Even during the class earlier today, Rita Skeeter, quietly perched among the leaves as a beetle, had noticed that the Harry Potter before her didn't match the boy she remembered.
If time could be rewound, Rita would swear on her grandmother's name that she would have slipped away from Hogwarts the moment the lesson ended, without a second thought. Instead, driven by her insatiable curiosity, she followed Harry into this peculiar building.
The Boy Who Lived secretly studying soul magic, a Hogwarts professor challenging the Statute of Secrecy, sharing magic with Muggle shamans… Today, Rita had stumbled upon enough secrets to shake the entire British wizarding world—no, the entire international wizarding community! Yet why wasn't she satisfied?
Why couldn't she rein in her restless curiosity?
Now, Rita's insides churned with regret.
Why, just minutes ago, had she been so curious about what secrets the Boy Who Lived might share with that half-giant after a few drinks?
She should've been at home by now, seated at her desk, warmed by a cozy fire, scribbling her favorite articles with her favorite quill. She'd even thought of the perfect headline: Harry Potter: His Life and Lies.
She would've exposed the boy's facade of innocence, kindness, and purity, revealing his sinister ambitions and dark magic. Sure, this revelation would come earlier than her planned dramatic twist, but Potter had already made his move public, hadn't he?
News is only news if it breaks first, seizing everyone's attention and devouring the spotlight. Late news? It's worth less than nothing.
She was still the journalist bold enough to speak the truth. Fame and Galleons would flood her way. All her previous stories about Harry Potter would become the stones to crush him completely. Rita Skeeter, uncovering the truth despite personal ties, bravely exposing the wicked plans of an evil boy and an evil old man—that's how it was supposed to be!
So why had she let her curiosity get the better of her?
Now, she was caught. The boy had her biggest secret in his grasp. He'd surely silence her, just like the Ministry would, preventing her from publishing anything that could harm him. Worse, he might be more ruthless than the Ministry, forcing her to fabricate lies for him… Her big scoop… her precious scoop…
In despair, Rita clutched at her hair, yanking out clumps with such force that she looked withered and sallow.
"Miss Skeeter? Rita? Rita Skeeter?" Seeing her lost in her own world, Harry called out several times to no avail. With no other choice, he sent a jolt of electricity through the overly imaginative reporter.
A flash of blue lightning crackled, and a wisp of smoke curled from Rita's head. She finally snapped out of the shock Harry had dealt her.
"…Thank you," she managed, lowering her head and clenching her fists, forcing out a strained laugh. "So, what do you want me to do?"
This wretched boy!
He didn't hesitate to zap her with magic!
Gone was the confidence she'd shown during her past interviews with Harry. Rita knew all too well the saying: when under another's roof, you bow your head.
"You're an unregistered Animagus," Harry said again. "As far as I know, your name isn't among the seven registered Animagi this century. If the Ministry catches you, they'll make an example of you—likely locking you in Azkaban's high-security wing."
"I've been there," Harry continued, not waiting for her response. "Honestly, it's no place for a human. Even as punishment for criminals, it's excessive. Filthy conditions, unclean water, near-rotten bread… and they don't even give you enough to fill your stomach. Then there are the Dementors, patrolling daily, draining every last drop of joy from you, leaving you in agony, living in torment every single day."
"Enough!" Rita shouted, her emotions boiling over. "Stop it! You think you're any better, Potter? You're a lawbreaker too, aren't you? Studying soul magic—there's no way that's anything good. You're even more evil than I am! I just write articles, but you—you're a monster! You're planning to break the Statute of Secrecy! Every Ministry in the world will come for you! You'll end up in Azkaban too, just like me!"
Crackle!
Without a moment's pause, Harry sent another calming jolt through the hysterical Rita.
It worked like a charm.
Rita froze, paralyzed, trembling uncontrollably.
That venomous little brat!
In her heart, Rita wanted nothing more than to tear the boy apart. She kept her head bowed to hide the malice in her eyes.
"You're mistaken about one thing, Rita," Harry said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not like you. My power far surpasses yours."
Rita's head snapped up, her pupils shrinking in shock. That kind of declaration didn't sound good at all. What kind of righteous person spoke of power like that?
The last time she'd heard such words was twelve years ago, when Voldemort was still alive, or from the mouths of pure-blood elitists… But now, why was it coming from Harry Potter?
"I've wanted to teach you a lesson for a long time, Rita Skeeter," Harry said calmly. "For the lies you've spread in your papers, for slandering Dumbledore, for defaming me and my parents."
"Heroes fought with everything they had, some even gave their lives, and yet fools like you, living in the peace they secured, attack them and tarnish their honor. Liars like you deserve to die, without even a gravestone, forgotten by all."
"I've wanted to make you understand this for years, but Dumbledore stopped me. He warned me to use my power carefully—a truly respectable man, wouldn't you agree?"
"…Yes, yes," Rita hurriedly forced a fawning smile. Suddenly, she knew how to handle Harry.
She'd use the same approach she'd used with Voldemort.
And then she was zapped again.
"Aaaahhh!"
After a piercing scream, a burnt smell wafted from Rita, and a foul liquid seeped from beneath her, stinking up the room. With a snap of Harry's fingers, it vanished.
"You think I'm Voldemort?" Harry sneered. "Who do you take me for?"
Slumped on the floor, Rita barely had the strength to speak.
For someone like her, used to a pampered life, even Harry's light hand was too much to bear.
"I respect Dumbledore for his character and his contributions to this world. That's why I won't break my agreement with him or let us become enemies," Harry said, staring coldly at Rita's pathetic state. "You should be grateful. In the past, I had only one way of dealing with trash like you."
Death.
But in this world, there was no need to say it aloud.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I beg your forgiveness…"
Regaining just enough strength to move, Rita crawled forward, intending to kiss the hem of Harry's robe. But recalling his earlier words—not to mistake him for Voldemort—she stopped, kneeling tremblingly and pleading repeatedly.
Her body still shook. The pain was excruciating, like being burned alive, consuming her nerves, every muscle, every inch of skin, every organ trembling. Rita never wanted to endure that agony again.
She was terrified—terrified that Harry might not let her leave this room. No one knew Rita Skeeter had come to Hogwarts. No one would know if Harry crushed a beetle… An unregistered Animagus killed in animal form? No one would be held accountable. After all, who would know?
Harry hadn't finished his threat, but Rita's mind filled in the blanks, intensifying her fear. This boy—no, this man—was serious. He hadn't held back while torturing her.
If Voldemort used the Cruciatus Curse, then Harry Potter used lightning—damn it, that wasn't even dark magic!
He didn't hesitate to torment a living person!
"You can still understand human speech, can't you?" Harry said, smiling at her pitiful state. "You brought this on yourself, provoking me repeatedly, embarrassing my apprentice, and trying to pry into my secrets. Even Dumbledore couldn't object to punishing someone like you."
"I was wrong. I repent. I'm sorry to Dumbledore, to you, to your parents, to all the heroes who sacrificed," Rita said, banging her head on the floor as she groveled. "I've changed. Please, give me a chance. I won't speak ill of you, Dumbledore, or anyone else. I won't make up lies anymore."
"Oh, and everything that happened today—I'll keep my mouth shut. The Ministry will never know!" Her frazzled mind sparked with an idea. "The soul magic, your plan to break the Statute of Secrecy—I swear it won't appear in the Daily Prophet. It won't cause a stir! I'll debunk it! I'll tell everyone it's impossible, that it doesn't exist—Aaaahhh!"
A web of blue lightning enveloped Rita, making her tremble violently as she screamed. The stench of burning and filth filled the air. She collapsed, looking like a corpse.
"…I beg you…" Rita's weak voice rose from the floor. She reached out to touch Harry's robe but stopped, too afraid.
She was truly terrified, down to her bones. This was Hogwarts, and this maniac was torturing her without restraint. Where was Dumbledore? Why wasn't he stopping this?
"You didn't listen to my warning, Rita," Harry said, looking at the pathetic creature with disgust. "I told you I despise your lies and the way you smear others with your words. Yet you dare try to twist the truth in front of me again?"
"I—I just wanted to help you, to offer my strength," Rita stammered, barely holding back her panic.
What did he mean?
She couldn't even stand behind him to smear his enemies or cover up his scandals?
Not even Voldemort was like this!
"I understand," Rita said, not daring to gamble on whether Harry might kill her. By now, she had no doubt this man, who'd tortured her without hesitation, had the courage to kill. Driven by survival instinct, she forced herself through the pain to grovel again. "I'll tell the truth—the real truth."
"From today on, every report Rita Skeeter writes will be honest, with no fabrications or lies… Please, I beg you…"
She meant it. Truly.
"Good," Harry said, finally showing a satisfied smile. "Even a despicable wretch like you can understand and do the right thing… Ha, I wonder what Dumbledore will think when he sees your change of heart."
"If I'd followed his approach and ignored you, letting you distort history and tarnish heroes' honor, how could you ever turn back?" Harry said mockingly. "For vermin like you, a broken bone is the best lesson."
"I won't allow heroes to bleed and weep," Harry said, locking eyes with Rita. "Even Dumbledore—especially Dumbledore—has endured more pain than most could bear. They're weary enough. They don't need trash like you stabbing them in the heart. Do you understand?"
"…Yes, Master."
Kneeling on the floor, Rita's voice rasped as she spoke.
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