Categories > Books > Harry Potter


by Alorkin 16 reviews

Harry and Hermione are tired of Rita Skeeter, and decide to get some revenge. Innuendo to spare. Probably cliche`. Slightly AU one-shot.

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Humor,Parody - Characters: Harry,Hermione - Warnings: [?] - Published: 2009-09-09 - Updated: 2009-09-09 - 5167 words - Complete


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter (et al). That privilege goes to the talented and lovely J. K. Rowling, to whom I am eternally indebted, both for a fascinating read and for many bedtime stories for my daughter.

Disclaimer 2: This story is so NOT HBP compliant! it sequel, Deadly Horrible, clearly demonstrate that even talented and lovely authors can make (hideously ugly) mistakes.

Disclaimer 3: RAID is owned by S. E. Johnson Wax. ‘The Godfather’ is owned by Mario Puzo and assigns, and ‘The Star’ is a British yellow sheet which rivals the ‘National Enquirer’ for it’s journalistic accuracy.

A/N: I wish to thank my sister, Firelemming, for her beta work. She doesn’t even follow the Harry Potter fandom, preferring TLK, and yet, will take time to offer much needed (and often unappreciated) critical advice.

A/N 2: Connie Hammer is used with permission from Old Crow.

“Guys, here’s a plan that will get Rita Skeeter off our backs permanently!” Harry announced. He threw the wadded-up newspaper into the fireplace in utter disgust. “We didn’t want to do this, but she’s pushed us too far, this time! Hermione and I have come up with something sneaky and underhanded that will completely discredit her, expose her as an animagus, and make her look stupid, all at one time. It’s going to take all of your cooperation, though. What we propose is this…”

Harry’s idea had every one of his friends rolling on the floor laughing. Finally, he called back their attention.

“Yeah, we thought you’d like it. Meanwhile, we’ll be in some very visible place, with, let’s say…”


“Naah! He’s an arse! Maybe Madam Hammer, She’s been the head of the DMLE since the Death Eaters killed Madam Bones.” Harry saw Susan bite her lip. He’d taken her in as a ward, through the Black Foundation. Something that Dumbledore had vehemently opposed, yet, because of the pureblood laws, could do little about. He wrapped his arms around her in a brief hug, saying: “I’m sorry, Susan.” quietly, but with feeling, before releasing her to Neville’s arms.


“Hello, Mister Potter.” Connie Hammer greeted Harry. Amelia had spoken of this young man several times. She had respected Harry Potter, not for something he’d done as a babe, but for the way he’d handled himself during that abortion Fudge had called a trial. Amelia did not give her respect freely, and so Connie felt that if Harry deserved Amelia’s respect, she would give hers as well. Now, the legend stood before her.

“Good morning, Madam Hammer. Thanks for seeing me.” Harry replied. “Please call me Harry.”

“Thank you, Harry. In that case, please call me Connie.” She grinned.

Harry returned the grin and said: “Thank you, Connie. I appreciate that.” He sobered and went on.

“Since I know you’re a very busy woman, dealing with the aftereffects of that idiot, Fudge’s refusal to admit Voldemort’s return, I’ll get straight to the point.”

“And that point is…?”

“Rita Skeeter has maligned and slandered my friends and me for the last time. I want it to stop! Moreover, I want to completely discredit that vindictive cow. I want the wizarding world to know that she’s an unregistered animagus, which is how she’s been getting all those ‘exclusives’. She takes the form of a large water beetle with markings on her upper carapace which look like those horrid glasses she wears. Her ‘unnamed source’ is herself. She takes half-arsed rumour and ‘reports’ it as fact. You recall a couple years ago when she first went after me? After I refused to cooperate with her propaganda to make her look good, she spoke to several students at Hogwarts and reported only what those students who have a problem with me, told her…in other words, vindictive gossip. Most of those students are children of Death Eaters anyway.

After that, she invented a romance between Hermione Granger and me. When Hermione told her off for reporting Hagrid as a half giant, like he can control who his parents were. She turned Hermione from the ‘stunningly pretty muggle-born’ into the ‘plain, but ambitious girl’ with delusions of grandeur, involving me, Hermione and Viktor in a sordid threesome. She’s been on my arse for the past three years, first by herself, and then for that moron, Fudge, and I want it to stop…now! Quite frankly, I don’t trust Scrimgeour any more than I did Fudge. He strikes me as someone who would use people around him the way Dumbledore does, to have what he wants.”

“I’m afraid you are right, Harry. Rufus was a very capable Auror, and he truly despises Voldemort, but there are some people who just can’t say ‘no’ to power.”

“Yeah, I know at least a few of them. Anyway, that’s all beside the point. Hermione and I did some research. We discovered that the laws of the wizarding world are woefully behind those of the muggle world, and that slander, libel and character assassination are not illegal…if you have enough money to buy your way out of trouble. The Prophet stands solidly behind her, because she’s their cash cow. They have enough gold behind them that the ministry overlooks any irregularities. Since I invoked the ‘end of a noble line’ clauses, and inherited Sirius Black’s estate, as well as my parents’, I now have enough gold behind my name to buy the Prophet and still have more than ninety percent of my estate left over. So, first, I want to put the fear of God into the Prophet. Let them know that some people will not tolerate this sort of tripe anymore. I’m going to start a campaign that’ll cost them every reader they have. When the stock tanks, I’m going to buy the paper for a penny on the pound, fire the editor, and most of the writers and hand the whole thing over to Madam Longbottom for administration. She’ll be working directly for me, but I’ll stay out of it. In addition, I’ll have certain employment requirements for the reporting and editing staff…none of which includes schmoozing up to me.

For now, though, I want the wizarding world to see what kind of ‘reporter’ does their thinking for them and I want them to see that the tripe she prints as ‘truth’ is nothing more than yellow-sheet gossip. I figure since she can get away with doing that to me, I reckon I can return the favor and make her look like a complete arse in front of all her ‘faithful readers’. That’s where you come in.”

“Mister Potter, as much as I would love to see that particular insect get squashed, I cannot sanction anything illegal. You know that.”

“I do. What I propose is…” Harry quietly explained his plan to her. Connie Hammer began to snicker. Her snickers soon became gales of laughter.

Long minutes later, she recovered herself.

“By Merlin’s beard! I needed that! You’re right. She’d never be able to pass up on something that juicy!” She nodded. “And you will be here with me that evening. I think an ‘impromptu’ press conference will be forthcoming.”

That’ll be great. I have to warn you though. Don’t tell either Shacklebolt or Tonks.”

“Why not?” Connie was puzzled. She’d thought Potter liked the odd pair of Aurors. “Those are two of my very best.”

“They are also members of Dumbledore’s bird club. I’d really rather he not learn of this, ahead of time.”

“Oh, yes. ‘The Order of the Phoenix.’ Could that man possibly be any more dramatic?” She sighed. “Don’t worry about those two. I am well aware of their membership in the order. I’ll tell them to avoid mentioning this.”

“They mightn’t have a choice. Both Dumblefutz and his pet Death Eater are Legilimens’. If their Occlumency shields aren’t strong enough…well, those two like to sneak peeks as a matter of course. Snape is good…Dumbledore is even better. I can feel Snape’s probes. Dumbledore’s are so light they’re little more than whispers. Even when I’m expecting a probe, I can hardly feel it.”

“I shall keep that in mind. I think that, just coincidentally, both Tonks and Shacklebolt are due for an Occlumency review.”

Harry grinned.


“OK, people! Harry called out. “Gather ‘round!” When the six couples circled him, Harry began to speak.

“I’ve sent my challenge to ‘dear’ Rita, and she’s on her way. Now, because this is such a dodgy tactic, I’m going to offer you lot one last chance to bail out.” At their blank looks, Harry sighed. “When a muggle aeroplane can’t fly anymore, the pilot leaves the plane and floats to the ground hanging from a large…very large circle of silk. The process is called ‘bailing out’. Ron, Seamus and Colin nodded, but Neville, Terry and Michael still looked puzzled.

“Nemmind. What I’m saying is this: You have one last chance to say: ‘No thanks’, is all.”

Ron spoke. “Harry…mate. We all hate what that stupid cow has been doing to you and Hermione. If we can help put a stop to it, then we’re in!” Nods from the others reaffirmed Ron’s declaration.

“Thank you. Thank you all.” Harry felt his eyes sting. Beside him, Hermione was smiling broadly.

Harry held lifted the rack with six carefully measured doses of Hermione’s improved Polyjuice potion.

“Here are your posts. Ron, you and Luna will go first. You’ll be in ‘Broom cupboard 69’ on the sixth floor, between five and six.” Take this before you leave because Rita will probably be waiting.” Harry handed one phial to Ron. “When you’re finished, send Luna away as if you don’t really care, and then say just loudly enough to be overheard a few feet away, “I wonder who’s in the astronomy tower?” Dobby will be waiting and when he hears that he’ll go to Michael and Ginny. You turn up the corridor to the astronomy tower, and then immediately duck behind the statue of Paracelcus. Cast a disillusionment spell over yourself and wait. I’ve set up an animagus ward there. When you see it light up, you’ll know where she is. When she’s passed you and gone up to the tower, you go on back to Gryffindor.

Michael, Dobby will bring you the polyjuice. You drink it straight away and…well, I suppose you know what to do by now. You’ll do a repeat. Send Ginny off, and head down to Greenhouse 7. When you arrive, duck behind the Flaming Flytraps. Neville will meet you there and show you your escape route. Neville, you and Susan just make sure you’re there before seven. When Dobby shows, drink the polyjuice right off. Now, I’ve already gotten Sprout’s permission for this. I had to tell her why, but she hates Rita as much as I do. Oh, and don’t do anything too kinky in there. I need her alive to print this rubbish.”

Neville and Susan both grinned wickedly and nodded.

Colin, you and Darrin will be in the Slytherin stands on the Quidditch pitch. Neville will wander up there and then into the tunnel under the pitch. You two will actually have a pivotal role. Like in the corridor, the wards are erected there already, so as soon as you see them go off, you’ll know she’s there.”

Colin grinned. “Don’t worry, Harry. We’ll give her a show!”

“Ooh! Too much information, Colin. Anyway, thanks for your help. When she sees you two, she’s going to burst a blood vessel!” Harry took a breath. “I’m quite certain that having been raised in the wizarding world, she’s not as familiar with homosexuality as muggles are. She’s probably going to think she’s got the scoop of the century. Now, this is where we need to keep her attention, so next up, will have to be something even hotter. So, that means… Terry and Cho. I want to thank you both for your participation here, especially you, Cho. I was an insensitive berk the last time ‘round, and I’m terribly sorry. I’m glad you and Terry have gotten together. You’re good for each other.” Both Terry and Cho blushed.

“You’ll be in the Ravenclaw equipment shed. Colin, You’ll send Darrin away to bed, and then lead Rita to the shed. My invisibility cloak will be hanging on the hook immediately to the right of the door. The very second you get inside, put it on. From there, Terry, you lead Cho to her common room, and then you vanish. There’s a secret passage on the left side, next to the suit of armor that belonged to Victor the Vimless. I’ve already had a little chat with the armor. It turns out he doesn’t like her either. When he sees you coming, he’ll open up. Get inside as fast as you can. The passage will take you to the kitchen. Have a cup of hot chocolate or something but don’t come back up until the polyjuice has worn off. When she can’t find you, she’ll lose interest and head out to write her story.

Last up, is Seamus! You and Marissa will have to catch her attention on our own, which means you’ll be rather ‘exposed’ as it were. I want you on the grounds along the path leading to the front gates. There’s that nice little depression around fifty yards away from the front door and twenty from the road. Stay as close to the castle as you can, though. Flitwick will be on the front ramparts maintaining security…just in case.”


Harry and Hermione separated the girls from the boys and each took their group for private chats. Harry faced his friends and spoke.

“All right, lads. Two last points I really have to make.” Harry was suddenly embarrassed. “First, You’re going to have to pretend you’re me. The girls will see me, and Rita will see me. Please treat the girls well. It’s my reputation on the line, here. Second point: Since I am…erm…considerably ‘larger’ than most guys, you have to swear to take it easy on the girls. Too much, too fast, if you take my meaning, can actually hurt them.”

“Oh, come on, Potter, rumour be damned! You can’t be that big!” Corner protested.

“I am.” Harry averred, blushing.

“Tripod!” Chimed the grinning Ron, Neville and Seamus.

“He is!” Hermione called from across the room. The girls around her all giggled. Hermione flushed.




Hermione was instructing the girls. “Now, remember. These are your own boyfriends inside. Please don’t do anything that will jeopardize your relationships. Still, you absolutely must call him Harry, no matter who he is. Do you understand? Rita is a dangerous enemy. She’s a ruthless, conniving bitch and will twist whatever she wants to achieve her own ends. That’s why we’re doing this in the first place. Bearing that in mind, is there anyone here who can’t handle this?’’

Ginny smirked: “Not handle being shagged by the green eyed Quidditch god? Not bloody likely! Hermione is it true what the boys say? Is he really that big?”

Hermione grinned. Just then Corner sneered from across the room: “Come on, Potter, rumour be damned! You can’t be that big!”

“I am.” Harry replied, followed by three voices saying: “Tripod!”

Thinking it necessary to add some personal verification Hermione called out: “He is!” She flushed as the girls around her all giggled.


Rita Skeeter sat at her desk, curious about the strange package the mailroom boy had just delivered. Other reporters had also wondered about the loosely wrapped, three-day-old copy of the Prophet. Rita wafted her wand across the wrapper, seeking any dangerous tricks. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had tried to silence the ‘voice of truth’ as she preferred to call herself. The glow around the package remained blue.

Carefully unwrapping the thing, she unveiled a shiny, deep blue paper envelope covered with holes, bearing a yellow banner and the word ‘RAID’ in black lettering. Rita held up the thing and asked the room at large: “Does anybody know what ‘raid’ means?” Heads turned in her directions. Curious heads shook. A snicker from her left drew her attention to Sean Michaels, a muggle-raised halfblood who had delivered the mail.

“You know what this means, boy?” She asked with some asperity. She never liked the idea of the mud…muggle-raised wizard working at The Prophet, a longtime bastion of pureblood integrity. Unfortunately purebloods willing to risk their reputations on the written word, were few and far between, so the paper had no choice but to employ the ‘less desirable’ elements of wizarding society.

Michaels continued to snicker, but nodded his head.

When he had stopped his infernal laughing, he said: “It’s called a ‘no-pest strip’. One hangs it from the ceiling and flying insects are attracted to it. When they touch it they are caught and the poison on it kills them. Why would anybody send you something like that, wrapped like a fish?”

“What do you mean; ‘wrapped like a fish’?” Rita snarled.

Sean turned serious. “I suppose, being a pureblood and all, you haven’t been introduced to the finer points of living, such as the cinema.” He announced in a snooty voice. Rita scowled at his insult, but Sean went on. “A number of years ago there was a very good enactment of a novel by Mario Puzo, called ‘The Godfather’. In it, was a scene where a criminal boss had a fish wrapped in a newspaper, sent to a man he suspected of talking to the police…the muggle Aurors. Effectively, it was a rather obvious threat, which could also seem entirely innocent, as fishmongers used to wrap their fish in paper to keep them fresh from the market to the home. What the warning meant was, ‘If you talk, you’ll be swimming with the fishes.” In other words, killed and buried at sea. My question is: “Why would someone send you something meant to eliminate flying pests?”

“That’s none of your concern, boy!” Rita snapped, wondering at the particular turn of phrase Michaels had used. “Get back to your job…mail-boy!”

Shrugging, Michaels did just that. Leaving the room, he entered the stairwell where he began to shift until he was a she and she wore bright pink hair. With a nasty smirk, Nymphadora-call-me-that-and-die!-Tonks descended the stairs to the ground floor, where she left the prophet building, whistling a sprightly tune.


Rita had set the thing aside. Intending to have it mounted as a trophy. She’d show whoever it was, that Rita Skeeter could not be intimidated!

Turning her thoughts to her mail, she found two pieces. One was an envelope with her name scrawled on it, the other, a small scroll. Passing her wand across it, for traps, she opened the scroll first. Her eyes almost fell out of her head as the parchment erupted into flaming words. “STAY AWAY FROM HARRY POTTER. THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!” The scroll burned to ashes seconds later, leaving only soot on her desk.

Now, a bit frazzled, as well as furious, that someone would dare attempt to stifle ‘the voice of the people’ in her quest for enlightenment, Rita irritably swept the traces of ash from her desk, not knowing that as she did, she was infecting herself with the first part of a binary potion which would force her to speak, and consequently write, only the truth for the rest of her life. The two parts formed a permanent variety of Veritaserum that Hermione had developed. Ignoring a repeat scan, as the letter had been just under the scroll and hadn’t reacted, she carefully slit open the letter. Nothing exploded, erupted or slimed it’s way out so she extracted the page within. As soon as she touched the page, the second part of the potion seeped through her damp fingertips and the chemicals began to interact. Rita would not feel the effects of the potion for several days yet, but she’d doomed herself all the same.

The letter brought a happy smile. One of her faithful readers, had sent her the juiciest lead on Harry Potter she’d had in quite some time. More, the tipster hadn’t signed his or her name or made any mention of payment, which meant, she could use her old standby, ‘A source closely connected to…’ and not have to worry about paying anything out. Sometimes she wondered if these fools realised they could get rich by just by providing their names on the tips they sent in.


The press conference was as boring as Harry expected. Afterward, he, Hermione, Professor Dumbledore and Connie Hammer all retired for dinner. They left the executive dining room at quarter to eleven and made their way to the floo point, where they returned to the headmaster’s office.

“Harry, while I appreciate your being willing to work with the ministry, in the future, I would prefer a bit more notice, I do, after all, have work here that must be attended to.” Hermione rolled her eyes at Dumbledore’s hypocrisy.

Harry saw it and covered for her immediately.

“I do apologize, Professor.” Harry snarked. “Madam Hammer only just contacted me today, asking me to assist her in the press conference. Since I’m the one with the information, she needed, and as I now hold the titles of both Potter and Black houses, it seemed only reasonable to help her out. I’ll try to curb my altruistic tendencies in the future.”

“Harry…” Dumbledore sighed. “I do not appreciate your sarcasm.”

“Headmaster, I really couldn’t care less. With all you’ve done to me in the name of ‘the greater good’ I’m surprised that I’m still alive, not to mention still attending this school and not Durmstrang or ‘the European Institute for Evil Overlords’.”

Harry turned to Hermione and offered his arm, asking: “Shall we?” and together, they left a dumbfounded headmaster and a quietly snickering phoenix.


“Well! That certainly got his attention. ‘The European Institute for Evil Overlords’?” Hermione raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“I was rushed. Actually, I was trying for ‘E-I-E-I-O’ like in the song, but I couldn’t find anything for the second ‘I’. Besides, I think it sounds pretty cool.”

The two of them laughed as they walked. Hermione noticed that they weren’t headed towards the tower. Rather, they were moving toward the Room of Requirement.

“So.” Hermione asked with a naughty grin. “What now?”

“Well, since ‘Dear’ Rita is even now, writing an article about me shagging every girl in this school, why don’t we make at least part of that true? I understand the Room of Requirement is free, just now.” Harry returned. Hermione flushed in anticipation, and together, they walked to the seventh floor.


The next morning Harry and Hermione, both quite tender and completely satisfied, descended to the Great Hall for breakfast. In the middle of the meal, the expected newspapers arrived. The headline screamed:

By: Rita Skeeter

“Lothario?” Harry laughed. “I’m surprised she even knew what that meant. It is a muggle term, after all.”

Gentle readers, last afternoon, Your intrepid reporter was contacted by a
source closely connected to the infamous Boy Who Lived, telling her that
he was involved in some rather shady dealings with several of the innocent
young women at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Of course, this reporter, fearing no censure from the erratic Headmaster of
that bastion of higher learning, allowing no distance, no obstacle to interfere
with the gathering of the truth, headed directly to Hogwarts to determine if
the scurrilous allegations brought forth were in fact, the truth.

Alas, they were…

The article written by Rita Skeeter, of course, went on to describe, in intimate detail, the faux Harry’s encounters with the various girls and Colin’s boyfriend, Darrin, in the different places throughout the castle. Girls all over the Great Hall were giggling and several boys were glaring at Harry with various expressions of disgust or envy.

Draco sauntered over, after first looking to see if Professor Snape was watching.

“So, Potter!” He sneered. “You got caught…”

“Sorry, Drakey-poo. This is a ‘no ferret’ zone. Go away.” Harry fluttered his hand in dismissal and absently cast a black and yellow striped barrier on the floor between Malfoy and the Gryffindor table complete with signs on pedestals, showing a white ferret crossed by the international ‘no’ symbol.

Every ear in the great hall perked at that. Most recalled Draco’s humiliation at the hands of the fake Moody in Harry’s fourth year. Draco turned red.

“When my father…”

“Yes, yes, yes. He’ll Crucio me until I can’t walk…” Harry said in a bored tone, turning the page of his newspaper. “…and then he’ll Avada Kedavra me. Oh, but wait. He can’t. First off, he’s in Azkaban, and second, his master Voldy-wart wants that particular privilege for himself. I’d imagine he’d be rather put out with ‘daddy’, if his head Death Eater offed The-Boy-Who-Lived, before he got the chance, dontchathink?”

Nastyuglycursius!” Draco screamed. Harry flicked his wand and a silver shield appeared. The curse Draco had uttered flashed back into him doing some really nasty ugly things to him.

“Potter!” Snape bellowed. One hundred points from Gryffindor and three months detention with me!” Now remove your curse, or I’ll do a lot worse!”

“Nonsense, Severus!” Came the squeaky voice of Filius Flitwick. “Mister Potter cast no curse at all. He simply shielded against the nastyuglycursius Mister Malfoy threw. By the way, did you know that rhymed?” Flitwick conjured a huge bucket and some sponges to sop up the gelatinous mess that was Malfoy.

“I don’t care. I have my prejudice and I don’t like Potter!” You cannot interfere because I am the ultimate power in this school! The stupid old muggle lover will back me unless he wants something ‘bad’ to happen!”

“Just exactly what do you mean by ‘bad’, Severus?” Dumbledore had finally arrived…late, as usual.

Snape stammered: “Nothing, headmaster. I was…I was only posturing. Erm, I think I’ll go to my room…erm the dungeons now.”

“Good…good.” Dumbledore replied absently, as he was far more interested in the honey-buttered scones on the plate before him than anything as mundane as actually running a school for impressionable magical children.

Until he opened his copy of The Daily Prophet.

Harry was impressed. “Hermione! Look! Not even uncle Vernon can go pale that fast!”

Hermione giggled: “Shut up, Harry, or you’re going to blow it!”

Dumbledore looked up to see Harry and Hermione snickering at the article. Beside him, Professor McGonagall spat out her tea as she read the front page. She’d gotten as far as ‘Harry’ and Susan before she could take no more. She laid her paper on the table and looked up at the youth and his girlfriend. McGonagall was by then, a fetching shade of pink.

“Mister Potter, Miss Granger? Would you both please stop by my office before your first class? I would like to discuss this article in the paper.”

“We’d love to, Professor…” Harry stood and explained: “But Professor Snake will take points and give us detention if we’re not there for him to torment. Perhaps after potions?” Harry was the spirit of cooperation itself.

I shall speak to professor Snape and inform him you will be late.” Minerva insisted.


In her office, McGonagall held out the Prophet. “Would you care to explain this?” McGonagall pointed to the front-page article.

“Actually, it’s quite simple. I got tired of her using me for her own enrichment. She’s been abusing her position as a reporter for years, and instead has been emulating the very worst that ‘The Star’ has to offer. I simply put an end to it. Right now, Connie Hammer is posting a letter to the publisher explaining that Hermione, Professor Dumbledore and I were at a press conference, which dear Rita missed, by the way, and later we had dinner together. There were at least a dozen reporters there, and the house elves at the ministry saw us together afterwards. Since we were there for more than an hour, we couldn’t have been using polyjuice potion.”

“And why is she describing your ‘amorous actions’ so…thoroughly?”

“Well, she just might have received a ‘tip’ yesterday telling her that Harry Potter was cheating on his girlfriend. Now, knowing her way of mind, I’m sure she’d think it would be some juicy gossip and so she might have come to Hogwarts…despite the headmaster’s injunction against her. Did you know that she’s an illegal animagus? She’s an ugly water beetle with markings that match those hideous glasses he wears. That’s how she’s been getting all those juicy ‘exclusives’.”

“Indeed. Tell me then, Mister Potter, what made her write such an obscenely revealing article, if she did not actually see you?”

“Well, and again, I’m hypothesizing, but maybe it’s possible that someone managed to brew the hideously finicky polyjuice potion and give it to, let’s say, six guys who hated the way she’s been treating me and Hermione lately, and it’s just barely possible that while I was plainly in the public view in the presence of such august members of the wizarding community, as Constance Hammer and Albus Dumbledore, they and their girlfriends just might have found different places in and around the castle in which to make love, knowing full well that she’d be spying on them, and would write an article that would just coincidentally make her the laughingstock of the wizarding world when the alternate version came out. But then again, I’m just guessing.” Harry smirked as McGonagall tried and failed to stifle a snicker.

She handed them one hundred points and escorted them to their potions class.


That afternoon, Rita Skeeter waltzed into the editor’s office expecting a fat raise and a windowed office. What she didn’t expect was an exceptionally angry editor, three Aurors and a smirking Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

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