Chapter 639

As the Christmas season approached, there is a heavy festive atmosphere everywhere, whether it is wizarding society or muggle society, and people’s faces are on the verge of overflowing with joy. And just as the people were preparing for the festive season, journalists from The Sun were sitting together in a conference room, deliberating on New Year’s Day topics.

“Rita,” a short, fat man asked, “how’s your article coming along?”

“It’s already complete,” Rita Skeeter blurted out, pulling a stack of printouts from her crocodile bag, “I’ve dug up an absolute slam dunk.” She glanced at the others in the room and said triumphantly, “There is evidence that the government is systematically covering up the damage done to the population by mad cow disease!”

“Is that true.” The short, fat executive said dryly, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his sweaty forehead as he accepted Rita’s news article. He flipped through the pages absent-mindedly, looked at them, and then looked up and said in a deep voice, “I’m sorry, Rita, but your article won’t be published.”

“Why?” Rita Skeeter raised her voice, and the pen that kept spinning in her hand came to a sudden halt.

“There’s no reason. I admit that you are very talented and have been on a winning streak for a while, but …” The man moved his body uneasily and his chair made a heavy creaking sound.

Rita Skeeter watched him carefully for a while.

“Oh—” she stretched her voice, “I understand. Well, I’ll quit.”

The short, stocky man looked at her in both amazement and surprise, his impression of this woman is that she has always had a keen sense of smell, like a tireless hound chasing after its prey, brutal and ferocious. This was an overwhelming compliment.

“I thought-”

“Thought what? That I would hold on to it for dear life?” Rita Skeeter scowled, “I have confidence in my professional abilities, even if my efforts on the mad cow disease series went down the drain, I still have confidence that I can find new material. Unlike the rest of them.” She glanced at the corner.

At the long desk, several other journalists glared at her, but Rita Skeeter merely returned a contemptuous look. She had already figured out the routine, and now she is like a fish in water.

Sure enough, the short, fat man showered her with compliments.

“That’s wonderful, Rita! I dare to say that recruiting you was the best decision I’ve ever made, so let’s see, what’s the latest hot news …” He struck while the iron was hot and was ready to give her a new assignment, “What are you going to do for Christmas?”

Rita Skeeter thought for a moment and said, ” I think I’ll take a few days off.” She planned to go to the Ministry of Magic to find Amelia Bones to sell her misery; the last few months had worn her out, as she was juggling between her work on the Sun and her participation in the Daily Prophet articles, and it was clear that she had no intention of giving up on either side – it was all mostly fabrication anyway.

She left the small window on the first floor of the house she rented in Muggle society to always remain open, allowing owls to come and go at night.

The short, stocky man blinked, “In that case -”

“How about giving me the divorce news on that crown princess?” Rita Skeeter volunteered, ” I am sure I can dig up more eye-catching inside stories.” After months of working together, they knew that when she said ‘investigate’, she had actually meant ‘making up’.

Most of her co-workers were rather impressed by her ability to investigate.

“No!” An exquisitely makeup-ed blonde snapped angrily, “I’ve been in charge of this for a long period of time, and I can’t just quit halfway.”

“Oh, Melissa.” Rita Skeeter looked at her with contempt in his eyes, “After all this time you haven’t produced any results, maybe you’re not cut out for it.” The ‘Melissa’ glared at her furiously, grinding her teeth as if she is ready to swallow her whole and tear her apart.

The short, fat supervisor thought about it for a moment; although Melissa wasn’t as efficient as Rita Skeeter, she was nevertheless a capable person under his command, and she couldn’t be completely side-lined. He neither wanted the relationship between the two to be too friendly nor did he want the conflict to become irreconcilable and interfere with their work.

“Tell you what, Rita,” he said with a final pat on the back, “you can follow up on the whole gun control bill thing.”

Rita Skeeter’s eyes lit up.

However, she did not rush to agree, and asked calmly, “How far can I cover in this?”

“Whatever you want.” The short, stocky man said, “This whole thing is pretty much risk-free now, the new gun control bill is a foregone conclusion, after all the widespread movement to get a gun ban launched by the families of the victims from the shooting earlier in the year has had a deep impact, although it has died down a bit recently … I have received information that the results could be out in the next year or two. ”

“Wait, we could totally get a piece of the pie.” Rita Skeeter said immediately, nibbling on the pen in her hand like a quill, as inspiration burst forth, “We could do a series of articles around this whole issue.”

There was a cold laugh echoed in the room.

“Excuse me?” Rita Skeeter asked coldly.

Melissa gave a mocking smile, as she brushed her hair back until she felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her, then she said nonchalantly, “Do you need me to remind you? It’s been nine months since the school shooting, and every news media outlet has already discussed it from every angle, so it’s not worth wasting our precious Christmas pages.”

The middle-aged fat executive looked hesitant as he turned his head to look at Rita Skeeter.

Rita Skeeter slammed her pen down on the table and wrapped her arm in her other arm, her long, dazzling green fingernails prominently highlighted, “That’s why some people are only worthy of investigating low-level reports such as extramarital affairs, but still have not achieved anything until now. Use your head right now, this is an opportunity! The government is preparing a new bill, the people are busy with the New Year, and although it hasn’t been investigated yet, I dare to assert that the campaign to ban handguns will not receive much attention for the next month or two …”

“If at this time, we can launch a series of exclusive articles over Christmas, linking peace and massacres, New Year and shootings, and making a big deal out of it … the buzz will be reignited, hopefully, it will last until the new bill is introduced, at which point we can absolutely claim that the implementation of the new bill and our hard efforts are inextricably linked.”

She sneered twice at Melissa and looked over at the fat man.

“Why do we need to choose Christmas? Because it’s the only way to differentiate ourselves when all the other papers are busy covering Christmas and New Year’s Eve, that’s the differentiator. It allows readers to recognize us at a glance!” She leaned over and stared at the short, middle-aged man, “What do you think, Mr. Editor-in-Chief?”

The editor-in-chief swallowed and said with a stern face, “We’re only an entertainment paper, if the subject matter gets too serious-”

“You can rest assured about that, I’ll be using a completely new narrative.” Rita Skeeter retracted her body back and said confidently, “And I have my own take and opinion regarding the word ‘entertainment’ -”

She said sweetly, “The most important thing in a newspaper is sales. Beyond that, the subject matter is not important, the format is not important, the content is not important, even the truth -” she raised an eyebrow and offered an unspoken smile.

There was a round of applause at the door. A woman with a serious face walked in and no one was aware of how much of their discussion she had heard before.

“You’re Rita Skeeter? That name is so hot right now that my ears are getting calloused.”

“You are?” Rita Skeeter asked without moving, catching a faint whiff of menthol smoke, a smell she had only ever caught at the door of that office, which was always closed tight and never once open.

The short, stocky supervisor winked at her desperately and gestured. The woman didn’t answer, but looked Rita Skeeter up and down, “I’ve been away from the office for the last few months, but I’ve been reading an ongoing series of your articles, mocking the government to the point of wretchedness – but who made the readers just love that.”

Rita Skeeter asked in a pleasant tone, “So you’re going to give me a promotion?”

The short, fat executive glared at her from behind, a shameful betrayal. But Rita Skeeter was ready to climb the corporate ladder, and she stared unblinkingly at the woman who had suddenly appeared, and laughed heartily, “Why not?” She looked at Rita Skeeter with indifference. “My time is limited, so there is only one interview question, if I want to increase the sales of the newspaper by another twenty thousand copies, what do you suggest I should do?”

Rita Skeeter clenched her fist, “Raise the distinctiveness of the paper.”

“Distinctiveness? Be specific.”

“In that point, we’re already ahead of the game, like the third page featuring the women’s … but it’s not nearly enough, we have to differentiate ourselves from other papers in every way – even if it’s wrong, it has to be the only one. We can sometimes even deliberately go against the flow of our readers, but of course … only a true expert can manage the subtle differences in between.”

The woman narrowed her eyes and asked with interest, “You consider yourself as that true expert?”

“Without a doubt.” Rita Skeeter said cheekily.

There was a moment of silence. The woman nodded towards her, “You’ll be one of our Deputy Chief Editor from now on.”

Rita Skeeter, who had just been promoted, breezed back to her office and ordered her two assistants, “Get all the news that can be found on the Dunblane school mass shootings through this year, now! Including the list of victims, the philosophy and demands of the gun ban campaign groups, the pronouncements of government departments on the matter, the list of government drafters of the gun bill, and the rumours that were going around… I want all of them! And – buy me a train ticket to Scotland from the local station.”

Two days later, Rita Skeeter arrived in the town where the shooting took place and personally convinced several of the victims’ families to give interviews.

She offered a good deal – The Sun sells enough copies to create hype, plus she promised to publish a series of articles to help them put pressure on the government – and the families agreed after little thought.

They also used their connections to get Rita Skeeter to strut her weight around the campus where the shooting took place.

Rita Skeeter interviewed a few random teachers and came up with no less than 10,000 words of spicy coverage in her head, but she still was not satisfied, wanting to find a tricky enough angle that would be shocking without seeming too out of place in the New Year.

As she walked, her stray gaze fixed on the students. She came up with a great idea.

“Hey, little guy.” She greeted a boy with a fake kindness, “What’s your name?”

“Andy, Andy Murray.” The young boy who looked to be eight or nine years old said as she eyed him.

“Oh Andy, Andy,” she repeated twice, pulling out her press pass and waving it in front of him, and asking in a pompous manner, “Can I interview you alone?”

“I’ve got to go to tennis practice.” Andy Murray said.

“Just in time, that’s what I’m here for.” Rita Skeeter lied, glancing quickly at the tennis bag the boy is carrying over his shoulder with a smile, “I spoke to your teacher, and she told me you’re very talented.”

“It’s ‘he’.” The boy corrected.

“What?”

“My PE teacher, it’s ‘he’.” The boy emphasized, then shot her a suspicious look.

“I may have misremembered.” Rita Skeeter said apologetically, although there was no hint of anything related to shame that could be found on her face, “So – let’s talk about paying little ball, tennis, geez, that’s a roundabout word.”

The young boy glared at her, displeased with the woman who had appeared out of nowhere and blasphemed about tennis. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, I just said the wrong word, do you know how much material I read before I came here?” She gestured at her thick glasses, “When did you first start to play tennis?”

“… Three years old.” The young boy said after a long stand-off.

Rita Skeeter was a little surprised. “So I’ve caught a little genius casually?” She grinned, “Well, I should put you on my watch list for another interview in a few years, what would be a good title? The Birth of a Genius … or The Fall of a Genius? It’s really something to look forward to.”

The young boy left indignantly, but Rita Skeeter held his wrist with a death grip. As the argument was going strong, the teacher from the school appeared.

“What are you doing here! Who are you? Oh, Ms. Skeeter-” the female teacher was surprised.

“It’s me,” Rita Skeeter said in a lighter tone as she released her grip, “I ran into little Andy while I was wandering around the school grounds, but he was in a hurry to get to the gym to play ball … and there was a little misunderstanding. ”

The female teacher looked at her and then at the young boy who is rubbing his wrist and her tone cooled down, “I think that might not be the reason, Andy … Andy wouldn’t have wanted to go to the gym.”

“Why do you say that?” Rita Skeeter froze for a moment, she wasn’t sure what had gone wrong but she quickly thought of the crux of the matter, “Because that shooting happened in the gym?” She looked at Andy with wide eyes and said in disbelief, “He was one of the people who happened to be there?”

“That’s right,” the female teacher said coldly, “Since then Andy usually only goes to the playground to play tennis, and the school is planning to build a new sports centre.”

Rita Skeeter cursed at her blunder in her mind.

“I-” She opened her mouth in an attempt to remedy the situation.

“I am sorry, Ms. Skeeter, but please leave the premises or I will have to call security.” The female teacher said in a firm tone.

Rita Skeeter’s face turned blue and white for a moment, and she reached into her crocodile purse several times, but she gave up the idea of taking out her wand. Her wand had been re-traced because she had been hired by the Ministry of Magic, and any magic she used during the year would be known to the woman sitting in the Minister’s office.

Damn it.

“Well, I’m sorry about that.” She said with a shrug, turning to leave.

As she walked out of the school, Rita Skeeter mentally pondered over various ideas, the information she had gotten so far was more or less the same, today was just an added bonus. But she always felt that there was something missing, what was it? She glanced back over her shoulder, the female teacher was crouching down to gently reassure the young boy, but the boy had a stubborn look on his face.

Tennis ball, little boy … she mused over it.

‘Count yourselves lucky.’ Rita Skeeter said coldly in her mind as she made another ten-hour train trip back to The Sun’s premises, and it didn’t take that long for her to write a one-sheet article in a single stroke.

“… Even after nine months, my new friend Andy still can’t get over his fear and he cried bitterly in front of me, confessing his heartbreak at the loss of his playmate and revealing that they had agreed to play tennis together and be friends and rivals forever, but it all came to naught. His parents couldn’t even deceive him with a well-intentioned lie, as young Andy was a first-hand witness to that tragedy and saw his companion, with whom he had made a lifelong pact, fall before his eyes …”

“I know some will mention the Hungerford shooting in 1987, and yes, that time the government responded swiftly by announcing a ban on semi-automatic rifles the following year and placing restrictions on the ownership of handguns, but it is far from enough!”

“Are we really going to turn a blind eye to the tragedy that has once again returned after a mere nine years, and this time it is even worse because 16 of the 17 people killed were children? The fact that the killer was in possession of four handguns ‘issued and licensed’ by the government at the time of the murder means that there are still huge loopholes in the way we regulate firearms and I implore government officials who are busy planning holidays or preparing for the New Year’s Eve parade to divide their energy towards the victims and their families who should be celebrating the New Year with as much enthusiasm as you are. Instead, their lives came to a permanent halt in March 1996.”

“… The only way we can make the right choice is by showing greater determination and courage, with a sense of responsibility … With the encouragement of the journalist, young Andy has regained his vigour once again and stated that he will never give up tennis. Ladies and Gentlemen, a great star is rising, and his future is bright, with endless possibilities. But please don’t forget that if we remain indifferent, little Andy will be under threat from guns for days and nights in the years to come …”

In an office, which had been quiet for some time, a lady’s cigarette was burning quietly.

“Well?” Rita Skeeter asked, narrowing her eyes.

The woman who had a serious look on her face earlier tore off a piece of paper and scribbled quickly, and after a moment she pushed the note and the news release in front of Rita Skeeter. Then she took a deep puff on her cigarette and exhaled a minty smoke ring.

“Your new office is ready.”

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[Author:]

In case some readers may have doubts, I would like to add the following;

1. This chapter is simply the brief history of Rita Skeeter’s rise to power because her position at the newspaper will play a key role in the subsequent plot, so a chapter is devoted to it (I didn’t think when I wrote it that it would reach approximately 3,120 words).

2. There were several major events has happened in 1996 in British reality: the mad cow disease outbreak, Princess Diana’s divorce, and the Dunblane massacre. Andy Murray was an actual witness and survivor of the shooting at the age of less than nine, in addition to being known for his great achievements in tennis. Of course, the so-called best friend or pact or some other thing was all fabricated by Rita Skeeter, just like she fabricated about Harry in the original.

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