally cheered on her colleagues. They had brass balls, she knew. Some of them had been in war-torn nations and seen things that would send most people screaming for their mommies. They still stepped up to the challenge of trying to figure out just what on earth they were witnessing, and some of them made it to their cameras and got them rolling. She heard it when a few were able to start their own evening segments and smirked at the knowledge that no amount of Obliviation would fix this mess.

Trey kept rolling even as they both heard their producer call the commercial break. He was foaming at the mouth with excitement, she could tell. When he asked if this was the big break, Shelby quickly confirmed it and requested to come back on to share the full story. He agreed, and that was the end of that conversation as they had to resume some of the regular news segments that had already been scheduled.

The redhead and his wife had come forward with their own wands brandished. She recognized him from the Leaky Cauldron. He had those perfectly pressed robes there, but here he was in an equally proper suit. It contrasted nicely with the wand. His wife wore an evening gown of navy blue, and she appeared reluctant to join the fray and content to let her husband shout down the dueling couple.

Around her she heard the confused discussion of her fellow reporters, and Shelby only wished they could break the same amazing story she was about to. It would add to the validity of all the proof she planned to deliver in one fell swoop. She realized, however, that things were winding down. The room was almost empty now, only a few lone waiters remained at the edges of the kitchen entrance, clearly uncertain what they should do. One had ventured forth with a pitcher of water that she threw on the burning plant before turning tail and rushing back to the kitchen.

She recognized that the redhead was finally managing to talk sense into the couple and turned to Trey. "We need to go," she told him flatly.

"What?" He asked, shocked. "But it was just getting good! What was that, anyway?"

"Don't ask stupid questions," she replied. "I'll explain everything, but we have to leave. Now."

The urgency in her tone must have reached him, because he instantly shut down the camera. He took the mic and pulled the camera off the tripod, stowing it in the bag, Then he repeated the process with the camera he'd left running in the other corner. Shelby grabbed one bag, noting that her colleagues were looking at her askance–it wasn't like her to leave a huge story like this–and grabbed Trey's arm, tugging him to the kitchen entrance when he headed for the lobby.

She walked briskly through the kitchen, muttering to herself as she went. Shelby was not about to be caught by Obliviators and unable to finish her story. She heard it when the producer came back on the earwig, demanding an update.

"Give us three minutes," she replied tersely.

She guided Trey out of the large hotel they'd been in and walked briskly to a nearby tube station entrance. Shelby watched as several people in robes walked out of the train that had just arrived and headed up the stairs, not paying her or Trey any mind. She waited till the station had mostly cleared out and then motioned for him to get set up.

He held the camera up on his shoulder as she took the mic. They awaited the time call before she flickered onto screens across the country.

"Hello, I'm Shelby Turner, and I'm here to explain exactly what you all saw happen at the Gramercy Park Charitable Gala," she began. "The images you saw before may confuse many of you and upset you with how violent they were, and I apologize for that. However, those images show you the truth of a world that has been kept hidden from you all for hundreds of years."

She looked into the camera earnestly, hoping beyond hope that the message would get out there. "As insane as it may sound, what you just saw on live television was a display of magic," she continued, voice strong. "We know magic as parlor tricks of the rabbit-in-a-hat variety, but what you witnessed was true magic, and every day hundreds of us walk right by examples of it without noticing it. Why? Because our minds have been wiped, and we've forgotten we ever saw magic in the first place."

That was the first cue, and she heard it when the producer gave the call. She went silent, and Trey stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. She knew he would have to see the different takes the video editing crew were now blasting into homes and on screens around the country, but for now, he probably thought she'd lost the plot entirely. Even so, when the producer came back a few minutes later, he gamely continued filming. He'd heard the note of trepidation in the man's voice and knew something big was happening.

"As you've seen, magic is among us, but the wielders of magic, who call themselves wizards and witches, are not content with our knowing about it," she reported, keeping her voice calm. She'd rehearsed this so many times she could say it in her sleep. "They send out specialized teams to wipe out memories of normal humans who might otherwise be able to give voice to the truth that magic exists. In fact, if you investigate hard enough, you might even discover the entrance to a branch of government outside our own."

She stopped speaking before the call came, knowing the next clip would be short but poignant. She wasn't sure how Thad had done it, but he'd somehow managed to come up with a device that could actually record sound from that weird visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Paired with a short video she'd scored of a woman entering the telephone box and then it lowering out of sight, the clip made for compelling proof. So far, she mused, so good. If no one had stopped the story, that meant that–at least in the newsroom–it was being viewed as real.

"A magical branch of government seems to be a large breach of etiquette and power that the current Prime Minister and Parliament will undoubtedly want to investigate," she commented when she came back on. This world that has its own form of government and allows normal humans to have their memories erased also has its own educational system and entire areas where wizards and witches congregate that normal humans are incapable of seeing due to magic."

She knew the next clips would include one of the Leaky Cauldron entrance to Diagon Alley opening for a wizard. That one had been especially hard to catch. There was simply no way for Thad to get cameras to work within a certain distance of the alley. He'd tried all the latest models and done everything he could until one day he managed it by using a camera he installed on a whim on a taller building several blocks away. He'd zoomed in and somehow the image came in as crisp and clear as day as the wizard tapped the brick that opened the entrance to Diagon Alley.

The other clip was one she had laughed and laughed at when she first saw it. They'd taken a trip to Hogsmeade a few years ago, and one of the things Thad insisted on was walking the area around Hogwarts. Strangely enough, they knew the castle was there but weren't quite able to figure out where it was. It seemed the Muggle-repelling charms kept them from understanding where the grounds began, but it didn't keep them from figuring out where the boundaries of those grounds were.

He'd installed cameras in different areas with high hopes. Somehow her brilliant man had done it again, and this clip showed a set of owls heading towards Hogwarts. All of them had parchment tied to their legs, which would be strange enough for those watching, but as they flew toward the grounds, they suddenly vanished as if they'd flown through a one-way mirror.

Shelby could hear her producer's shock when he gave the call this time, and while Trey was still scratching his head in confusion, she could hardly contain herself.

"Magic is real, and we've been kept in the dark for centuries," she said, her voice strong. "You've seen the evidence, but consider that even maps of London leave broad swaths dark, as if its undiscovered space. Consider that decrepit storefronts have been allowed to languish for years while their neighboring businesses keep up decent appearances and the general area suffers a decline in value due to the so-called condemned buildings that have never been torn down or in any way changed. Consider that many children simply disappear from our classrooms with no records of their having continued their education past their primary schooling. We at Channel 4 demand that the government investigate this magical component of our world and the wizards and witches who walk among us and feel it their right to erase our memories. We will, of course, hand over all evidence to the authorities and offer our proof for their use."

With a grave air, she brought it home. "The people of London, the citizens of England and the United Kingdom, should never live in fear that their memories are false," she said. "We aim to make sure the truth of the world is known and bring about some cooperation between our world and a world where magic allows both wondrous and dangerous things. I'm Shelby Turner, Channel 4."

Trey cut his hand across his throat, signaling the end of the segment, and she sagged against the tube wall behind her.

"What the bloody hell was that?" He asked, naked fear and anger in his voice. He bundled up the camera and mic before standing to look at her again.

Shelby shrugged, feeling suddenly drained. "It was the truth," she told him.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Rita walked into the newsroom of The Daily Prophet with a languid air. She'd been up late the night before celebrating yet another award she'd received. She still had a bit of a headache from all the fire whiskey they'd drunk, but she was at least in the office. She didn't have to come everyday, but somehow she'd known something good would happen today.

Setting her bag on the table in her office, she shut the door and stretched, feeling her back pop. Then she sat down at the desk and pulled out the newest shiny award to add to her collection. She'd only just managed to set it on her desk and begin perusing her shelves for space when her door opened without so much as a knock.

"Rita, you've got to see this."

It was Wallace…Walter? She couldn't remember his name, and she didn't remember when she'd given him leave to call her by name.

"This is your cousin, right?" He asked.

What was his name again? Wendell, that was it. He was new. She'd have to teach him how to treat his betters.

Before she could address his manners, however, Wendell slapped a paper down on her desk, covering the lovely plaque she'd just set there. She scowled at him before looking at the paper below.

It was a copy of The Quibbler of all absurd things.

"It's too early for such ridiculous drivel," she reprimanded him. "I'm going to need my tea before–"

"Might want to read that now," he said before abruptly turning and leaving the office, not bothering to close the door behind him.

There was a set of pictures on the front, she realized, and in one of them was, indeed, her cousin. Rita sat down hard, and pulled the paper to her. The image was a stationary one of Shelby Turner from one of those strange Muggle devices, a Telly. Rita scanned the next images. Someone had caught a picture of the dueling Caruthers-Brown couple, which wasn't too surprising. She'd known that ship was going down fast for a while now. Then she looked closer and realized the picture wasn't taken in a Magical context. She stared at the caption.

"Jared Brown and Melissa Caruthers-Brown openly dueled one another at a Muggle hotel last night in London."

Rita sat back in shock. Then she shifted her gaze to the header. "Squib Shelby Turner, also a reporter on Muggle TV, broke the news to the Muggle world that Wizards and Witches exist. Reports have come in that Muggles are now protesting outside St. Mungo's and Diagon Alley while the Muggle Queen is expected to issue a statement soon."

She sat stock still for a long moment, her mouth hanging open. She closed it with an audible snap when she realized her door was still open and the newsroom had gone incredibly quiet. Rita looked up and saw gazes quickly shift away from her. They'd all been watching for her reaction, she realized. They all knew this was her family member.

Damn.

She looked down and began to read the article. It went from bad to worse as she learned just what the Wizarding world knew of the plot by Shelby to bring their magic into the light. She finished reading the overly-embellished tripe (or so she hoped) and stood up, needing to do something, she just wasn't sure what.

"Well, what are you going to do about that?"

She jerked her head up to see Mattheus Gamp, the owner of the paper, watching her with his crooked gaze. Rita swallowed hard. He'd never looked so furious before, angry at the situation and pissed that they'd been scooped on something of this magnitude.

"I'm going to find Shelby," she said without thought.

He nodded and turned away from her, and Rita picked up her bag to leave, the damning magazine and neglected award still on her desk. She had to fix this, and she needed to start with that disgusting Squib cousin of hers.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The headlines from The Independent and other major newspapers drifted in, covered in big, bold print that told the story of a world turned upside-down.

Prime Minister Resigns After Magical Dealings with Wizard Government Come to Light

MI5 to Investigate the Depths of Wizarding Government's Influence in Parliament and Beyond

Queen Issues Official Pardon to Turner and Flint, Offers Warm Welcome Home

"Squibs" Rejoice At Collision of Magical and Muggle Worlds, Say It's "A Breath of Fresh Air"

Queen Approves Creation of Department for the Cooperation of Magic and Normal Governments

Five Arrested in First Case Against Wizards, MI5 to Co-Lead Investigation

First Criminal Case Against Wizards Goes to Trial, Sets New Precedents with Two Justice Systems Presiding

Shelby sighed and shoved the pile of papers to the side. The Wizarding headlines painted quite a different view of events.

Squib Outs Wizards, Threatens Statute of Secrecy After Three Centuries

Minister Shacklebolt Calls for Calm, Demands No Attacks on Squibs

Arrest Warrants Out for Shelby Turner and Thaddeus Flint, Aurors Say The Squibs Fled the Country

Minister Shacklebolt Invited to Tea with Muggle Queen in First "Bid for Peace and Cooperation"

Five Arrested in Attack on Squib Home After Muggle Police Arrived First to the Scene, Minister Shacklebolt Orders Wands Confiscated and Prisoners Remanded to Muggle Authorities

Minister Shacklebolt, Muggle Queen, and New Prime Minister Meet to Discuss Upcoming Trial for Wizards Indicted in Squib Attack, Queen Warns No Wands Are Allowed in Court Room

First Trial for Wizards in Muggle Court Results in Hung Juries, Muggle Protestors Demand Retrial

The attacks had been on her friend Patience from the SSS. Shelby wasn't happy about it, but there wasn't much she could do from here. She and Thad were ready when she broke the news, and within two days, they'd had their tickets and were on a plane. They landed in South Africa with nothing more than a note Thad had from his boss directing them to an address where they could stay.

It turned out that Thad's eccentric boss had established multiple getaways around the world. He enjoyed travel and obscure and weird hobbies, and so he had found a kindred spirit in Thad when the Squib joined his company and began his pet project of tinkering just so with the technology there. It resulted in a friendship as Thad's boss recognized a kindred spirit in him and rewarded him for his hard work.

Even Thad's boss knew they wouldn't escape the furor Shelby created in the news that fateful day, though. So he offered them the use of one of his many homes and helped them procure plane tickets to get out of the country fast. He'd told Thad in no uncertain terms that he was still an employee and could expect to be paid, which was incredibly generous, and then he'd kissed Shelby on the cheek and thanked her for the most exciting story he'd seen in this or any other lifetime before sending them on their way.

Six months later, the entire Wizarding world had turned topsy-turvy. The internet lasts forever, or so they say, and Shelby had seen to it that all the files she'd collected were uploaded to her very own website. She'd set up a secondary website where people could donate to help keep the website going. The proceeds from that were more than enough to supplement her salary. It seemed no one wanted her to leave Channel 4, but everyone understood why she did once the magical world had the doors blown wide open to normal people.

The term "Muggle" had become a byword for Wizarding prejudice, and all normal news outlets distinguished between magical and normal rather than Muggle. It felt amazing to be recognized as "normal" for once in her life. After decades spent with one leg in and one leg out of the magical world, Shelby was enjoying being well and truly out of the magical world.

That wasn't to say the magical world hadn't tried to invade her own little sanctuary. Rita had sent an owl first and then came herself when she couldn't get a response. She'd gotten as far as the guard room of the large gated neighborhood. Strangely enough, the magical community in South Africa had been thrilled with the burgeoning recognition of their kind by normal people and thought of her as a bit of a mascot for innovation. They'd stationed their own guards and placed wards in the area when they were alerted to her presence, and so when Rita drew her wand on the poor normal guard, she'd been heartily scared to death to have two wizards burst in with wands drawn on her and threats that she leave before they forced her out.

In her surprise at her unpleasant reception, however, Rita had managed to leave an entire case of her newest books at the guard room. Once they'd made sure she was gone, the kind wizards had called over to Shelby and invited her to come check out the books.

Lies My Cousin Told, the title read. It had a rather unflattering picture of Shelby from when she had visited home as a young adult. A small sticker on the front proclaimed "First book of its kind! With magic and Muggle editions in stores now!" Shelby and Thad each took a copy and began flipping through them. She slammed hers shut when she stumbled across a photo one of her relatives had taken of her as a child, trapped against the top beam of that blasted swing set with Rita in the background laughing.

That night, she and the motley community of wizards and normals she'd made friends with in her private neighborhood shared drinks and food around a large bonfire. Each time she or Thad tossed another copy of the book on it, a loud cheer went up. By the time she got home and went to bed, Shelby was entirely sloshed and filled with warm feelings for those who had rallied around her.

Rita tried to come back several times, especially after she learned the disturbing news that her yellow journalism piece of garbage was not the first of its kind to be published in both the magic and normal worlds. In fact, she'd been enraged to learn she was third, despite her claims to the Wizarding world.

Before they left Europe, Shelby had made sure to take two important steps. First, she connected with an old newspaper colleague turned book agent and explained to her how she had a book she was interested in publishing. It was a tricky business discussing the particulars when she had yet to finish the plan, but like her Channel 4 producer, the agent began salivating at the idea of putting out a tell-all investigative journalism piece a la All the President's Men. She agreed to pull some strings with one of her contacts in publishing to launch the story as soon as Shelby's big news came out.

Second, she set up a conversation with Franklin. They'd become close friends with him and the core members of the SSS, and Shelby didn't want to up and leave without giving them some warning of her plans. Of all their members, Franklin would have the most to gain from the opening up of the magical world to normals, so she and Thad met up with him on the tail end of a research trip to Italy and discussed how he should now be able to publish his books to a much wider audience. The man had been publishing books for decades, and he immediately set to work to get his unfiltered work put out in as many formats as possible.

Shelby's book, One Foot In, One Foot Out: My Life as a Squib, became a best-seller in the normal book lists almost as soon as it came out. It took a bit more time for it to gain traction in magical communities, especially in the UK, but she was earning some nice royalties by the end of their first year abroad.

An arrest warrant arrived in the mail during the tumult of the first discovery, issued by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was followed by a letter declaring her a free citizen under the protection of Her Majesty. Shelby burned the first one and framed the second. After learning that the South African magical community had been making in-roads to sharing their existence with sympathetic normals for at least a decade before she broke her sensational story, Shelby and Thad became friends with some of the Wizarding leaders in their area and enjoyed a mix of friends of varying backgrounds. It was refreshing after living a life of segregation and isolation for so long, keeping her two worlds separate.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The official pardon came three years later. Shelby and Thad had married and invited friends and family to come to the occasion. Her parents refused to be anywhere near her, which stung a little but not as much as it might have when she was younger. One of Thad's younger nephews came to the ceremony and told them about his older cousin, Marcus, who had made it clear he was persona non grata to the main family. It was no bother, though. They had a community here now, a home they'd purchased in that same delightful neighborhood, and more magic in their lives than they ever did growing up.

Shelby went on speaking tours to friendly places where she wasn't considered a pariah. It paid the bills and then some. She'd always wanted to travel and be part of something larger than herself, and now she was living out her dreams. She and Thad hadn't set foot in the UK since that whirlwind moment of shipping boxes and packing bags and escaping to parts unknown, and while she sometimes missed her home, she was grateful that she'd been the one to finally best her cousin, even if it did come with the result of busting the Statute of Secrecy wide open.

It was a few days after she'd arrived home that she answered the door to discover a few South African wizards standing there in official capacity. They wore tribal robes of deepest blue with a pattern embroidered on them that designated what community they were a part of. Their sashes were a shimmery gold that indicated their positions as being part of the national government.

"Yes?" She greeted them kindly.

"Ms. Turner-Flint, we apologize for the intrusion," the older one said, offering a partial bow. "We are here on behalf of our government to request humbly that you receive a delegation from Her Royal Majesty's magical government that has arrived. They've requested an audience with you, and we are here to arrange that."

Shelby was stunned. She heard Thad walk up from behind her and soaked in the comfort of his presence.

"Why would I want to come meet someone from London?" She asked, moving straight to the heart of the matter. "You well know I've denied all such delegations in the past, and as part of my protection agreements, I've been promised never to be bothered with these requests again. So why are you really here?"

The older man sighed and straightened up slightly. He looked at her with compassion but said, "I'm afraid the magical government has sent a delegation who are difficult to refuse. These are incredibly important people, and both our governments are in a delicate situation. To deny them the right to see a citizen of the UK could spark accusations that we cannot afford."

Thad's hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she relaxed slightly.

"We have been asked to assure you, however, that you are not being asked for anything more than a conversation," the younger one now spoke. "Your protection order still stands, and you will have your own contingent of guards to assure that nothing untoward happens at this meeting. Would you at least consider coming to meet the delegation?"

Thad stepped forward and asked, "Is she allowed to bring counsel?"

"Of course," the older one answered. "As is her right, she is allowed any counsel she wishes in addition to the guards, and we will meet in a specially warded room to protect from displays of magic."

She turned her back on them and stared up at her husband. They shared an entire conversation in their silence, and she knew it was finally time to discuss what she'd done with someone from her home country, from the magical world she'd left behind.

"I'll call Costas," Thad said simply.

"We've arranged a ride for you," the younger wizard said as they turned back to them. He gestured to a black sedan idling nearby. "We'll await the arrival of any counsel you invite, and the delegation has agreed to our terms."

And with that, they set out after Thad's call to her attorney. The drive over was quiet, and Shelby wondered who the UK could have sent that would have the kind of background to quell the South African government. They'd sent a number of delegates, mediators, and officers over the years, and the only time she'd been willing to meet someone was if the person was confirmed to be part of the normal government rather than the magical one.

After everyone arrived, she, Thad, and two attorneys she'd worked with before were ushered into a warded room with a small number of guards accompanying them. They walked in, and she made it to the empty side of the table before really looking at who was seated across from them.

Shelby laughed out loud.

Turning to Thad, she said, "Of course! How stupid am I? They sent war heroes!"

Indeed they had.

As she sat, one of the two present nodded to her and Thad and said, "Minister Granger thought that perhaps it was time to send someone else to attempt to open dialogue with you, Ms. Turner."

"It's actually Turner-Flint," she said off-handedly.

"Of course, Mrs. Turner-Flint," he replied. "My apologies."

"You know, in all my time visiting Diagon Alley and the Leaky, I don't think I ever saw you, Mr. Potter," she said, not unkindly. Turning to his companion, she added, "Though I did see a few of your brothers over the years, Mr. Weasley."

The two exchanged discomfited glances.

"Well," she said, clapping her hands and bringing their gazes back to her, "I suppose we should get started. Let's get this over with."

Potter cleared his throat but gamely began, "We're here to see if you would consent to a visit home to London to go over some of the finer points of your, um, news story with a group of government officials."

Shelby nodded her head as he spoke, she'd heard all this before.

"As you know, you've been pardoned for any potential criminal activity," he continued in a stronger voice, "but the Wizengamot has a number of questions they would like answers to, and you would be perfectly safe to return to England now. The Queen herself has issued you a formal welcome back and open invitation to return as well, and the Wizengamot and Ministry have no hard feelings."

"So is this a joint session of the Wizengamot and Parliament?" She asked curiously.

Weasley started, and she knew she had them.

"Uh, I'm afraid not," Potter replied, and she heard Weasley grunt in pain as the other man kicked him under the table. "The Wizengamot would like to speak with you personally about your experiences in the magical community in England, and Minister Granger agrees that it would make the most sense to hold a special session for just the magical community."

Shelby nodded again, looking for all the world totally relaxed and agreeable.

"Really, it's only right that you attend," Weasley interjected, seeming unable to help himself. "After everything you did to blow up the Statute of Secrecy, can't you do the decent thing and come back to make amends?"

"Ron!" Potter hissed, running a hand through his messy black hair in irritation.

"Well, it's true, Harry," Weasley said. "If you'll just come back for this one visit, the Wizengamot has agreed you'll never have to step foot in the Ministry of Magic again, and once they've had a chance to ask their questions and get solid answers, you'll be free to go. You can move back home, come back to Channel 4, do whatever you want."

The silence stretched out in the room as she considered.

"So the Wizengamot just has questions about how I accomplished it?" She asked.

"Yes, that's right," Weasley said in relief.

"Then I would suggest they read my books," she stated flatly. "It's all there. I don't think they would need my presence to get their answers."

He seemed to deflate a bit, but he tried again. "There's more to it," he argued. "I'm sure of it! There's simply no way Muggle tech is that good. I should know. My dad tinkered with it for years, and he still couldn't get ekletricity set up in our home! There's just no way you used simple cameras to capture those images! It isn't possible!"

"Ron, stop it," Potter ordered, and the redhead subsided.

Shelby shifted her gaze to the best-known war hero and asked her next question. "Is my cousin still publishing her books?"

Potter swallowed hard, his eyes dark with some dangerous emotion.

"You, of all people, should know that while Rita Skeeter is allowed to publish her yellow journalism and trash books that haven't a shred of truth in them, I will never step foot back in England," she told him sternly.

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I know what she did to your and your friends, Mr. Potter," she said, not unkindly. "But unless you lived it–and unless you were willing to actually read my books–you cannot know the pain that woman inflicted on me. No amount of discussion with magical counsel has resulted in anyone willing to go after her for her lies, slander, and defamation. So I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, the answer is and will remain no."

She stood up, leaving Potter sitting there with a grudging look of respect on his face while Weasley was red in the face with anger.

"I think we're done here," she said, holding her hand out to Thad.

Together they walked out of the room without protest from the two delegates behind them.

They went back to their home, and Shelby walked into the beautiful sitting room with its bookshelves and telly and cozy chairs. She'd made a life here. She had friends here and a thriving career. Thad, her rock and ever-present supporter, was working for his old firm in London as the vice-president of their remote operations, and he had managed to continue pursuing his interests.

There really and truly was nothing she wanted back in London.

"I'm still glad I did it," she whispered as Thad came up behind her, nuzzling the back of her neck and kissing behind her ear. She still shivered from the contact all these years later.

"I know," he told her softly.

And that was how Shelby Turner-Flint busted the Statute of Secrecy and an entire magical world wide open.

The End

Author's Note: Well, if you finished reading this, I want to thank you for sticking with me! I realize some things are not completely accurate for my British audience, and I apologize for that as I'm an American author. Of course, it's never going to jive with what everyone thinks about how Muggle technology interacts with magic, but I had fun writing it. Feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you thought. Thanks for reading!