Chapter 51. Rita Skeeter's Lucky Day
Fortunately for us, our stunt with Lockhart ended up costing us surprisingly little from the school's side. Only fifty points were taken. Which is, on the one hand, quite a lot, of course—but considering how many points we earn for our House anyway, no one blamed us, and those who disliked that peacock as much as we did even said they'd definitely try to repeat our feat. All the more so since we'd achieved our goal, and Lockhart stopped bothering us.
However, we didn't manage to avoid retribution entirely. Not even a week had passed when we suddenly received a huge number of letters from enraged fangirls, some of which were obvious traps that, when opened, released various highly unpleasant things like bubotuber pus. Others were simply Howlers, which, if we didn't burn them quickly enough, would start screaming across the Great Hall and slinging mud at Andromeda, going on about how awful she was and how she'd taken their idol by surprise.
Were we going to put up with this until those unhinged fangirls finally calmed down?
Absolutely not.
Seeing the smug face of that blond idiot when we were a little thrown on the first day by the sheer number of letters—because of which the Howlers activated—we decided it was time to put an end to this fraud's career.
That very same day, we sent a letter to Rita Skeeter with the date and place of a meeting, along with an explanation that she'd have the opportunity to stage a real scandal that would shake all of magical Britain—and with an extra advance payment for speed.
Needless to say, by the time we had the house-elf take us to Hogsmeade, she was already waiting for us at a table.
Honestly, if it hadn't been for the exact table we'd specified, plus a couple of telling details, we would never in our lives have recognized Rita Skeeter in the gorgeous woman waiting for us—the one who had always dressed so tastelessly. Now this woman had completely transformed, and though we were, to put it mildly, far from experts on fashion, even we could see that for the wizarding world her new style looked downright modern.
"You're Rita Skeeter?" we asked through Regulus, even though we'd already guessed as much.
"What's the matter, little monster, don't recognize me?" the woman replied with a sly smile.
"The new image suits you very much," we said, unable to keep a note of admiration out of our voice at how striking the difference was.
"Hmph, as if I didn't know that," the woman suddenly snorted, leaning back in her chair, and the way her expression changed convinced us more than any words that this was indeed the very same Rita Skeeter. "Let's get straight to business."
"Fine," we sat down opposite her.
"You know Lockhart personally, I take it? Don't you?"
"Of course," the reporter snorted. "He's supposed to be teaching at Hogwarts right now."
"Has he done anything interesting?" The woman's eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Other than the fact that he's weaker than most first-years? No."
"Then why did you call me here?" the reporter frowned. Just the information that Gilderoy is a weakling was clearly not enough for a sensation, especially since he'd be able to wriggle his way out of that far too easily.
"To destroy the reputation and career of that peacock," we stated.
"Kids, you seem to be very confused. You think that's so easy to do?" She looked at us condescendingly.
"No, we don't think so—we know how to make it happen," we began, at the same time pulling a pouch of Galleons from our things and placing it on the table.
"Lockhart is famous for supposedly having performed all the feats described in his books. And people believe it because the incidents in the books are real—just as real as the victims. But there's a nuance: he's not the one who actually performed those feats."
"And? How are you going to prove that?" Skeeter asked, having already palmed the pouch and started counting how much was inside.
"Lockhart is truly proficient in only one spell: the Memory Charm. He tracked down the people who actually accomplished those feats, learned the details from them, and then stripped them of their memories so there'd be no one left to object to him stealing their glory. We're sure that with your capabilities and a thousand Galleons, you'll be able to handle this in no time. What's more, we're certain there are a couple of Aurors who will be delighted to open their wives' eyes to who their idol really is. And they'll be even happier to come and arrest him afterward."
Rita Skeeter stopped counting about halfway through our little speech, and her smile rather quickly turned into something truly, deliciously venomous.
"Little monsters. This is quite a pleasant gift. But I don't understand: what do you get out of this?"
"We recently caused him a tiny bit of trouble during a lesson thanks to his negligence, and we're tired of his rabid fangirls."
"I see," the reporter smiled with satisfaction, and we felt the need to add:
"If you can do everything quickly, we'll add another five hundred Galleons once the job is done," we said, getting the feeling she might otherwise draw this out on purpose, just to annoy us.
"A thousand Galleons now, and I'll take care of it within a week."
We stared silently at this brazen woman, feeling a powerful urge to give her a good spanking. Hormones acting up, clearly.
"Seven hundred and fifty Galleons, no more," we replied at last.
"Deal," she immediately stretched out her hand expectantly.
"You really want us to count out seven hundred and fifty Galleons right here?"
"And what, is that a problem?" the reporter answered without so much as blinking.
With a heavy sigh, we began using magic to pull out Galleons in neat stacks of ten, until we finally had the required sum, which the woman immediately swept up with a satisfied look.
"Pleasure doing business with you, little monsters," she tossed over her shoulder before heading for the exit, swaying her hips seductively.
"She definitely wants to be spanked," we sighed before heading back to the castle.
To the reporter's credit, she kept her word, and already a week later a shocking piece of news thundered across all of Britain. The League Against Dark Arts revoked Gilderoy Lockhart's membership and announced the start of an official investigation into the famous author. And on top of that came Rita Skeeter's words—she appeared in her new image and spoke of the evidence she had uncovered, which was now being officially examined.
Oh, how sweet it was to watch, at breakfast, as that peacock sat down at the staff table with his usual dazzling smile—and then, instead of the adoring eyes of his fangirls that he was so used to, he was met with a sea of looks full of contempt, though of course there were still those who hoped it was all some sort of joke or mistake. But as soon as someone handed the completely clueless writer a copy of the Daily Prophet, his face turned pale, and his eternal smile slid right off. He jumped up at once and, muttering something nervously about having urgent business, bolted from the Great Hall, clearly intending to grab his things and run. However, before he could even make it out of the grounds, Aurors were already waiting for him—and they arrested him with the greatest of pleasure.
And that was how Gilderoy Lockhart's short-lived career as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor came to an end. And soon after, the goblins finally got in touch with us, and we received the long-awaited egg of an ice phoenix.