(Gilderoy Lockhart)
Monday, January 2, 1995
The first day after the holidays should have been peaceful.
But unfortunately, it wasn't.
I had barely finished breakfast when I noticed that something was wrong.
Students were whispering, and teachers were exchanging uncomfortable looks.
And sitting right in the middle of the staff table was the source of the disturbance.
A copy of the Daily Prophet, which is never a good sign.
I picked it up and immediately regretted it.
The headline practically screamed at me.
HALF-GIANT TEACHING HOGWARTS CHILDREN
Below it was a moving photograph of Hagrid looking particularly unfortunate.
I sighed.
"Rita..."
By the time I finished reading the article, I was tempted to use the newspaper to strangle its author.
The article revealed that Hagrid's mother had been the giantess Fridwulfa.
That part was true, but the rest?
Nothing but a mountain of rubbish.
According to Rita Skeeter, giants were savage monsters incapable of controlling their violent instincts.
Therefore, by her impeccable journalistic logic, Hagrid must secretly be a danger to every child at Hogwarts.
It was the sort of reasoning that would make a troll feel intellectually superior.
The worst is that she had included several interviews with Hogwarts students where they talked bad about Hagrid, all Slytherin bigots obviously, but with Hagrid being so sensitive, that definitely had to hurt.
I folded the paper carefully.
Very carefully.
Because if I did not, I might set it on fire.
Beside me, Sirius had been reading over my shoulder.
"Bloody hell."
"Bloody hell indeed." I sighed.
Across the table, Dumbledore looked disappointed.
McGonagall looked furious.
And even Snape appeared annoyed, though admittedly his face always looked like that.
Then I noticed something else.
An empty chair.
Hagrid's chair.
Ah.
That would not do.
…
I headed straight for Hagrid's hut.
The curtains were closed, no smoke rose from the chimney, and Fang could be heard whining behind the door.
I knocked, but other than Fang scratching the door, no one else answered.
"Hagrid?"
Silence.
I knocked again, but still nothing.
"Hagrid, it's me."
Still no response.
I sighed. "If you don't open this door, I am going to do something illegal and incredibly rude."
Still nothing.
"Very well."
I tapped the door with my staff and the lock clicked open.
Inside, the hut was dark.
Fang immediately rushed over and pressed against my leg.
The poor dog looked worried.
Then I spotted Hagrid.
The enormous half-giant was lying face-down on his bed.
His shoulders were shaking and muffled sobs could be heard.
Oh.
Now I was definitely angry.
"Hagrid."
A muffled sniffle came from beneath the blanket. "Go away."
"No."
Another sniff. "They're right."
I sat down beside the bed. "No, they are not."
"It's true," Hagrid muttered. "Me mum was a giant."
"So what?."
Hagrid blinked.
Apparently that was not the response he expected.
"Yes," I repeated. "That part is true."
He stared at me.
"But the rest is nonsense."
I gestured toward the newspaper. "Violent? You?"
I snorted.
"Hagrid, you're one of the gentlest people I've ever met."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I kept going before he could.
"You cry over injured creatures."
"Hmm."
"You adopt monsters because you feel sorry for them."
"Hmm."
"You knitted Fang a Christmas sweater."
"...it was cold."
"Exactly."
I pointed triumphantly. "My case rests."
A reluctant smile appeared beneath his beard.
"The article is not about who you are," I continued. "It's about selling newspapers."
Hagrid wiped his eyes. "But people'll believe it."
"Some will." I shrugged.
"But some people also believe that Cornish Pixies make excellent pets."
His expression twitched.
"That doesn't make them right."
For several seconds he was silent. Then he asked quietly, "What am I supposed ter do?"
I stood up. "You do nothing."
Hagrid frowned. "Nothin'?"
"Yes, just keep going with your life as you've always done, leave handling Rita to me."
…
Getting in contact with Rita Skeeter was surprisingly easy.
We arranged to meet in a small private room at the Three Broomsticks.
When I arrived, she was already there.
"Gilderoy!" She smiled brightly.
I smiled back.
We had worked together often enough over the years.
She had written dozens of articles about me, and most of them even contained facts.
"Rita."
She gestured toward a chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I sat and went straight to business. "The Hagrid article, I want you to retract it."
Her smile faltered. "You know I can't retract it."
"Why not?"
"It would damage my credibility."
I stared at her incredulously. "Your credibility?"
"Yes."
"And Hagrid's reputation doesn't matter?"
Rita sighed. "Gilderoy…"
"No."
I leaned forward. "Hagrid's a good man and a dear friend, I can't let you destroy his reputation like this."
She looked away.
For the first time, she seemed uncomfortable.
Unfortunately for her, I had not come merely to argue.
I had come prepared.
"Tell me, Rita."
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"How would people react if they knew exactly how you have been obtaining all these exclusive stories?"
The smile vanished from her face. " I don't know what you're talking about."
I ignored her fluster and continued.
"It's understandable that no one has noticed, after all, who pays attention to a beetle sitting on a windowsill?"
Rita froze.
Then I kept going. "Who notices a beetle sitting perching on their shoulder while discussing private matters?"
Rita was frozen in her seat, her eyes wide.
Bullseye.
I smiled pleasantly. "You know, I often wondered how you always knew things you shouldn't."
Her face had gone very pale.
"Then it finally occurred to me."
I leaned back. "What a clever little Animagus."
The silence became absolute.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?"
Her fingers tightened around her handbag.
"Madam Bones might be interested."
That got a reaction.
I continued cheerfully. "I hear she already dislikes you for all the articles you have written about the Aurors' incompetence."
Rita swallowed.
"Five years minimum for being an unregistered Animagus."
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Though considering how you've used it to spy on people, on powerful and important people at that, I suspect the sentence could become substantially longer, and even the dementor's kiss wouldn't be out of the table."
Rita looked like she might faint.
At last she slumped into her chair. "...what do you want?"
Victory.
Beautiful, beautiful victory.
"First, an apology to Hagrid."
She grimaced.
"Second, a retraction."
A deeper grimace.
"Anything else?"
I considered.
Then I remembered Harry, and Fleur.
And several particularly irritating articles.
"Oh yes."
Rita closed her eyes, of course there was more.
"You will also correct those stories about Harry Potter."
She groaned.
"The boy did not cheat, and he isn't some tragic hero crying for attention."
I counted on my fingers.
"Then there was the article implying Fleur Delacour has been using her veela powers to seduce every man she meets."
Rita winced.
"And the one suggesting she bewitched half the tournament judges."
Another wince.
"And the one claiming she was pursuing me romantically."
Rita raised an eyebrow at the last one. "...wasn't she?"
I coughed. "That is not the point."
"It sounded pretty accurate, there's multiple witnesses."
"Rita." I narrowed my eyes.
"Fine." She sighed.
I nodded approvingly. "Excellent."
She glared at me, but I smiled back.
After all, if one was going to blackmail a journalist into behaving ethically, one should at least remain charming throughout the process.
It was only polite.
…