A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 462: Birthday Gift

Rita Skeeter had her own schemes.

Her knack for stirring trouble while keeping herself afloat stemmed from knowing what not to report and whom to avoid offending. An interesting fact emerged from this: different people valued different things, and the same person prioritized things differently.

She could cover the opulent extravagance and societal standing of the Malfoy family but refrained from delving into their connection to Muggle royalty and their dark history with Death Eaters. She’d employ cutting words to paint Dumbledore as a “stuffy old lunatic” but steered clear of his forbidden friendships of yesteryears or the loss of his loved ones.

Unless they were no longer around.

Her unique grasp of news formed her distinct reporting style, earning her a loyal following in the wizarding world. Yet, her luck had taken a nosedive in the last couple of years.

The first tumble occurred two years back when she misjudged a low-profile wizard, assuming she could offend without consequences, only to face repercussions.

The second, also two years prior, was when that bumbling Lockhart stumbled upon her secret about illegal Animagi. She resorted to Obliviating her troubles away, only to realize Lockhart was a true Legilimens. Her inadequate Memory Charm couldn’t hold him for long, prompting her swift report to the Ministry.

Though her reputation worsened, she escaped with a mere fine.

The third fiasco involved her ambitious piece, “Diverging from the Black Terror.” Ever since her rival and personal nuisance landed in Azkaban, she contemplated a high-impact book, intertwining Dumbledore’s endorsement and the heritage of Regulus Black, an ancient pure-blood with a hidden past as a former Death Eater!

She cared less if it was true; the story had a selling point, especially since both protagonists were deceased.

The only hurdle was the sole heir of the Black family, Sirius Black. If not for his cleared name, she wouldn’t dare. But since his innocence was proven, she felt less threatened. The last scion of an ancient pure-blood family, leaving home at 16 without inheriting any connections—what was there to fear?

In her mind, Sirius Black must have been busy reclaiming family glory.

Things spiraled out of control when Sirius incessantly sent her howler letters, followed by rumors of the Dark Lord’s loyal lapdog rising from the dead, escaping custody. It terrified and infuriated her. When had Azkaban become a sieve?

Damn Bartemius Crouch! Both of them!

She probed relentlessly, using every connection, only to discover a terrifying truth. Even resorting to an elusive source, she confronted a Ministry official whose expression resembled that of a corpse.

She made a bold move, aligning herself with the most powerful wizard she could reach, Felix Harp, offering years’ worth of gathered covert information.

Finally learning who she’d offended—an array of possibilities had crossed her mind, suspecting even sainthood but never imagining it was someone deceased.

A servant faking death, a master doing the same. What a peculiar penchant!

Despite Harp’s assurances, she feared becoming bait. After weighing her options, she decided to disappear for a while, using book writing as an excuse, moving quietly to a Muggle community, cutting ties with the magical world temporarily.

During a stroll, she stumbled upon a newsstand and found a Muggle newspaper that oddly suited her taste. Despite disliking the third edition, she used some “skills” to secure a role as an intern reporter.

After a few successful attempts, she became the standout intern under the chief editor, with a promotion to an official reporter imminent. She had no intention of relinquishing this role, planning to convince the poorly dressed chief editor to grant her some autonomy.

On that morning, Rita Skeeter left the headquarters of The Daily Prophet. Promising a substantial piece each month, she gained flexibility in her working hours.

By noon, she returned to Diagon Alley.

Rita Skeeter took a deep breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. On her way back to The Daily Prophet, she noticed various posters covering Diagon Alley, even masking Bartemius Crouch Jr.’s wanted poster.

Expressionless, she stared at over a dozen figures on the posters—champions of the tournament. She was familiar with them, having covered the wand checks and the first task. Yet, evidently, something significant had occurred, unbeknownst to her.

Half an hour later, at The Daily Prophet’s headquarters, she learned the details from the photographer’s assistant.

The second task!

The magical projector!

And, of course, Ancient Runes!

Having spent two months at The Sun, Rita Skeeter understood what a projector was and even grasped the operations of the ‘Future World’ company.

“These kids are getting quite famous, aren’t they?” She adjusted her curly hair and asked.

“Rita, you’ve missed out on a fortune!” her photographer exclaimed.

Rita Skeeter glanced at him from behind her jeweled glasses. “Oh, Bazzo… News never lacks. I’ve done something more important.”

“So, uh, what’s your plan now?”

“Of course, I’m going to get a piece of it!” Rita Skeeter said, pulling out a dark green pen and a shorthand notebook from her crocodile-skin bag. The photographer was surprised by her new gear. Rita Skeeter casually shifted the Slytherin serpent ring on her finger, revealing a green circle.

“Hurry up!” she commanded sternly. “Don’t tell me you’ve done nothing these days! Show me all the photos you’ve taken!”

…

Meanwhile, Felix stared at the package delivered by an owl.

It was a birthday gift.

He gently unwrapped it, finding a birthday card and a cake inside. After checking for any magical traces and finding none, he opened the card. The greeting was brief, signed with a simple name, Jean, without a surname.

“Weird… Did I mention my birthday? And a week late, no less…” Felix murmured. His birthday was on April 8th, but it was already the 15th. The owl with the post office band had flown away, indicating no need for a reply.

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