It was a cool and chilly Friday morning as Rita Skeeter strolled through the Leaky Cauldron. She waved a hello to Tom as he was tending several patrons, which he returned with a toothy grin. The pub wasn't very full that day, but a few of the wizards and witches she passed did a double take when they recognised her, pointing her out to their friends or spouses, and she reveled in the attention.

Just a few months ago, when people saw her, there were those who believed everything she wrote in the Prophet or Witch Weekly, but there was always an underlying current of scorn from others. Now though, they liked her, even respected her. It helped that she published a retraction on many of her old articles after her story on Barty Crouch Jr., citing embellished details or falsified facts. What she hadn't expected was the public backing her in support when Fudge tried to get her removed from the Prophet in the aftermath of her Crouch Jr. article, and not for the first time. Tonks had simply advised her several days ago, on behalf of the Order, that it would give her a better standing among the public, and make her current articles more believable, which was perfectly fair.

The Order of the Phoenix, she thought wryly. An underground group of Dumbledore's founding, fancying themselves taking down You-Know-Who single-handedly. And they could be quite serious about stopping him too. Still, they were the only ones offering any resistance, and as much as she thought the Ministry were full of fools, she didn't want to be under the boot of a Death Eater regime. So, she agreed to help the Order, and if she got a thrill from the subterfuge and power plays, well, that was for her to know.

And to think, it all started because a teenage girl trapped her under a jar. Rita had to admit, while she knew the Granger girl was determined, she never expected her to be so, well, thorough, in taking her down. Merlin knows plenty have tried, Granger and Potter weren't the first people she stepped on for a story, but she was the only one who figured out her secret. Rita would never say it, but she was begrudgingly impressed. And thanks to Granger, in part anyway, her popularity and reputation were higher than it had ever been.

Now, according to Tonks, her latest target was Dolores Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister, and new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It was, quite frankly, a thinly veiled attempt at removing the little remaining power Dumbledore had. The problem was, of course, figuring out how to corner her. Umbridge had always been slippery, she hadn't gotten to her position by working hard and playing nice, unless blackmailing people with a smile counted. But Rita was slippery too, the trick was finding the right opportunity.

If she was going to get any information off of the woman, she would need to infiltrate Hogwarts to get into her office, though if she asked, Dumbledore might just let her in through the gates this time. Getting into her Ministry office wasn't an option, there was too much security around the place, she never risked using her Animagus form there. She had to hope that Umbridge let something slip in private, and if she would be at Hogwarts for the better part of the year, there really was no better time to catch her.

Rita tapped her wand on the brick wall to open the archway, and swiftly walked through, her heels making a rapid staccato on the cobblestone. Storefronts were bustling with people getting a start to their day, and the air was abuzz with magic, giving the cool air that morning a brisk feeling. As she was making her way to the Daily Prophet offices, several people recognised her, and tried to get her attention. She put on her best dazzling smile, and waved genially to the small crowd of people forming.

"Ms. Skeeter, over here!"

"Oh, Ms. Skeeter, may I have a moment of your time?"

Rita was trying to get past the people around her, thanking them for their support, and she was so focused on the crowd, she didn't hear the pop of apparation.

"Ms. Skeeter, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said a man from behind her. She turned her head, about to politely tell him the same, when her words died on her lips.

The man who had addressed her pulled down his hood, and looked strikingly similar to Sirius Black; he had the same long, matted hair, the same gaunt face, but his features were just, off, and the only thing that dimly registered in her mind was that he was supposed to be in a safe house. Then he raised his wand, and she felt a lurch in her stomach, before pushing the woman behind her to the ground as he sent a curse at her.

The crowd screamed as they recognised the man, and Rita scrambled to her feet, looking for a way out. Being an animagus for so long, she had gotten good at quickly scouting places to hide and be discreet. But now, she had to act. She kicked off her heels so she could run, and flicked her wand to create a thick cover of smoke behind her. Clumps of people were running every which way, and she did her best to weave between them as the man sent a barrage of curses at her. Several hit the passerby, and she felt an icy terror at their cries of pain. Rita managed to run into a narrow alleyway between two storefronts, covered by shadow, and immediately transformed into a water beetle before anyone could see.

As soon as she transformed, Rita flew high above the street to observe the man attacking her, and saw him randomly attacking passerby as he walked towards the alleyway she ran into. She knew she should be alerting the Order, but she was hoping to hear some information from him, and landed on the brick wall to listen.

"Where are you, Rita," he said coldly. "You've been causing many problems for us, you know. Come out, and I promise I'll bring you in alive," he cast lumos to dispel the darkness, and snarled when no one was there. "Homenum Revelio," Rita flew out before he could finish the spell, and immediately fled Diagon Alley. There were a number of pops in the street as Aurors and Hit wizards apparated in, and she didn't transform back until she was out of the Leaky Cauldron, her heart pounding painfully against her chest.

Rita had to transfigure a new pair of shoes out of the trash in an old bin, and after walking down a deserted street, she apparated to her meeting spot with Tonks - a muggle cafe that saw little activity, and was well away from any wizarding establishments. She sent a quick memo, mentally thanking the Order for giving her a way to quickly contact them, and wearily walked inside to wait for the young Auror.

After the waitress took her order for a coffee, she tried to relax, but was still too shaken, as her nails quickly rapped against the table. That man was there to capture or kill her, and had to have been a Death Eater impersonating Sirius Black. She could already feel a headache coming on, and gratefully thanked the waitress when she appeared with a pot of black coffee.

Less than ten minutes later, Tonks bustled in, holding herself tensely and alert, but she looked relieved when she spotted Rita, apparently unharmed.

"What the hell happened? Shacklebolt got an emergency floo call saying that Sirius was attacking civilians," she hissed when she sat across from her.

Rita shook her head. "It looked like him, but his facial features were wrong. I think they just used human transfiguration, and I'm sure they were a Death Eater," she said in an undertone, before taking a deep swig of her coffee. Tonks swore under her breath, and put on a polite smile when the waitress came back, quickly telling the woman she was fine.

"Was anyone seriously injured?" Rita asked, not able to get their cries out of her head.

Tonks shook her head. "I stayed back long enough for Kingsley to return to the office, he told me whoever was there apparated right before they arrived, but there were no casualties," Rita felt the tension in her shoulders release a little. "The people who were hit with curses were taken to St. Mungos just in case, but they should be okay." She nodded. "Did the man say why he was there?"

"He said I was causing 'them' problems, when I was in my form. I don't think he was there to kill me, at least on sight. He said he'd capture me if I gave up, and he didn't try to use deadly spells as soon as he saw me."

"So they wanted information," Tonks surmised.

"What happens now?" she asked, feeling worn out.

She stared at her for a moment, "I'll be taking you to a safehouse. It's one of the Order's, and you'll stay there for the time being."

"And our arrangement?" Tonks shook her head.

"We're not going to put your life at risk, you can work on your articles in the meantime if you want, but you won't be going into the office. A couple witnesses said he mentioned you by name, so that may be enough to get you a protection detail, but we want things to settle down a bit." Rita threw back the rest of her coffee.

"I suppose we should get going then?" She asked tiredly. Tonks smiled apologetically, and threw some muggle money on the table, gesturing to her to follow. They walked down an alleyway full of dumpsters so no one could see, and Tonks apparated them away.

The two of them found themselves in front of a single story house surrounded with numerous magical plants mostly used for potion brewing, like Moly's, Wormwood, and Shrivelfigs.

"This is Hestia Jones' house," Tonks explained, "she agreed to take you in at short notice, but she's at the Ministry right now, working. I asked her after I got your memo."

"That was fast," Rita said in surprise.

"Well, we couldn't wait around, could we?" Tonks unlocked the door, "let's go inside." Rita followed her in, and listened to Tonks telling her where everything was in the house. When she was done, she bid Rita a quick goodbye so she could return to her office.

After Tonks left, Rita explored the house some more, Hesita didn't have much in the way of decoration, and most of her pictures seemed to be from her childhood. The house was clean and simple, but nice.

She soon felt restless, not having anything to do, and hoped that the Order would bring over some of her things from her flat later. As she was settling down in the sitting room to read one of Jones' books, there was a knock at the door, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Rita cautiously approached the door, with her wand in hand. She didn't think it was Jones this early, so she hoped it was one of the Order who just decided to drop by on a whim. She swung the door open, and nearly cast a rather nasty jinx that caused boils in the mouth when it turned out to be Sirius Black, standing on the doorstep, with his hands raised in a placating gesture. Behind him, an old looking house elf disapparated with a crack.

"So, I hear I attacked you earlier today," said Black. She let out a surprised laugh.

"Yes, what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, "I figured I would bend the limits of my house arrest a little, I'm still in a safe house, so I think I'm okay. Mind if I come in?"

"Yes, yes," said Rita, "we can't have you standing out on the doormat for all to see." Black followed her into the sitting room, and took the armchair across from her.

"What happened?" he asked intently. She told him everything, from entering Diagon Alley to meeting up with Tonks, by the time she was finished, he looked thoughtful.

"This might end up backfiring on both the Death Eaters, and Fudge," he said.

Rita leaned forward in her seat, "how so?"

"Well, the Death Eaters know they have to act somehow, in regards to the Prophet. Doing nothing is a non-starter, the DMLE is damn near coming down on Fudge already thanks to you, which would mean Voldemort's return could be publicised sooner," Rita flinched, but he didn't pay her any mind. "On the other hand, if they kill you outright, that might just be further proof he's back.

"And I have no doubt that Fudge is going to be treating this as an isolated incident with the press, he's still doubling down on his claims that Voldemort isn't back after all, but I don't think that'll play very well with the public. I'm supposed to be Voldemort's most fanatic supporter, aren't I? If I attacked you, couldn't it still be seen as though I'm trying to silence you?"

Rita nodded along as she followed his logic, flinching every time he used You-Know-Who's name, "they were stuck in a rut, and had to do something sooner or later."

"Exactly, this was their decent option out of three bad ones. Because even if this helps sow more doubt with Fudge, it's going to cause a lot of confusion. Mark my words, the next few weeks are going to be messy."

Rita's lips quirked into a smile, and got an idea that helped calm her frayed nerves. "Then why don't we make it even messier?"

"What did you have in mind?"

She pulled out a spare quill and parchment she always kept in her bag. "Tell me your story, and I mean everything. Your friendship with the Potters, becoming their Secret Keeper, Pettigrew's betrayal, your imprisonment and escape of Azkaban, meeting Harry for the first time since he was a baby. If the Death Eaters and Fudge are trying to use you as a scapegoat, let's pull that rug out from under them."

Black grinned, but he looked doubtful, "aren't you supposed to be laying low?"

"Aren't you?" Rita shot back. "Tonks mentioned something about a protection detail, besides, I can always have one of you deliver it for me," she said airily. "So, what do you say?"

"It's a long story," he warned, but he didn't go anywhere, and she just raised her eyebrow. This was her element, and after everything that happened earlier, she needed something familiar to hold on to.

"And I've got all the time in the world dear, do you want your innocence or not?" she asked, sinking into the sofa. Black let out a sharp laugh, and Rita knew she was about to get a story of a lifetime.

Harry rocketed through the air on his firebolt, pushing his skills as a flyer to its limits. Angelina for her part, was pleased at his flying today, as she had made it clear she would be pushing the entire team hard now that practises started back up. This was her one chance she got to be Captain since Quidditch was cancelled in favour of the Triwizard tournament last year, and she was determined to make it count.

But as for him, he was just trying to run off his anger. Sirius had called him on the mirror shortly before supper, telling him, Hermione, and Ron, that he had been with Rita Skeeter after she was attacked by a Death Eater impersonating him. Now Skeeter was unlikely to be publishing stories anytime soon, and Fudge was going to be vilifying his godfather in front of the public even more than he already had. It made him so furious that Hermione dragged him off to the grounds so he could calm down. Once he was sure he wouldn't be scowling at everyone for no apparent reason, the pair made it back to the great hall for supper, pretending everything was fine.

All he wanted was for Sirius to get his innocence somehow, so he could stop being a prisoner in his own home, and so Harry wouldn't be worried sick that someday he was going to wake up and find out that he had his soul sucked out by a dementor. The enormity and unfairness of it all made him want to scream.

And that was why he was currently flying at breakneck speeds, and had already caught the Snitch three times in the last eleven minutes since Angelina started practise. He was working up to his fourth, while the rest of the team were going through their drills, and Hermione and the first years were watching from the stands.

"Good work Harry!" Angelina called out as he flew past her, "that's the kind of energy I want to see when we face the Slytherins!"

He wasn't sure if he could pull that off again, but maybe he would, just to see Malfoy's face. It'd be fun to break his own record from when he beat the Hufflepuffs in less than five minutes. But then he glanced up at the stand to look at Hermione, and she was standing at the railings, looking stressed out. He felt sheepish as a twinge of guilt passed through him, and took it a bit more easily, not taking such steep, low dives, or streaking past the others as closely. He still rose high in the air though, just to feel the wind whistling through his ears, it was his favourite sound when he was flying, and made everything so much more exhilarating.

Fred and George, meanwhile, were working on their new Beater strategy, and were practicing with the Chasers, who would try to maintain their formations and keep the Quaffle, while the twins would do their best to break them apart. And when the Chasers managed to get the Quaffle to the goalposts, Ron would try to block it.

He was doing a good job most of the time, but whenever the Chasers tried a particularly hard throw, or he fumbled in any way because of a feint or awkward catch, it was hard for Ron to stay focused, and his performance suffered. Everyone on the team, including Harry when he wasn't going after the Snitch, was trying to help him get over that.

Unfortunately, he was holding very high standards for himself, and was frustrated when he couldn't meet them. And since Angelina was promising a tough season, and wanted everyone to bring their best to the pitch, it just compounded Ron's expectations on himself. It didn't help how Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team showed up during their first official practise, making Ron lose most of his confidence. So Harry and the twins decided they would work with Ron solo on the weekends, just to help him without the rest of the team being overbearing. They hoped it would be enough when they faced the rest of the school.

"Alright, team!" Angelina called out to them from the goalposts where Ron was, she waited until all of them had flown around her, "we're all going to be playing Chaser for Ron, Harry, you can leave the Snitch be for now, Fred and George, you can leave your bats. The three of you will try to keep the Quaffle from us, and we'll both try to score at this goalpost, sound good?" Harry nodded, while the twins flew to the ground to leave their bats behind. When they were back in the air, Angelina tossed the Quaffle to him, "let's get started," she said with a fierce grin. Harry readied himself, feeling a sense of foreboding.

His feelings were soon proven right, because as soon as Harry flew down the pitch, with Fred and George following close behind, the three Chasers quickly out-maneuvered them to take the Quaffle, and it wasn't long before they began gaining a commanding lead.

"Bloody hell, Alicia!" George shouted several minutes later when she flew between him and Harry to snatch the Quaffle he tossed. Harry only heard her laugh become distant, as she threw the Quaffle to Katie, who practically flipped around, and began streaking towards the goalposts.

Harry tried to use his firebolt's acceleration to catch up to her, but the three Chasers were prepared for that strategy, having long gotten used to playing against the Slytherin's Nimbus 2001s. The Quaffle was being passed between them so quickly in a tangle of formations that he had trouble keeping up.

So changing tactics, he let the twins catch up to him, and tried to fly through their formations, while the twins would pinch them to take the Quaffle. The strategy had allowed them to take it from them a couple times. But they were starting to learn from it, as Harry saw when Alicia blocked him from Angelina's view, and the two Chasers quickly sped towards the goalpost.

Ron, who was closely watching them, did manage to block the Quaffle from going through, but he didn't manage to catch it, and Harry used the opportunity to steal it back. He passed it to Fred, who passed it to George, and the three of them shot up to the goalposts, where they had to contend with the other four players trying to block them. Harry flew through their formations again to clear a path, and George made the shot, which Ron managed to catch, but not before it hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. George whooped when he was able to at least make the shot, and he high fived Fred and Harry, to their amusement.

For the next hour, the six of them played Chaser, and by the end, Harry and the twins managed barely a dozen shots, while Angelina, Alicia, and Katie made more than thirty. Ron, for his part, blocked more than half of them, including a few tricky shots that Angelina complimented him for. She was pleased with their performance, and called an end to practise for the day.

While some of the team stayed back on the pitch, and a couple of them went to the showers, Harry flew to the stands where Hermione and the first years were watching.

"Did you have to fly so fast, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Sorry, I needed to do something to let off the steam," said Harry, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Can you teach us to fly like that?" Terrance asked. Caroline nodded eagerly beside him.

Hermione whirled around. "No, you are not going to learn how to fly like a couple of daredevils," she said firmly, and Harry had to stifle a laugh.

"That's a very flattering description, Hermione," he said, grinning. Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink, which made his slowing heart-rate briefly pick up again, and he turned to the two first years a little disoriented. "I can teach you the basics, but I think I'd have to ask Madam Hooch first," Terrance and Caroline cheered, while Hermione just let out an exasperated sigh.

"Come on, we need to get you all back to the tower. Meet you at the entrance hall?" she asked, turning back to him.

"Yup, I'll have my cloak," said Harry. He and Hermione decided they would make it to the kitchens tonight before curfew to talk to the elves about DREAM, now that they had some time to spare after completing most of their first week assignments. She nodded, and led the small group down the stairs, while he flew back to the lockers.

Since he started helping Elaine with transfiguration, which included some tutoring when he had a free period, the other first years were starting to go to him for questions. And while students in the other houses took a distrustful attitude with him on their best days, the Gryffindors were slowly becoming neutral at least. And he wasn't getting as many weird looks in the common room, which he was thankful for as they were starting to drive him up the wall.

Harry made quick work in the showers before he made his way to the entrance hall, where Hermione was waiting. She greeted him with a wide smile, and they disappeared down a hidden passageway so he could throw the invisibility cloak over them.

Ron knew they were going to be talking to the elves tonight, but he had elected to ignore Hermione whenever the subject came up. While Ron was on board with the defense group, and was making more of an effort in studying, with Harry doing it alongside him in solidarity, the topic of elf rights turned off all conversation. He knew Hermione disliked it, but as long as Ron was uncomfortable about it, she couldn't do much.

Now though, the two of them were huddled up closely under the cloak, looking at the Marauder's map to avoid being caught. When they got to the portrait of the silver fruit bowl, Hermione was the one to scratch the pear to let them in, and they were greeted with a bustling kitchen full of house elves calling out orders in squeaky voices as they were cleaning up after supper.

Some of the elves looked up from their work when they walked in, and a few ran up to them with a bow.

"Hello miss and misters, is there anything Wooky can gets you?" Wooky and several other elves were crowded around them, and Hermione looked about ready to turn them down when they heard a loud voice over the din of the elves.

"Harry Potter! Oh Harry Potter has come to visit, is there anything Dobby can do for you?"

Harry grinned as Dobby crashed into his legs with a tight hug, which made the surrounding elves look a little scandalised.

"Hey Dobby, Hermione and I wanted to talk to you, all of you, actually."

A couple of the elves looked at Hermione warily, "Is this abouts making us take wages, because we do nots want it," said one of the elves firmly. Hermione's mouth was set in a thin line, and she crouched down on her knees to be level with them.

"I'm not here to talk to you about wages," said Hermione carefully, and some of them looked surprised at that, "but I would like to talk to you about a charter Harry and I wrote," she said, pulling the rolled up parchment from her bag.

She handed it to Wooky, who unfurled the parchment, and read it with a good half dozen other elves including Dobby reading over his shoulder.

"We don't understands," Wooky said. "We elves are treated very well here." Several of the elves nodded fervently.

"And a good elf does what they are told," another said, there was more murmuring among them, and Harry rested on his knees next to Hermione.

"But not all elves are treated well, are they?" he asked, looking at Dobby. The elf in question read the clause again, and gave him a wobbly smile.

"And maybe you're treated well now," Hermione interjected, "but will that always be the case? What about professors who could hurt you because they can?" Harry had no doubt she was thinking about Umbridge, and he wouldn't put it past her. The elves looked between themselves, in uncertainty.

"This is really just an experiment," said Harry, "to see if something like this works for you, and if it'll help. What's your name?" he asked, getting a sudden idea, and pointing to an elf standing next to Dobby.

"Fodkey, sir!" the elf said, puffing out his little chest.

"And what do you enjoy doing, Fodkey?" Harry asked.

"Fodkey doesn't understand," the elf said, tilting his head.

"Well, do you like cleaning the common rooms, or working in the kitchens, maybe maintaining the torches and fireplaces?"

"Fodkey likes to bake," he said with a firm nod.

"But do you get to bake very often, or are you given other jobs?"

"Fodkey does as he's told," said the elf stubbornly.

"But why can't you decide to bake more often in your duties, if that's what you enjoy?" he looked taken aback, and the other elves looked deep in thought too. More of the elves cleaning the kitchens had gathered around them while they were talking, and there were a few dozen crowded around them now.

"If you liked cooking, or baking, or helping the professors, why can't you choose to do that more? You're still performing your duties after all, you just have more say in the matter," said Hermione, finishing for him. Some of the elves looked thoughtful, but most of them still looked unconvinced. He looked at Hermione, who stood back up, and he followed suit.

"We just want to make sure all elves are treated well," she said. "That's all we want to do. You can keep that too if you'd like to look at it, it's just a copy." Wooky nodded, rolling it back up.

"Is there anything we can get yous?" he asked. Most of the elves went back to cleaning the kitchen, but the few that stayed behind, including Dobby, looked ready to do something, so he looked at Hermione, who gave a little shrug.

"Do you have some leftover Treacle tart?" he asked. The elves beamed, and in moments, gave him a small wrapped package full of Treacle tart. They thanked the elves, and left the kitchens after checking the map to see if the coast was clear.

When they were back under the cloak, he turned to her. "Did that go the way you expected it?"

She smiled sadly, "a part of me hoped that they would've liked the document more, but I can't say I'm surprised," she took his hand. "Thank you, for being there. I think what you said helped get through to them at least a little."

"You're welcome, next time you want to visit the kitchens, I'll come along."

The pair walked in companionable silence on the way to Gryffindor tower, while Hermione looked deep in thought. And before they turned the corner to the Fat Lady, Hermione surprised him by kissing him on the cheek.

"Really, Harry, I appreciate it," she said, giving him a small smile. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, followed immediately by a wave of panic that crashed into him. He liked his best friend, a lot. And it was like a light finally went off in his head after someone was flipping the switch incessantly. And with that realisation, he followed her in a sort of daze into the common room while she took a seat near the back to do some light reading, having no idea where to go from there.