When they arrived at Care of Magical Creatures class that day, it wasn't Hagrid standing before them, but an unfamiliar witch. She was an old woman with white hair and a protruding chin, and her name was apparently Grubbly-Plank.
Her lesson was perfectly normal—the very picture of what a Care of Magical Creatures class should be. The students, who had grown weary of Hagrid's chaotic lessons, especially those involving the Blast-Ended Skrewts, were delighted and completely engrossed in the class.
"I wonder what happened to Hagrid."
"Who knows. Personally, I wouldn't mind if things stayed this way," Mirabel said, stroking the soft mane of a unicorn in response to Edith's worried tone. For all her imperious nature, Mirabel had a soft spot for beautiful creatures like this one. She scratched its throat, and it gave a contented whinny, nuzzling its face against her.
"Professor Grubbly-Plank said Hagrid wasn't feeling well and couldn't teach. But I wonder what's wrong with him?"
It was Harry who had cut into their conversation. The class was still a joint one with Gryffindor, and Harry and Hermione often came over to talk to Edith. Or rather, the truth was that Edith was the only person in Slytherin they could talk to, but that was a minor detail.
"Don't tell me a Skrewt…"
"If you think he was attacked, you're wrong, Reinagle."
The one to interrupt Edith, who had been about to suggest the most likely possibility, was Malfoy. During joint classes, Malfoy invariably sought out Harry to bother him. This had led to the peculiar, and now familiar, sight of Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy all gathering around where Edith and Mirabel were.
"He's just too ashamed to show his big, ugly face."
"What are you talking about?"
"Here. I'd hate to be the one to tell you this, Potter," Malfoy said with a smirk, tossing a newspaper to Harry.
Harry immediately opened it, and his jaw dropped as he read the article. It was filled with page after page of slander directed at Hagrid. In summary, it claimed that 'Dumbledore has a history of making problematic appointments,' that 'Hagrid, who unleashes creatures like Blast-Ended Skrewts on students, is unfit to be a teacher,' that 'the students are terrified,' and that 'Hagrid is a dangerous half-giant.'
Mirabel read over his shoulder, thinking with cold detachment that it was about ninety percent true.
"'We all hate Hagrid'? What is that supposed to mean?! And this one—his finger was badly bitten by a Flobberworm? That's rubbish, they don't even have teeth!" Harry shouted angrily, slamming the paper onto the ground.
The article included quotes from an interview with Malfoy, who had given the false testimony: 'I was attacked by a Hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a nasty bite on the finger from a Flobberworm.'
Malfoy just smirked at Harry's fury and turned to Mirabel. Edith noticed and tried to stop him, but she was too late. Malfoy had already uttered another needless provocation.
"What do you think, Beresford? Am I wrong about any of it?"
Edith slapped a hand to her forehead. Oh, honestly. Mirabel wasn't exactly a firm ally of Harry's and couldn't care less about Hagrid. He should have just left it alone. Why did he have to poke the bear?
As expected, Mirabel gave him a bored glance and stated coldly, "Potter's right. Your testimony was the one unnecessary part."
"What?"
"Flobberworms do not bite fingers. That's a fact even a child with a little experience in animal care would know. That single sentence undermines the credibility of the entire article."
The article was ninety percent factual. Dumbledore's poor judgment in hiring was evident from his choices of Lockhart and Trelawney, and Hagrid's lack of teaching aptitude was plain to see from the students who were now so happily engaged in the lesson. But Malfoy's testimony was superfluous. By brazenly including one easily disprovable lie, he had made all the other facts seem suspect as well.
Harry grinned as if he'd just won a major victory.
"Thanks, Malfoy, for giving testimony in Hagrid's favor!"
"Wha—!"
"Thanks to you, more people will think this article is a lie. I appreciate it."
Malfoy's face turned bright red at Harry's sarcasm, but he couldn't think of a comeback and stalked away. Watching him go, Edith felt a pang of pity. He should just give it up already. What on earth was it that drove him to keep doing this?
"Still, I wonder how she found out Hagrid's a half-giant," Harry said with disgust, stomping on the newspaper on the ground.
It was true that Hagrid was a half-giant. Harry had heard it from Hagrid's own mouth, and Hagrid had said Madame Maxime was one as well. But there shouldn't have been anyone else there to hear it.
"Who knows. Rita Skeeter… for all her ignorance, her information-gathering skills seem to be the real deal," Mirabel said, her interest piqued as she continued to stroke the unicorn.
Skeeter's ability to gather information without anyone noticing was something worth acknowledging. She was the kind of person Mirabel wouldn't mind adding to her collection of pawns.
After that, the class proceeded without any further trouble and was dismissed once most of the students were satisfied. It was obvious which lesson—Hagrid's or this one—the students preferred.
Harry had passed the first task in the lead. However, his lead was slim, and it wouldn't be surprising if he were overtaken soon. He needed to figure out the second task immediately and start preparing. The clue to the next task was contained within the golden egg he had won. But when opened, the egg only emitted an ear-splitting, unintelligible shriek, making it utterly useless. The champions were required to solve the egg's secret, discover the second task, and formulate a plan.
But here, Harry's bad habit emerged. For all his courage, he was still a boy of his age, with a tendency to prioritize fun. He was like a child who, with exams looming, says, "I'll start studying tomorrow," and then goes off to play. The long interval before the next task also contributed to his complacency. Even by mid-January, he hadn't solved the secret of the egg. Knowing it was wrong, he still succumbed to the temptations of Hogsmeade, procrastinating on the problem.
"The common room will finally be quiet. You should take this chance to work on it."
Hermione's point was valid. But Harry lied to her. Wanting to go to Hogsmeade so badly, he told her he was already well on his way to figuring it out.
Watching Harry waste more precious time in Hogsmeade, Mirabel was exasperated enough to consider giving him a hint. It was then that the woman appeared before her.
With garish, jewel-encrusted glasses, curly hair, a square jaw, and magenta robes, it was none other than the journalist who had written the slanderous article about Hagrid: Rita Skeeter. She had suddenly appeared before Mirabel, who was out on the grounds during lunch, and approached her with a cloying smile.
"You there, you're a Slytherin student, aren't you, dear? Might I have a moment of your time?"
"You may not."
"Oh, wonderful. Now, let's find somewhere we can talk quietly."
Ignoring Mirabel's words, Skeeter grabbed her hand and began to pull her along. Mirabel's eyebrow twitched in annoyance, but Skeeter didn't notice. She dragged Mirabel to a storage shed at the edge of the grounds, shut the door, and locked it so no one could enter from the outside.
"Now then, I have a few questions. I hear you speak often with that Gryffindor girl, Hermione Granger, is that right?"
"Often enough."
"Yes. And what's your opinion of her?"
"She is an exceptionally intelligent student. Her rigid way of thinking is a flaw, but she has the adaptability to overcome it."
Mirabel's assessment of Hermione was high. Skeeter listened with a look of displeasure as her hand moved, scribbling something on a notepad. "Slytherin student Mirabel Beresford says that Granger is a rigid and foolish student…" The words were completely different from what Mirabel had said.
Mirabel's eyes narrowed. She snatched the paper from Skeeter's hand.
"…This seems to be quite different from what I said."
"Oh, my, my, don't worry about the little details, dear. The readers enjoy it more with a little embellishment."
"In that case, you have no need for my testimony. Go talk to a wall."
With that, Mirabel carelessly tore the paper to shreds. Skeeter's eyes sharpened, and the plastered-on smile vanished from her face.
"I'm leaving. If you want information, get it from Malfoy. Not that I imagine anything that boy says would be useful."
"Don't get cocky, you stupid little girl. You'll just shut up and answer my questions."
"Oh? You've shown your true colors sooner than I expected."
Mirabel gave a mocking smile to Skeeter, who was beginning to radiate anger. One of the things Mirabel despised most was being looked down upon by others. She loved looking down on people, but hated the reverse. A selfish way of thinking, to be sure. And this woman had clearly underestimated her, assuming she was some easy target she could drag into a place like this.
It was time to educate her on who was superior.
"I can dig up any dirt I want on you, you know. I can socially assassinate you and all your little friends. I don't know anything about you being the 'Slytherin Tyrant' or whatever, but if you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut and just spit out the information I want."
"Oh? For a mere hyena who does nothing but snoop around, you have quite a mouth on you, speaking to me, Mirabel, in such a way."
"…It seems you want to make me angry. Fine, you'll regret it. I'll teach you that information is what controls people. You can cry and beg for forgiveness later, but I won't give it to you."
Skeeter placed a hand on the door, her voice menacing. This was how she had always crushed those who opposed her. She would write all sorts of things, true or not, until they couldn't walk in the light of day. Information was power. With information, you could do whatever you wanted. This little girl would be no exception. As soon as she got out of here, she would write every lie she could think of about her and ruin her life.
That was Skeeter's plan. But if there was one miscalculation she had made, it was dragging a girl named Mirabel Beresford into a room without doing her research first. She hadn't trapped Mirabel. She had willingly walked into a cage with a ferocious beast.
"Shall I help you?"
"What?"
"I said, shall I help you? If you're going to write something, an article is more impressive when it's based on facts rather than lies."
Mirabel's lips twisted into a chilling smile as she raised her arm. What? Is she regretting her actions and trying to suck up to me now? As Skeeter thought this, Mirabel's hand shot out toward her mouth…
—and broke her front teeth.
"...N-no… more… please…"
"Information controls people, you say? That's one correct answer, but my view is a little different."
Several minutes later, the inside of the storage shed had been transformed into a living hell. Blood was spattered across the walls and floor, filling the air with the smell of iron. Unconcerned, Mirabel sat perched on a nearby crate with her legs crossed. At her feet lay Rita Skeeter. Her trademark glasses were shattered, shards of glass embedded in her face, and all ten of her fingers had been snapped. Several of her teeth were missing, and her nose was bent at an unnatural angle.
Mirabel pressed her foot onto the woman's head, forcing her face, smeared with tears, snot, and drool, to kiss the floor.
"Now, in the past, and forevermore… the simplest and most efficient way to control people is through violence and fear. The powerful stand on top. Is there any law more simple and beautiful than that?"
"P-please… I'm begging you…"
At the sight of Skeeter pleading in a tear-choked voice, Mirabel's mouth twisted. She then kicked her squarely in the mouth, sending her flying into the storeroom wall. Two broken teeth flew through the air, drawing a line of blood before clattering to the floor.
"'You can cry and beg for forgiveness later, but I won't give it to you'… was that it? A rather amusing thing to say to me, Mirabel."
"Eek, eeeeeek…!"
As Mirabel slowly stood up, Skeeter, terrified, tried to crawl away on all fours, but Mirabel immediately grabbed her by the hair and slammed her face into the floor again.
"You truly are amusing. You think that I, Mirabel, would cry and beg for forgiveness from the likes of you? Don't underestimate me. I would rather die than display such a pathetic sight."
She yanked Skeeter's hair, pulling her terror-distorted face up. Rita had already lost all will to resist; she could only tremble pathetically.
"Now, say it. Who is crying and begging whom for forgiveness?"
"I-I am! I am the one… begging you… for forgiveness!" Skeeter shrieked, her face a mess of blood, tears, snot, and drool.
Hearing this, Mirabel seemed to be finally satisfied and released her hair. But this girl was not so kind as to let it end there. She took a bat's wing from her pocket and began to channel her magic into it.
"That's right. The one who always stands on top is me. I, Mirabel, am the ruler. I shall give you a reward for being clever enough to understand that."
The magically charged wing burst into flame and melded into Mirabel's fingernails. Her nails turned a shade of blue and began to squirm as if they were alive. At the grotesque sight, Skeeter let out a small scream and tried to back away, but by the time she noticed, her arm was already caught in a tight grip.
"Wh-what are you…"
"Don't be so afraid… I value your information-gathering skills. From now on, you will use that power for my sake."
With a sadist's grin, Mirabel mercilessly dug her nails into Skeeter's arm. Instantly, a pain so intense it felt like her veins were on fire shot through her arm, and Skeeter shrieked, writhing on the floor. A scream tore from the depths of her throat, and she no longer knew what she was yelling.
When the pain finally subsided, an ominous, blue nail had grown on Rita's index finger.
"That nail is a mark of servitude. Should you refuse to obey me, or should you try to cut it off, it will turn from blue to purple, and then to a blood-red. When that happens, it's over for you. Your body will be blown to smithereens, and you will be reborn as a mindless insect, unable to ever regenerate."
"…N-no… you're lying…"
"If you think so, then by all means, try to defy me. Go on, I won't stop you."
The color drained from Skeeter's face, and her lips began to tremble. What is this girl? Is this truly the work of a human? How can a mere student do something so cruel without batting an eye?! Skeeter no longer knew what the girl in front of her was. She wasn't even sure if the being she was facing was human at all.
"I'm leaving now, but it would be a bother if a teacher saw this mess. You clean it all up. You're good at destroying evidence, aren't you?"
"…"
"What's wrong? Didn't you hear me?"
Skeeter was too terrified to speak, but the next moment, she looked at her own nail and screamed. The color was changing! What had been a sky-blue just moments ago was now turning a dark, foreboding blue!
"Eek!" she cried, scrambling to her feet. Don't defy her. You must not go against her. The understanding was seared into her mind in an instant.
"Y-yes! Yes! Right away, immediately!"
"That's better," Mirabel muttered at Skeeter's attitude and snapped her fingers. Instantly, all of Skeeter's injuries were healed, and the pain vanished. She could use magic now, at least. Cleaning up shouldn't be too difficult.
And with that, the fiend who had subjugated Rita Skeeter with violence and fear walked off to her next class without a care in the world. Left behind was only Skeeter, her teeth miraculously regrown, chattering as she diligently began to clean the storeroom, the nightmare she had just endured seeming like a lie.
Author's Notes:
Malfoy: "Information, huh… Beresford probably knows a lot…"
Skeeter: "Eek!? Don't say that name in front of me!"
Malfoy: "!?"
Edith: (What did she do this time!?)
∩(・ω・)∩< Don't do it… you'll die.
The chapter where Rita picks a fight with the wrong person.
Mirabel, who has been relatively tame recently, finally shows her true colors again.
And she got Rita Skeeter! Now she'll have access to plenty of information.
Or so I thought, but Hermione captures Skeeter after this, so she might not be that useful after all.
And then there's Malfoy, who keeps picking on Harry.
It's like this in the original work too, but it's often said that the reason he picks on him so much is because he actually wants his attention. He really wants to be friends but can't be honest about it, resulting in a vicious cycle where he gets completely beaten down. When you think of it that way, he seems kind of endearing, which makes you want to bully him even more.
***
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