It didn't take Rita Skeeter long to locate Liam.
One of the greatest advantages of being an Animagus was access to an entirely different network of information.
When transformed into an animal, an Animagus could communicate with creatures of the same type and, to a certain extent, understand the behavior of other animals and insects.
That was one reason the Ministry regulated Animagi so heavily.
Spies who gathered intelligence through animals were exceptionally difficult to detect.
As a beetle, Rita moved effortlessly through Hogwarts.
A conversation here.
An overheard remark there.
Within a short time, she had pieced together Liam's movements.
As she flew through the castle, she couldn't suppress a smug sense of satisfaction.
The foolish child had actually dared to threaten her.
Once she gathered enough material, she'd return to the Daily Prophet and write a masterpiece.
Perhaps Liam Hale, Hero of Hogwarts, wasn't such a hero after all.
Perhaps he was hiding something.
And if he wasn't?
Well.
Details could always be adjusted.
The public loved scandals.
Soon, Rita watched Liam slip into an abandoned room in a forgotten corner of the seventh floor.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
She landed nearby and watched carefully.
"Alohomora."
The door clicked open.
Liam stepped inside.
Immediately, Rita darted through the gap before the door could close.
Her instincts screamed that she was close to discovering something important.
The moment she entered, a flash of magic struck the doorway.
The door sealed itself.
Rita wasn't worried.
A reinforced door?
That was normal.
If Liam was doing something secretive, naturally he'd want privacy.
Instead, her excitement increased.
She landed in a dusty corner and remained perfectly still.
Then she watched.
"Silencio."
"Intruder Alert."
Two more spells followed.
Rita practically vibrated with excitement.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
The more precautions Liam took, the more convinced she became that she was about to uncover something extraordinary.
Then Liam reached into his pocket.
A large iron box appeared.
The moment he opened it, a dark, unsettling aura spread through the room.
Rita's heart nearly stopped.
Black magic.
It had to be black magic.
A child hero secretly studying dark arts?
The story would be enormous.
Perhaps even larger than Voldemort's exposure.
For a moment, her greed overwhelmed her professionalism.
Why publish immediately?
The boy had just received twelve thousand Galleons.
Perhaps she could extract money first.
Then continue collecting leverage.
A long-term source of income sounded far more appealing.
Excited, Rita climbed onto the ceiling.
The beetle's tiny legs allowed her to cling effortlessly to the surface.
Then she peered down into the iron box.
A book.
An old book.
The title made her eyes widen.
The Most Evil Magic.
Rita nearly laughed aloud.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
Then she felt cold.
Very cold.
Slowly, she looked away from the book.
Looked toward Liam.
And froze.
The boy was staring directly at her.
Smiling.
A pleasant smile.
A terrifying smile.
"You know," Liam said softly.
"I gave you a chance to leave."
Rita's entire body went rigid.
"But you wasted it."
Every instinct screamed danger.
She launched herself from the ceiling.
Wings beating frantically.
She needed to escape.
Now.
"Human Form."
A flash of magic struck her tiny body.
The transformation happened instantly.
The beetle vanished.
Rita Skeeter appeared.
Unfortunately, she was now falling.
She crashed into the floor hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
Pain exploded through her body.
She barely managed to stay conscious.
"Miss Rita."
Liam's voice sounded almost cheerful.
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
He pointed his wand at her.
Rita stared in horror.
For the first time, she realized she had made a catastrophic mistake.
"You—"
Her voice trembled.
"You're just a child."
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
Liam tilted his head.
"A child?"
He chuckled.
"Miss Rita."
His silver eyes became colder.
"I spent two months in Azkaban."
The smile vanished.
"Before that, I survived six years in Knockturn Alley."
The wand never moved.
"I've killed enough dark wizards that I've stopped counting."
Rita's blood turned to ice.
Every article.
Every rumor.
Every warning she'd ignored.
Suddenly they didn't seem exaggerated anymore.
The boy standing before her wasn't a celebrity.
He wasn't a child.
He was a predator.
"Please."
She immediately abandoned any remaining pride.
"I won't tell anyone."
"You can use a Memory Charm."
"I'll forget everything."
"I swear I'll never write about you."
The words poured out desperately.
Liam listened.
Then shook his head.
"You've already seen too much."
The smile returned.
Somehow it was even worse than before.
"You saw me studying dark magic."
"You saw the book."
"You saw my precautions."
He crouched beside her.
"Dead people are much better at keeping secrets."
Rita's face turned white.
"No."
"No, please—"
"Crucio."
Agony exploded through her body.
The world vanished beneath unbearable pain.
She screamed.
Collapsed.
Begged.
The curse ended.
Liam watched calmly.
"Please."
Tears streamed down Rita's face.
"Forgive me."
"Why would I do that?"
His voice was genuinely curious.
The answer terrified her more than the curse.
Because it meant he wasn't angry.
He was simply deciding what to do.
Like a scientist examining an insect.
"Please..."
The wand rose again.
Blue-white flames ignited.
Rita's eyes widened.
She recognized the spell.
Fiendfyre.
"No!"
The scream echoed through the room.
"Fiendfyre."
The flames engulfed her instantly.
Unlike ordinary fire, there was no escape.
No survival.
The magical inferno consumed flesh, magic, and soul alike.
Within seconds, Rita Skeeter ceased to exist.
Nothing remained except a small pile of ash.
The room fell silent.
Liam waited.
Then casually dismissed the flames.
The floor remained untouched.
The walls remained untouched.
The room showed no damage whatsoever.
Years earlier, Liam had modified Fiendfyre extensively.
The original spell was powerful but impractical.
Difficult to control.
Dangerous to the caster.
His version was different.
Precise.
Efficient.
Capable of distinguishing friend from foe.
A weapon rather than a natural disaster.
"Evanesco."
The ash disappeared.
No body.
No evidence.
Nothing.
The room looked exactly as it had before.
Liam closed the lid of the iron box.
As he did, another thought crossed his mind.
During years of studying dark magic, he had discovered something unusual.
Most dark spells contained a hidden magical signature.
A subtle trace embedded deep within their structure.
Almost as though someone had intentionally designed them to be tracked.
The discovery had fascinated him.
Two years ago, he'd begun removing those traces from every dark spell he used.
As a result, nobody could identify him through magical residue.
More importantly, the discovery had inspired a new invention.
A specialized tracking spell.
One designed specifically to detect the hidden traces left by dark magic.
Many dark wizards believed themselves impossible to find.
They were wrong.
Against Liam's tracking methods, most of them might as well have left footprints in fresh snow.
After making one final inspection of the room, he nodded in satisfaction.
Every trace had been erased.
Every clue removed.
The iron box vanished back into his pocket.
Then Liam opened the door and calmly left the abandoned room.
As far as Hogwarts knew, Rita Skeeter had simply never returned from her visit.
....
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