The denial from those meant to be protected is the greatest torment for a hero, capable of extinguishing even the flickering candlelight struggling in the darkness.
All for such a laughable reason.
"I've told you, don't compare me to trash like Voldemort," Harry sneered. "I don't need your submission, nor do I need you to call me master—just keep this lesson in your heart."
"Understood, understood, I'll remember, I swear," Rita stammered, trembling even more violently at the mention of Voldemort's name. Like everyone in wizarding society, she was gripped by fear of the man whose name must not be spoken.
She dared to mock and slander Dumbledore, but did she dare to mock Voldemort?
Whether before or after his death—though he was gone—Rita's articles over the years had never dared to ridicule or distort Voldemort. There were still many fugitive Death Eaters who had never been caught. Voldemort's downfall had come too swiftly, and the Ministry of Magic had been unprepared.
In short, Rita was terrified of retaliation.
Dumbledore wouldn't punish her for her reckless behavior, but Voldemort and his followers certainly would.
"Good," Harry said softly. "But remember, Rita—you won't get a second chance."
"Everything that happened today is your final warning. If I find out you've written anything in the papers—or done anything behind my back—that insults the glory of heroes, tarnishes the honor of those who've sacrificed, or spreads lies and fabrications about others—you will die."
His words were calm, almost casual, as if discussing what to have for dinner, yet they carried an overwhelming, oppressive force.
It was as if he were delivering a one-sided decree, indifferent to the recipient's will.
"I-I understand," Rita said, swallowing her fear, her voice quivering.
In her mind, the man before her had become akin to Voldemort himself—no longer a boy, but a demon, making her feel the tangible threat of death.
"You've seen my power with your own eyes. When I set my mind to something, not even the Ministry of Magic can stop me—not even Dumbledore, though he's chosen to restrain himself."
"So, don't take any chances, Rita," Harry said, sitting up. "Hold out your hand."
Rita was shaking like a leaf, her face a mess of tears and snot as she looked up pleadingly.
"Please, don't… don't kill me…"
"Have you lost your ability to think?" Harry said impatiently. "I told you, today is just a warning. Now, hold out your hand."
Trembling, Rita closed her eyes and obeyed.
With a slight wave of Harry's hand, a clump of earth flew in from the ground outside the window. Like liquid, it flowed, stretched, and wrapped around Rita's outstretched wrist, forming a perfect ring.
As it did, its texture shifted, transforming from dark soil to deep gray stone. Seven distinct elemental runes were etched into its surface, faintly glowing with an orange-red light.
"You can try to remove it—if you think you can," Harry continued. "I don't mind."
Feeling no expected pain, Rita opened her eyes and stared at the bracelet-like object now on her wrist. The orange-red runes had dimmed, making it appear unremarkable.
"I won't, my—sir," Rita said quickly, forcing a pale, ingratiating smile. "So, about the Daily Prophet—?"
She cautiously studied Harry's expression, ready to backtrack at the slightest sign of displeasure.
"Why not?" Harry said calmly. "Just report the truth. How you write it, in what order, and when you publish it—that's up to you. It's your job."
"But the Ministry…" Rita took a deep breath. "From what I know of the Ministry, the Minister won't like this kind of uncertainty, this controversy… It'll affect his approval ratings."
"Especially since your actions involve soul magic and the Statute of Secrecy," she added cautiously. "Based on past precedent, Fudge will either send Aurors to control you—well, considering Dumbledore's presence and your status as the Savior, he probably won't do that directly—but the Ministry will definitely pressure the Daily Prophet to suppress these stories."
"I've told you, Rita," Harry said seriously, "when I set my mind to something, nothing can stop me. I don't care how the Ministry reacts. I only care that my will is carried out."
Rita's pupils contracted, and after a moment of shock, wild excitement surged within her.
"You mean—I can, the Daily Prophet can actually publish these stories? You, or Dumbledore, will back us—er, I mean, the Ministry won't be able to force us to stop?"
"Of course," Harry scoffed. "Isn't that what a truth-speaking journalist and newspaper should do? Reporting trivial nonsense doesn't count as speaking the truth. And there's more—I need you to reveal the truth about one particular matter."
"The truth?!" Rita's excitement peaked, her numbness and pain seemingly forgotten, replaced by a surge of energy.
She lived for this. Compared to a scoop this big, physical pain was irrelevant.
"Sirius is innocent," Harry said bluntly, without preamble.
"Who?" For a moment, Rita didn't even recall who Sirius was—it had been too long since that name had surfaced. Then, her eyes widened. "Sirius?! Innocent?!"
How could those two words possibly go together?
"You heard me. Sirius Orion Black, my parents' friend, my godfather—he's innocent. The one who betrayed my parents wasn't him. It was Peter Pettigrew."
Harry's words hit Rita like a bomb, leaving her dazed. Her lightning-fried brain raced, frantically piecing things together.
"But—Sirius confessed himself—my God—" Rita stammered, unable to doubt Harry's words. After all, they came from Harry Potter, the one who should have the deepest vendetta against Sirius.
When it came to this matter, no one had more right to seek vengeance or harbor hatred than Harry—yet here he was, declaring Sirius's innocence.
"Can you elaborate?" Rita asked eagerly, taking a deep breath. "How did you uncover such a shocking secret?"
"I heard it from my parents," Harry said flatly. "Didn't you see James Potter's soul today?"
"Er!" Rita choked, caught off guard by the response.
She had expected a tale of chasing fragmented clues, unearthing hidden evidence, or discovering secret artifacts—a legendary story. Instead, Harry's answer was that the dead had told him.
A bit disappointing—it wasn't gripping enough… but in another way, it was oddly compelling.
Rita suddenly realized something. Even after witnessing a soul return from the dead today, her thinking was still trapped in the framework of wizarding magic, failing to adapt to this new reality.
"…Twelve years ago, my parents used the Fidelius Charm to protect themselves, ensuring Voldemort or his Death Eaters couldn't find them. Their chosen Secret-Keeper was Sirius Black."
The Fidelius Charm was an immensely complex spell that hid a secret within the soul of a living person—the Secret-Keeper. A place protected by the charm would remain hidden, invisible to anyone who didn't know the secret, even if they stood right in front of it, as long as the Secret-Keeper didn't reveal it.
"That's what we all know," Rita nodded.
"But in truth, my parents played a little trick—or rather, it was Sirius's spur-of-the-moment idea. He convinced James to switch the Secret-Keeper to Peter Pettigrew for the Potter family home, while publicly claiming it was still him. That way, he drew all of Voldemort's attention to himself, ensuring no one would suspect Peter."
Rita's eyes gleamed.
This was the scoop she lived for.
"So, Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters. After becoming the Secret-Keeper, he went straight to Voldemort with the secret!"
"Exactly. That's what Sirius feels guiltiest about. He believes his idea led to my parents' deaths, which is why he went after Peter."
"But he killed twelve Muggles and blew up a street," Rita said, frowning, though she was already accepting Harry's version.
"That was Peter's magic. Peter blew up the street," Harry said, shaking his head. "According to Sirius, all he found there was Peter's finger, so he didn't resist when the Ministry came for him. To atone for his idea, he let himself be thrown into Azkaban without complaint."
"Yes, yes, it all makes sense now," Rita said, her excitement undimmed by her disheveled appearance. She rambled eagerly, "No wonder when the Magical Law Enforcement team arrived, he was just laughing hysterically, not trying to escape or fight back."
"If he were avenging his dark master, his target should've been you, not Peter—er, no offense," Rita faltered. "And I remember clearly: Sirius's case never went through a Wizengamot trial. No Veritaserum was used. Yes, yes, yes! This involves a big name now—Barty Crouch!"
"No doubt, this will massively undermine the Ministry's credibility and authority," Rita said, her eyes blazing as she looked at Harry. "Fudge won't be happy about this. A mistake like this could tank his approval ratings—the Ministry will lose it!"
"Who cares?" Harry tilted his head. "This is the truth. Should others pay for the Ministry's mistakes?"
"Even the Ministry can't fully control the Daily Prophet, can they? Instead of fixing their errors, they hope to bury the truth so they can keep enjoying their power. Where's the justice in that?" Harry sneered. "I won't allow it."
"And one thing you got wrong—Fudge might actually be pleased to see the truth come out. As you said, the one who threw Sirius into Azkaban without a trial wasn't someone else?"
"Ah! The former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, now the Head of International Magical Cooperation," Rita said, practically vibrating with excitement. "He was Fudge's main rival when Fudge became Minister two years ago. If not for Crouch's son being a Death Eater, he might be Minister now!"
"I understand completely," Rita said, barely containing herself. "Even now, Crouch is a strong contender for Fudge's position. But if this mistake of Crouch's comes to light—sir, if I may be so bold, can I pass this along to Fudge?"
"Frankly, Fudge is an idiot," Rita said with a look of disdain. "All he does is sit in his office obsessing over his approval ratings. He wouldn't think of this himself."
"If we don't make him see the truth, that incompetent pig will just rage uselessly and deny everything you've said. He might even brand you a dark wizard because of your… magic."
"No matter," Harry said calmly. "Just remember the lesson I taught you. A journalist and a newspaper bold enough to tell the truth—prove your worth."
"I won't let you down," Rita said, bowing low with a solemn promise. "Not even the Ministry can stop us on this."
Rita could hardly wait.
After learning such explosive news, she felt every bit of suffering she'd endured today was worth it. Just as she'd planned, she'd found the scoop of a lifetime in this strange-looking building, hadn't she?