A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts-Chapter 641: Rita Skeeter in Action - (1)

Chapter 641: Rita Skeeter in Action

As Christmas approached, the magical and Muggle worlds alike were filled with a festive atmosphere, and joy seemed to overflow on people's faces. Meanwhile, the reporters of The Daily Prophet sat together in a meeting, discussing their upcoming New Year's topics.

"Rita," a stout man inquired, "how's your article coming along?"

"It's done," Rita Skeeter declared loudly, pulling a stack of printed papers from her crocodile-skin bag. "I've dug up some sensational material. There's evidence suggesting that the government is systematically covering up the dangers of Mad Cow Disease to the public!"

"Is that so?" The stout supervisor dryly replied, wiping the sweaty beads from his forehead as he took Rita's news article. Nonchalantly flipping through a few pages, he looked up and said, "I'm sorry, Rita, but your piece won't be published."

“Why?” Skeeter raised her voice, her pen, which had been spinning continuously in her hand, came to a sudden halt.

"No particular reason. I admit you've been excellent, scoring victories consistently, but..." The man fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, emitting a creaking sound.

Rita Skeeter observed him carefully.

"Oh," she elongated her tone, "I see. Well, I resign then."

The stout man stared at her in surprise, completely caught off guard. In his impression, she was like a relentless hunting hound, tracking her prey tirelessly, ruthless and cunning. This was flattery.

"I thought—"

"Thought what? That I would cling to it till death?" Rita Skeeter sneered. "I have confidence in my business acumen. Even if my efforts in the Mad Cow Disease series have gone down the drain, I'm confident I'll find new material. Unlike others." She glanced towards the corner.

On the long office table, several reporters glared at her, but Rita Skeeter responded with a disdainful look. She had figured out the pattern, and now she was in her element.

Indeed, the stout man expressed great admiration for her.

"Fantastic, Rita! I dare say bringing you in was the best decision I've ever made. Let me think, what's the latest hot news..." He seized the opportunity to assign her a new task. "How do you plan to spend Christmas?"

Rita Skeeter thought for a moment and replied, "I'll probably take a few days off." She planned to go to the Ministry of Magic to exploit Amelia Bones's sympathy. These months had been exhausting, juggling between The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, and she had no intention of giving up on either side—after all, both involved a fair bit of fabrication.

On the second floor of her apartment in the Muggle world, a small window was always open, convenient for owls to come and go during the night.

The stout man blinked. "In that case—"

"How about assigning me the divorce news of that princess?" Rita Skeeter volunteered, "I'm sure I can dig up more eye-catching details." After months of working together, the man knew that when she said 'investigate,' it actually meant 'fabricate.'

The man was intrigued.

"No!" A refined blonde woman protested angrily. "I've been in charge of that, and we can't abandon it halfway."

"Oh, Melissa." Skeeter looked at her disdainfully. "It's been so long, and you haven't produced any results. Maybe it means you're not cut out for this." 'Melissa' glared at her, grinding her teeth as if she wanted to devour her whole.

The stout supervisor hesitated. Although Melissa wasn't as efficient as Rita Skeeter, she was a valuable asset under his command. He didn't want their relationship to get too close, nor did he want the conflict to become irreconcilable and affect their work.

"Here's the deal, Rita," he finally decided. "You go follow up on the gun control issue."

Rita Skeeter's eyes lit up.

But instead of immediately agreeing, she calmly inquired, "To what extent can I report on it?"

"Whatever you want," the stout man said. "This matter is basically risk-free now. The new gun control legislation is already in the pipeline. The anti-gun movement initiated by the victims' families of the early-year shootings has had a profound impact, even though it's been quiet lately. I've received intelligence that there may be results in the coming year or two."

"Wait, we can still get a piece of the pie," Rita Skeeter immediately suggested, eagerly sucking on her pen like she was savoring a feather quill, inspiration bursting forth. "We can do a series of exclusive reports around this event during Christmas. Connect peace and slaughter, New Year and shootings, exaggerate it all... reignite the buzz. If we can keep it up until the new legislation is enacted, we can confidently claim: the implementation of the new law is inseparable from our efforts."

She sneered at Melissa and looked at the man.

"Why Christmas? Because only when other newspapers are busy reporting on Christmas and New Year festivities can we highlight our uniqueness. It's all about differentiation. Let readers instantly recognize us!" She leaned over, staring at the stout middle-aged man. "What do you think, Mr. Editor?"

The editor swallowed hard, his face stiff. "We are just an entertainment newspaper. If the topic is too serious—"

"You can rest assured; I'll use an entirely new narrative technique." Rita Skeeter pulled back, confidently saying, "And I have my own interpretation of 'entertainment.'"

She said sweetly, "The most important thing for a newspaper is circulation. Apart from that, the topic doesn't matter, the form doesn't matter, and even the truth—" She raised an eyebrow, revealing a knowing smile.

Applause rang out at the door. A woman with a serious face walked in, and no one noticed how much of the conversation she had overheard.

"You're Rita Skeeter, right? Your name is quite popular now; my ears are almost calloused from hearing it."

"And you are?" Skeeter asked calmly. She caught a faint smell of peppermint smoke, a scent she had only smelled at that office door, which was always tightly closed, never opened once.

The stout supervisor desperately signaled her with his eyes, gesturing with his mouth. The woman didn't answer but instead looked Rita Skeeter up and down. "I've been away from the company for a few months, but I haven't missed a single one of your articles, ridiculing the government into a sorry state. Well, readers love that."

"So, are you planning to promote me?" Rita Skeeter asked with a pleasing tone.

The stout supervisor widened his eyes from behind, a shameful act of betrayal. However, Skeeter was ready to climb the high branches, staring intently at the woman who suddenly appeared. She sniffed a hint of peppermint smoke, a scent she had only smelled at that office door, which had never been opened once.

The woman did not answer but instead scrutinized Rita Skeeter for a while. "My time is limited, so I only have one question for the interview. If I want to increase the circulation of the newspaper by another twenty thousand, what suggestions do you have?"

Skeeter clenched her fists. "Increase the distinctiveness of the newspaper."

"Distinctiveness? Explain."

"In fact, we are already ahead, like the third-page ladies... but it's far from enough. We must differentiate ourselves from other newspapers in every aspect—even if it's a mistake, we must be the only one making it. Sometimes, we can deliberately go against the readers' expectations. Of course... only true experts can handle these subtle differences."

The woman squinted, asking with interest, "Do you consider yourself that expert?"

"Without a doubt," Skeeter shamelessly asserted.

A moment of silence. The woman nodded at her, "From now on, you're one of the deputy editors."

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