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Rita Skeeter Tells All (And Then Some) by greennotebook

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1 September 2004

The Daily Prophet newsroom erupted with a high-pitched babble of excitement and a flurry of movement.

“Yes, folks. It’s exciting, but we need to move quickly,” the editor of the Daily Prophet shouted out across the office. “Listen up for your assignments. Jenkins, get the necessary press passes. Clairmont, look up past tournaments, especially the ’94-’95 event. Rigglesby, find out what you can about the Ministry’s role. Skeeter... do what you do. Claybourne? Come with me.”

Amanda Claybourne, three months out of Hogwarts, staff newbie, looked up in surprise. She really hoped it wasn’t a coffee order.

Howard Mitchell, twelve year veteran, editor for the past two years, looked impatient as he held open the door to his office. Amanda rushed inside.

“Claybourne, how many contacts do you still have at Hogwarts?” Mitchell sat at his desk and looked at her expectantly.

“Contacts?” Amanda repeated. “Er, friends, d’you mean?”

“Friends, sure. Professors, even. Who do you still talk to at Hogwarts?”

“Well, my sister’s in her fifth year,” Amanda began. Mitchell looked as though he expected more. “I have some Quidditch friends, I suppose. Why?”

“I want you to get in touch with them, find out what the speculation is. Who’s traveling to France? Who has the best marks, the best dueling skills? Who do the students want to represent them?”

“I can do that,” Amanda replied. This was more exciting than her normal tasks of reading through Magical Law Enforcement case records and local news updates. “Do you want me to ask those questions, then?”

Mitchell shrugged. “If you want. Mainly, see if you can get anyone to talk to Skeeter. She’ll be the one writing this first article, just getting interest up in Britain. You’ll work with her and maybe write an update or two later. Get on with it, though!”

Amanda’s heat sank. Rita Skeeter, thirty year veteran, gossip queen, was the reason Amanda Claybourne had gotten into journalism. Specifically, Amanda hoped to run Ms. Skeeter out of business. Amanda could not stand the manipulative way Skeeter wrote and how damaging and hateful her articles were.

Still, as Amanda sent off an owl with letters to her sister and some former Quidditch teammates, she was hopeful. This Triwizard Tournament could be her big break. Hogwarts had been notoriously closed to media personnel ever since it was rebuilt following the battle that had been fought her first year. If the headmistress was going to grant anyone access to the students, it would most likely be Amanda. A prefect, Amanda had proven herself trust-worthy. She was still in correspondence with Professor Sprout, her head of house. Surely she could beg for a press pass. If all went well, Amanda might just be able to get a byline on a story that wasn’t about Mrs. Hornsby and her prize-winning Flutterby bushes.


3 September 2004

Amanda sat at her desk, staring at the crumpled newspaper in front of her. The headline was printed boldly across the top of the front page: Triwizard Tournament Announced, Speculation Abounds.

The article was by Rita Skeeter.

Amanda was right, and the headmistress had granted the Prophet access contingent on Amanda being the interviewer. It had been her lucky break until Rita Skeeter came with her to Hogwarts and did some unofficial questioning of her own. Amanda had written up a preliminary draft of her article when Mitchell told her not to bother. Rita had already completed a compelling story.

“All nonsense,” Amanda muttered to herself, smoothing out the page to read it again. “‘Last time, the first task was dragons; rumours claim that this year, champions will face chimaeras.’” She rolled her eyes. “‘Fifth year Ashley Dermot has begun a protest against the headmistress’s plan to take only students who are legally adults with her to Beauxbatons. ‘I know I can sneak my name into the Goblet,’ the spunky blonde proclaimed. ‘If Harry Potter could compete, then so can I!’ This reporter must say, if anyone could live up to Potter’s heroic reputation, this vivacious young witch certainly stands a chance.’”

The whole thing would be easier to take if Britain hadn’t responded with such fervor to Rita’s article. The Daily Prophet had been flooded with excited letters, some encouraging the Hogwarts students planning to enter, some only encouraging rumours. Readers had been quick to jump onto Ashley Dermot’s bandwagon, alleging ageism, conspiracy, and who knows what else. There had been a few plaintive letters questioning Rita Skeeter’s involvement and whether she could really be trusted to report the Tournament accurately. Even those readers, however, were excited to hear of the possibility of chimaeras. One thing was certain; the Triwizard Tournament was making a splash.

It was doing so without Amanda’s assistance. Once more, Amanda crumpled up the newspaper. She returned to the press release from the Godric’s Hollow Muggle Relations Committee on the topic of lawn care and magical secrecy.


20 October 2004

“Claybourne, I have a job for you.” Howard Mitchell stood above Amanda’s desk. “Once more, the headmistress has requested that you be the reporter to cover the Triwizard developments. She’s going to let you sit with the Hogwarts students at the Halloween banquet when the Goblet of Fire announces the champions.”

Amanda laughed in excitement. She had been sure she had lost out on her Triwizard chance. “When do I leave?” she asked the editor.

“You and Skeeter will travel to Beauxbatons with the Hogwarts students on the evening of the 30th and Floo back immediately after the banquet. What’s the long face for?” Mitchell finished, exasperated.

“Rita’s coming too?”

“Of course she is,” Mitchell said bluntly. “You’ll be working together on this story. She’s the name people expect to see when it comes to Triwizard news.”

“Oh,” Amanda said lamely.

Rita herself came over the moment Mitchell left. “Well, aren’t you lucky, Miss Claybourne! Not only do you have an in with the Hogwarts staff, but you get to work with me. Sharpen up your Quick-Quotes Quill!”

“The headmistress won’t let us use a Quick-Quotes Quill,” Amanda replied sullenly, glad to know something Skeeter didn’t. “Students have complained about them in the past.”

“Oh, I can’t imagine why!” Rita exclaimed. “Why, Harry Potter had absolutely no objection when I used mine to interview him during the last Tournament. In fact, we developed a great friendship while it scribbled away.”

“That’s rubbish,” Amanda replied. “Potter refuses to talk to you.”

Rita shrugged, not looking abashed in the slightest. “His wife is jealous, and with that baby she just had, he must humour her. The exclusive interview he gave me on Voldemort’s return should certainly prove our relationship.”

Amanda could care less. “Whatever,” she replied. “Just don’t go causing trouble this time. I fear the headmistress thinks less of me. I rather hope she doesn’t associate me with you.”

“I don’t imagine you need to worry about such things,” Rita stated coldly. “Just get me into Beauxbatons and stay out of my way.”

“Agreed,” Amanda replied. “Just stay out of mine.”


1 November 2004

“Skeeter and Claybourne, get in here now!” Howard Mitchell’s voice boomed across the newsroom.

Amanda dropped the transcript of Sarah Miller’s hearing on allegations of illegal cross-breeding between various hazardous plants and scurried into Mitchell’s office. Rita sauntered in a minute later.

“Now, I have two write-ups here on the selection of champions last night,” the editor began slowly, his fist clenched around the previously-mentioned articles. “This is unfortunate, as I have space for exactly one article. Luckily, Archie Spenser was able to write up one article using the information contributed by you two. I’m sure we’ll be able to squeeze your names into the bottom of the article. Perhaps, though, you would like to explain the series of events that led to Spenser’s byline?”

Amanda glared at the floor as Rita squawked indignantly. “Archie Spenser hasn’t been on this paper’s staff half as long as I have! What was wrong with my article?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Amanda muttered, still glaring at the floor. “Maybe all the pernicious lies you made up about those chosen, those not chosen and anyone else in the vicinity?” She looked up to face Mitchell. “My article was to the point, informative and interesting. Can’t you just use it?”

Rita glared at Amanda now, but before she could speak, Mitchell held up his hands. “Look, ladies. Amanda’s the one with the press pass and Rita’s the one with the experience. You have to work together, which I clearly told you before you went to France. I don’t care which of you gets the byline, so stop squabbling about it. Work together on the champion interview article, hand me one article with both of your names on it, and then I will publish it.”

Both women stared at him, their jaws hanging slightly open. Amanda abruptly shut her mouth and ground her teeth together. Rita opened her mouth to protest, but once again, Mitchell cut her off.

“Get out of my office, the both of you.”

Amanda wished she had her own office in which to seclude herself. Unfortunately, she had a desk in the very middle of the chaotic newsroom. She ducked under a flock of flying memos and flopped down into her chair. Rita, who did have her own office, followed Amanda. This did nothing to improve Amanda’s mood.

“Would you please just leave me alone?” Amanda asked through still-clenched teeth.

“None of that, Miss Claybourne,” Rita chided, a smile plastered on her face. “I am simply here to offer my assistance.”

“Assistance?”

“I’ve been a journalist for longer than your parents have been married, Miss Claybourne. You can write well; you even have a sort of style. There’s a lot of potential. Let me guide you a little and not only can we write the best article Mitchell’s ever seen, but you can be well on your way to being my successor. I can be your beloved mentor.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested in making up scandals,” Amanda replied, snorting.

“I don’t make up scandals, Miss Claybourne,” Rita sneered. “I find them. I may exaggerate them, I may choose to feature only a specific and pointed viewpoint, but I write starting from facts. As long as someone despises someone else, and I promise you, everyone is despised by someone, there is scandal to be found.”

Amanda’s face scrunched up. “You certainly don’t stick to the facts,” she said. “You make lots up!”

Rita shrugged, unconcerned. “I do. Details, opinions, perspectives, sources” but the facts! The meaty, sordid facts are real.”

“No, they’re not!” Amanda insisted, her face turning red. “You’re just a liar. You don’t tell the truth unless you’ve got a wand to your head.”

Rita Skeeter laughed out loud. “You silly girl!” She perched herself on the edge of Amanda’s desk. “We don’t sell papers to tell the truth. We give the people facts. It’s not the same thing at all.”

Amanda really wished she had an office, if only so she could eject Rita.

Preferably forcefully.


3 November 2004

“Why do I have to work with her?”

“Claybourne, you’re barely out of Hogwarts,” Howard Mitchell began incredulously. “The Triwizard Tournament is the biggest story we’ve had in years. You’re only on the story because of your connections to Hogwarts. There’s no way you’re taking it on your own!”

“No,” Amanda protested. “I get that. What I mean is, why her specifically?”

The editor sighed, setting down his clipboard and looking Amanda in the eye. “Look, I sympathize with you. Skeeter’s not the easiest woman to work with, and Merlin knows she’s hard to like. Still, she’s the best we’ve got. She can always tell when there’s something more, and she has that way of telling stories that gets anyone’s attention, grudging or no. She might not live up to your young, enthusiastic ideals, but probably very few of us do.”

Amanda made a face. “It’s not that hard to just tell things the way they are.”

“No,” Mitchell agreed complacently. “It’s not, which is why we hire young upstarts like you to do it. Problem is people don’t want to read about things just the way they are, especially not things like the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament has mystery, glamour, danger” people want legends, not just a news update! That’s Skeeter’s specialty. She’s something of a Triwizard institution after that last Tournament, and people are clamouring to get her insights and opinions. The point of this article is to get people excited and patriotic. However much you dislike it, Claybourne, you can learn a lot from Skeeter.”

“But she’s so nasty,” Amanda continued dejectedly.

“Well, throw some of your idealism into the mix, Claybourne. See what you get.” Mitchell picked up his clipboard and turned away, clearly ending the conversation.

Rita walked up then, barely pausing to glance at Amanda before moving toward the Floo. “Coming?”

The two of them were off to France to interview the champions. Once again, Amanda was the official interviewer, with the headmistress’s approval, but Rita was the writer with the Prophet’s approval.

When they arrived at Beauxbatons and began the walk to the room in which they would interview the champions, Rita began to fuss. “Now, for heaven’s sake, don’t ask such boring questions this time. Ask about their fears, their hopes, which champions catch their eyes. The girl from Beauxbatons is attractive, no?”

“How on earth would I know?” Amanda exclaimed, fervently hoping their French guide didn’t speak English. “I’m here to write about the Triwizard Tournament, not a beauty contest.”

“Yes, but our readers already know about how the Tournament works. They want to know the champions themselves, every last detail.”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “How is the attractiveness of the Beauxbatons candidate possibly pertinent?”

“Come, come, don’t you know the story of the last Beauxbatons champion?” Rita’s eyebrows arched in surprise.

“Err, she lost, didn’t she?” Amanda was taken aback. “Came in absolutely last place after the second task and had to be rescued during the third.”

Rita sighed. “Not that story, darling. I’m talking about how she met her husband.” Seeing no sign of recognition in Amanda’s eyes, Rita brightened and launched into the tale. “She was a part-Veela named Fleur Something-or-other. She was gorgeous, if too snobby for my likes. She ended up catching the eye of the oldest Weasley boy, who had come to stand in for Potter’s family during the final task. Well, the two of them made friends, started working together, got married a few years later and played a crucial role in the resistance during the war. Now, that’s a story I foreshadowed, all because I saw the French girl liked the Weasley’s boy’s earring.”

“That’s interesting and all, but what on earth does it have to do with the Tournament?” Amanda asked, curious despite her better judgment.

“Why does it have to have something to do with the Tournament? It’s love and intrigue and the potential of death! She was in the Tournament, and that’s good enough. Imagine if you can catch that sort of idea today!” Rita’s eyes were sparkling as she thought of the possibilities.

Amanda thought of what Mitchell had told her earlier. She still had her doubts. “I don’t think I can ask Alexander Grant what he thinks about the Beauxbatons champion’s looks without feeling silly.”

“Then you are silly.” Rita’s eyes narrowed as the two reporters drew up to the classroom containing the three students. “Look, just let me ask the questions on your behalf and write the article myself. You’ll see what kind of writing is possible.”

Amanda shook her head stubbornly. “No, I’m sorry, but I get to write this one and it’s going to be a piece of serious journalism.”

Rita Skeeter sighed in exasperation and glared at Amanda before following her into the classroom.


4 November 2004

“Look, Miss Claybourne, really,” Rita pleaded. “Amanda, please just read this.”

“I have read it!” Amanda cried in exasperation. “It’s full of wild speculation and unfortunate comparisons of this year’s champions with the champions of ten years ago. I’m not attaching my name to that. Read mine.”

“I tried,” Rita sneered, “But it’s so dry that I had to stop for a drink two paragraphs in. It completely obliterates any sense of excitement about the Tournament.”

“Well, your article is so frivolous that it ignores all of the seriousness of the competition. These students could die!”

“You wouldn’t know that from your article either!” Rita cried. “Where’s the grandeur? Where’s the excitement, the fear?”

“At least I have all facts! Everything I wrote can be proved true, which is more than I can say about your section on the purported love affair between Alex and that Beauxbatons girl, Thérèse.”

“Didn’t you see the way he looked at her? She’s not as stunning as Fleur, but she’s hardly unattractive. This Tournament has all the makings of an epic tale, but you keep writing about it as though it were a country fair. I suppose that’s all you know how to write about,” Rita finished, sneering.

Amanda pretended to ignore the slight, but she recalled what Mitchell had told her earlier. Rita was a Triwizard institution herself. She had the unique insights the wizarding population of Britain clamoured to read. Amanda really wanted to get a byline that had nothing to do with country fairs, Flutterby bushes or gardening in any way, shape or form. Still, Amanda could not stand to have Rita Skeeter write up even more rubbish. Then, she suddenly realized what she could do.

“Rita? I have an idea...”


5 November 2004

Amanda sat at her desk, sending off an autographed copy of her first front-page byline to her grandmother. Her name seemed to pop out below the headline, which stood boldly at the top of the page.

“Rita Skeeter Tells All (And Then Some): Legend, Fact and the Triwizard Tournament,” Amanda read. “Now there’s a story.”