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Rita Skeeter felt her heart nearly leap out of her throat.
How had these three people appeared in her living room without a sound?
Were they here to settle accounts with her?
The next second, she dismissed the thought.
No, no... I'm something of a celebrity. And that Lockhart is Ministry of Magic, he'll worry about the fallout. He won't dare do anything out of line. If she came with him, the "Witch" probably isn't here to settle scores either.
Before she could recover from the shock, Hermione's voice rang out again.
"Ms. Skeeter, what I told you yesterday — you actually..."
Rita swallowed.
"...didn't report it in full?!"
"...Huh?"
Rita's mouth twitched. Her mind went blank.
That's what this is about?!
Come on, how was I supposed to write up that kind of insane nonsense?
This is the Daily Prophet, not the Asylum Chronicles!
She forced a smile onto her face.
"Ah... Miss Granger, the layout was quite limited..."
"Content that important, naturally, I was saving it for the next issue. A proper in-depth feature..."
In her mind, she had already cursed Hermione a hundred times over. No genius girl, this one. A complete and utter lunatic.
Hermione nodded, as though she hadn't noticed the deflection at all.
"Oh? Is that so?"
She picked up the newspaper from the table and pointed to a passage, the very section about Lockhart's double act.
"Didn't you just say the layout was limited? Then why did you add things I never said?"
Rita's stomach lurched. She rushed to explain.
"That was a reasonable inference, based on what you said yesterday..."
Hermione looked at her strained attempt at composure and gave a faint smile.
"Ms. Skeeter, there's no need to be nervous. I have some good news, and some bad news. Which would you like first?"
Rita glanced at Lockhart and Ethan. Both had been utterly silent from the start, standing motionless as two wooden posts. The atmosphere in the room felt increasingly, unmistakably wrong. She forced out a smile.
"...The good news?"
Hermione nodded approvingly, the way a teacher might praise a student who'd given the right answer.
"The good news," she said, tone light and cheerful, "is congratulations. You guessed right."
Rita: "...?"
"Congratulations, Ms. Skeeter." Hermione continued without missing a beat. "Your professional instincts are remarkably sharp. Your deduction about Professor Lockhart was completely correct."
"Back at the Ministry of Magic, we were indeed putting on an act. And the matter of me colluding with Voldemort, that's true as well."
Hermione's tone was more sincere than it had ever been.
"I deliberately released that prophecy to lure those fools at the Ministry into coming after me. I needed an excuse, something to work with."
"And incidentally, to help Professor Lockhart elevate his standing within the Ministry, to set the stage for what comes next."
Rita felt her brain buzzing.
What are you saying? I guessed right?
No, something's wrong. I must be misunderstanding something.
Watching Rita's dumbfounded face, the smile on Hermione's lips deepened.
Rita's throat went dry. When she finally spoke, her voice carried an almost imperceptible tremor.
"Then... what's the bad news?"
The smile on Hermione's face didn't waver. But her eyes sent a chill straight down Rita's spine.
"The bad news is, congratulations..."
Hermione paused.
Then she spoke again, deliberate, each word landing on its own.
"You guessed right."
Before Rita's tangled thoughts could find any coherence, Hermione tilted her head slightly and gestured toward "Ethan Hunt."
The young man who had been silent all along moved.
The contours of his face began to blur. The sunny, open features of "Ethan Hunt" faded, dissolving like a reflection on disturbed water.
What emerged in their place was an entirely different face.
Handsome. Remarkable in bearing. Eyes that were deep and dark, carrying within them a coldness, a darkness, that made the heart seize in the chest.
This face...
Rita's pupils contracted sharply. Her breath stopped.
As a veteran reporter, she never forgot the faces of prominent figures in the wizarding world. Especially those who had carved themselves into history.
Fragments of images tore through her mind in a torrent, then locked into place.
She recognized him.
Cold sweat soaked through the back of Rita's shirt. Her teeth chattered beyond her control.
Fear closed around her heart like an icy hand.
The person standing before her...
Was unmistakably a young Voldemort.
The next second, the young man's lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. "Allow me to introduce myself. Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"You generally know me as..."
"Voldemort."
The room spun. Rita could barely keep her feet.
How is he here?! With Hermione and Lockhart?!
Every instinct in her body screamed to scream, but her throat felt sealed shut, not a single sound capable of escaping.
Lockhart stood to the side. His signature smile was still perfectly in place. Only now, to Rita, that smile was soaked in something indescribable and wrong.
A horror story, standing right in front of her.
Rita finally understood. Hermione hadn't been spouting nonsense. Everything she had said was true.
All of it.
True.
Hermione looked at Rita's face, white as paper, twisted in pure terror, and the corner of her mouth curved with satisfaction.
She took one step forward. Her voice came out soft. It made Rita feel as though she had been dropped into a frozen lake.
"You see, Ms. Skeeter, how utterly candid I am with you. Every bit of the truth, not a single detail left out, I've told it all."
Hermione tilted her head slightly, a trace of mockery in her eyes, looking Rita over with something like leisurely interest.
"And yet... looking at you now, why don't you seem the least bit pleased?"
"This is an exclusive inside story that could shake the entire wizarding world."
Rita shuddered violently.
She finally understood the horror hiding behind that "candor."
This wasn't a news scoop.
This was a death notice.
Knowing a secret like this, how could she possibly be allowed to live?
She shook her head desperately. Tears and snot smeared across her face. There was not a trace left of her usual sharp, calculating composure.
"No. I didn't hear anything. I don't know anything..."
"Miss Granger — no, Lady Witch — please. Spare me. I will never breathe a word, I swear it!"
The smile on Hermione's face faded slightly.
She raised her wand with quiet calm, its tip leveled at Rita, who had crumpled to the floor.
"Since you're incapable of conveying information accurately, keeping this pen of yours around seems rather pointless."
Rita's eyes went wide with terror.
"No! Please, no!"
Hermione didn't acknowledge the wailing.
"Crucio!"
A flash of red light.
Pain, indescribable, absolute, tore through every nerve in Rita's body at once. It was as if countless red-hot needles were driving straight through her soul.
She curled in on herself on the floor, body convulsing violently, a harrowing shriek tearing out of her throat.
At some point, Hermione put her wand away.
Rita lay collapsed on the ground, soaked through with cold sweat, pupils blown wide, nothing left but shallow, ragged breaths.
Hermione looked down at her from above, her voice perfectly even.
"Ms. Skeeter."
"Now do you understand? The most important things in news reporting are truth and accuracy."
It took Rita a long time to come back to herself.
She looked up into Hermione's eyes.
There was nothing in them. No warmth, no cruelty, no anger. Nothing at all.
In that moment, Rita truly understood what the word "Witch" meant.
➤ Next: Bald Egg Assassinated
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