“I still can't believe she did it,” Hermione said to one of her oldest friends, eyes not leaving the other minister as he addressed the nation. She stood in the shadows, like so many had before her, striving to serve and protect her community.

“We don't think it was her idea. Pinkstone advocated for muggles to know for a long time, but violence? She never used it, not a bit. If not for the body, we wouldn't have even investigated her,” Harry answered, just as stunned and pained as his friend.

“Find out who then. We can't have whoever is responsible out there doing heavens knows what.”

“Yes ma'am,” Harry said with almost a chuckle. “Sure you couldn't have delayed this any longer?”

“I tried, barely managed to keep them in line up till now. What do we do? Obliviate the Prime Minister, then all his predecessors? How many more? And as we do they'll get more and more paranoid. At least we managed to push it till all the students were safely ensconced, that's something.”

It had been an exhausting few weeks for the Minister of Magic, fires everywhere that needed putting out at a breakneck pace. Numerous cases of witches and wizards being harassed by media or curious muggles looking for the truth, over a dozen places where fights had broken out do to it. The international magical community was furious too, just as eager for answers as anyone else, demanding them, how, why, and who.

Through all that panic everyone had been working overtime, getting safe-houses put together should things go truly wrong, helping families put defensive charms they'd never needed before on their homes, trying to cover up everything as well as possible in the days that led up to this event alone.

At the very least the event wasn't completely unexpected. For years there'd been speculation that eventually the muggles would find out. Most had discounted it, believing that non-magical folk would never realize what was under their very noses, but others had known better. Muggle-borns like Hermione, and those interested in their workings like the elderly Mr. Weasley had understood that with the drastic increase in cameras and their quick distribution that one day it would leak. Plans had been in place, arrangements made, and carried at least a bit of the weight for the past weeks.

As the Prime Minister finished is speech Hermione stepped from the shadowed recesses and out into the light, before the cameras and reporters, broadcast all over the nation. The same was happening simultaneously all over the world, dozens of officials from dozens of Ministries moving to speak at once.

“Good evening everyone, my name is Hermione Granger, and I'm Britain's Minister of Magic. Now I'm sure you all have questions, but let us begin with the largest. The cause of the tragedy at Charing Cross road is still under investigation, it was not, as some individuals have suggested any sort of concerted attack by our people upon yours.”

“Excuse me, excuse me, why have you all taken to hiding yourselves like this?” a reporter asked into the small break, a welcome one.

“Surely a quick look at your own history books will answer that question? For a long time, a very long time your people hunted and attacked witches and wizards en masse. For the record, most of those killed weren't actually magic at all, but some were. A lot of innocents died, and we came to the conclusion that the best answer was for us to simply not be seen or noticed. Internationally we agreed and acted.” That was one of the easier questions, one she'd hoped would be brought up.

“Are witches and wizards evil?” someone else brought up.

“We're people, just like anyone else. There are and have been bad apples, and much like you have criminals so do we. They're treated much the same as yours are, with serious actions baring serious consequences. Most just want to be left alone to live their lives,” she answered with the easy words of a practiced politician.

“Can anyone learn magic?” another inquired, a question Hermione had been expecting, and not one she looked forwards to.

“Unfortunately no, magic is passed down through families. There are a few, like myself, who do not come from wizarding families, but the majority do.”

The questions went on and on. Many wanted to know specifics that they were just not going to be given right now. One of the bigger sticking points was the alterations of memories, and it was understandable. People in general feared having their minds messed with, even if it had only been done to preserve the peace, and many were up in arms about it.

The next morning every paper all over the country had a front page story on it, headlines both in alarm and interest and article after article.

Before the sun even rose the next morning Stanley Stenson was up and about, for the iron was hot and everyone who was anyone in his line of business was eager to strike. All the higher ups of his channel were thrilled, absolutely over the moon that they'd managed to get an interview with an honest to goodness wizard literally the morning after the announcement. Everyone also remembered how that had been pulled off, and while he would rather be behind a camera than in front of it he was getting recognized, and not just by his people.

“I see you'll be joining us today then? But not as the interviewer? Why not?” came a slightly familiar voice.

Stanley turned to see Mr. Brocklehurst there behind him, looking him up and down. The man was clearly a bit out of sorts, clothed in robes rather than the smart suit the Minister had on last night. Briefly he wondered why that was, but there was a question to answer first.

“Personally sir I find myself better suited to work behind the scenes. I get nervous on camera you see.”

“Truth be told I'm a bit nervous myself. Everyone's worried, worried about what will come of all this. Personally I'd rather it had come to someone else, but it didn't, it's my duty and I'll see it through.” He stared off a bit as he spoke, resting his hand lightly on the wand at his side. “Reminds me almost of the war.”

“War? There was a war?” Stanley asked, eager to hear the stories this man had.

“Oh? Yes, yes, bad times, very bad times.” It was clear the man didn't want to speak on it more, but it was also clear that something had happened. Stanley let it go, for now, but filed away the question for later, something to ask about.

Before he could find some way to change the subject one of the producers appeared.

“There you are sir, we've been looking everywhere for you,” she said, looking a bit nervous.

“Oh no worries, no worries, just talking to my young friend here.” The wizard said, going after her. “See you about Stanley.”