10.
Rita Skeeter, voice firm though her fingers trembled, said:
"I discovered the contents of the prophecy." — She swallowed slightly as she noted the varied reactions around her, but continued firmly — "The one you believed lost."
The effect was immediate. Parker's smile vanished. Abraxas raised his eyebrows. Snape lost his impassive posture momentarily, recovering it instantly. Mortavius, in turn, did not move, but the glow in his red eyes intensified.
A dense silence fell over the group, as if the very field held its breath. Mortavius, in a cold, penetrating tone, said:
"And why would you deliver it to me?" — He paused — "What do you want in return?"
Rita inhaled deeply, steadying her voice. She had prepared for this moment and needed to sound resolute.
"I want a place in your government. A legitimate space in the new world you are creating."
A murmur of surprise passed among the Death Eaters. Apart from Snape, always imperturbable like an unyielding rocky mountain, another who did not flinch was Rodolfo; his expression revealed nothing.
Mortavius finally smiled, a subtle gesture that felt more like a warning.
"Ambition. Finally, a journalist who knows which way the wind blows."
"And I want my own newspaper. Independent. Uncensored," Rita added quickly, flustered by her racing heart.
Mortavius tilted his head, as if studying a rare insect. His eyes locked on hers, unblinking, as if reading the hidden layers of unspoken thoughts. Then he said, low and threatening:
"There is more than that — pause — you are hiding something from me, Skeeter. I can taste the lie in the air."
Rita hesitated. The weight of those eyes was unbearable. Her mask of control slipped. She lowered her gaze for a second, then spoke again, voice choked with barely contained emotion:
"The head of the person who betrayed me. She took everything from me. My prestige, my readers, my credibility… There is no longer space for me in 'official' journalism. She took it all."
"Who?"
Rita swallowed hard:
"Hermione Granger."
Mortavius looked confused, unable to remember the surname until Snape spoke:
"Percival's girlfriend. A Muggle-born."
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "That will be a pleasure to accomplish. Parker, you love hunting young ones. The mission is yours."
"Thank you, my Lord. I will enjoy it immensely," Parker replied with a lecherous grin.
Mortavius then looked at Rita, observing her for a longer moment. Then, raising one hand subtly, Narcissa brought a crystal bowl and placed it in her hands.
"Show me. Tell me the prophecy."
Rita swallowed. She knew that after this moment, there would be no turning back.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Narcissa acted first. Her heel struck Rita's heel with surgical precision, knocking her to her knees while pulling her hair back. On her knees, Rita felt Narcissa's wand press against her temple. Cold as winter against her skin.
"Release it," she ordered, and Rita obeyed.
The memory emerged like a silver, viscous thread, clinging to the tip of the wand. Narcissa placed it in an obsidian chalice and mixed it with a dark potion.
The amber liquid bubbled. Mortavius plunged his hands into the vessel and brought it to his face. Then the field dissolved before his eyes, and what he saw changed everything.
There are moments when destiny bows, not before an army, a king, or a supreme being, but to a silent choice. A seemingly insignificant gesture: a second delayed, an averted gaze, an unspoken word, a smile, a glance… and destiny, no matter how immutable it seems, is made of loose sand slipping through fingers. Even the gods and their playwrights sometimes lose control of the script and projected plans.
Rita had diverted the course of destiny without even realizing it. Her petty, selfish decision did not thunder like a gunshot, but its impact was the same. No, it was far worse.
What she did would not be recorded in any official report, no historian would even mention it, however honest they might be. Yet that moment, when the memories revealed their content to Mortavius, the threads of destiny trembled. Lines once carved in stone began to blur, rearrange. It was as if a piece had slipped off the board, and now even the Norns, those old women who weave fate with the strings of time, watched in silence, perplexed at the theater spinning out of control. The circle on fire.
Because the world does not change with grand gestures. It changes with the imperceptible. And Rita, with her stormy eyes, had just redesigned history.
"This… changes everything," Mortavius whispered to himself. "One must die…"
He rose with fluid movement, steps echoing with restrained euphoria. He seemed to drink in the certainty of his next actions like dark wine. It was clear in his eyes: his decision—to kill the boy. To kill Hadrian Percival. To burn hope to its roots, at any cost.
Rita saw it clearly; even Snape could see it, though his own heart was flooded with a cold, calculated current of decision.
Mortavius stopped before Rita, now standing, and gripped her wrist with bony fingers.
"Very well, Miss Skeeter. Your newspaper will be founded," he said with a half-smile. "And to inaugurate your first edition, I will grant an exclusive interview. I want the world to see another version of me… not the monster of tales, but the man behind the name."
He smiled, as if a brilliant idea had just struck him.
"And you, little insect… I will give you… a legacy."
Rita swallowed. She knew she had made a pact with something far greater than she had ever faced, and from that moment, her pen would write in the shadow of something darker than truth.
Narcissa watched in silence, all of them watched as Mortavius's wand touched Rita's forearm, and she screamed. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. A black serpent emerged, entwined with a skull. The Dark Mark, alive, twisted before vanishing, leaving a silver scar.
"Feed it with blood," he said, "and its power will flourish."
Mortavius turned his gaze to Narcissa.
"Lucius's mistakes… will be tolerated. Only this once…"
A nearly imperceptible tremor ran through Narcissa's hands, and a sigh of relief filled her.
Mortavius turned to the Death Eaters around him.
"Call everyone."