Omnia Mors Perimit

I lean back in my swivelling chair, smugly satisfied with myself. I was the tiniest bit anxious that my comeback as a reporter wouldn't be easy, after that ridiculous writing ban that this silly girl forced upon me. But no, as a matter of fact, the editors have embraced me immediately, warmly expressing their relief that I've returned to journalism. I explained my absence to be the result of a burnout syndrome; I've been in the business for more than twenty years, I've earned every right to claim some time for myself.

Bozo's glad too. Without my instincts, he's been pretty lost, selling only four - four! - photos in twelve months. Fudge inaugurating a new wing of Saint Mungo's - booring. Two pictures of the destroyed western wing of Azkaban prison - and they haven't even been that good. And finally a slurred snapshot of Tim Fawcett from the Pest Advisory Board with a pretty witch that was not his wife - Bozo was so surprised by his own good luck, he dropped his camera and spent half of his earnings on the repair. But now we're back together as a team, and already, we've sold three lead articles equipped with handsome photos, and a couple of other stuff.

I'm particularly proud on my coverage on the Death Eater trials. Held in closed session, reasonable coverage was nearly impossible. Nearly. But not for me, Rita Skeeter! In beetle form, I've crept into the ear trumpet of one of the Wizengamot elders - you wouldn't want me to go into the details, trust me - to get into the courtroom. The trials were a disgrace, frankly. Not only that some of the perpetrators could have been arrested much earlier - I made that interview with the Potter kid myself where he's given their names. But the board has been much less prepared than Elias Yaxley, Defence Counsel Wizard for each one of the Death Eaters. Boy, the man was good! And jolly handsome, but that's another story. What does it say about the state of the nation when a dozen felons caught in the act - almost killing a few children, seriously injuring most of them, and involved in the death of one wizard, even if this one was persecuted by the Ministry, too - when those guys get away with sentences for illegal entry?! They must be kidding! Good heavens! The maximum punishment being five years two months for Antonin Dolohov, because he's nearly murdered the Granger chick (I sympathise with the idea as such). Sure, he ought to be doing lifelong anyhow because of his old sentence, but still!

I've never seen legal procedures worse prepared. The children didn't even show up to give their testimony; their statements were merely read out. In a way, I understand. The kids are probably traumatised, so having them cross-examined by a bloke like Yaxley would only make things worse. What's more, it's totally obvious that Dumbledore has some intelligence that he doesn't want to make public, so he's keeping the children from testifying. Gee, I'd give my left arm to know what they know. And most of all, no matter how long they want to lock the Death Eaters away, You Know Who will free them again anyway.

Be that as it may, the Ministry's embarrassed itself. I on the other hand seriously contemplate to try and get a date with Yaxley. I'd love to find out what he knows about his clients, plus he's been working for the Malfoy Family for more than ten years, plus - oh well, I was pretty turned on by his courtroom performance. Slick, baby! I spy on him whenever I have the time, and already I've gathered some sound information for another spiky article. He's still the Malfoy's Law Wizard; famous Narcissa Malfoy herself has seen him a couple of times. I tried to find out what they're talking about, but Narcissa hexed the office totally impenetrable. Trust that woman to know what she's doing, eh?

I was present at Narcissa's own trial, which was even more preposterous than her husband's. First, I was puzzled that Narcissa's refused to have Yaxley for her defence. But then I understood. Narcissa Malfoy has a whole collection of bad qualities, but you can't deny she's as sharp as a razor blade. She knows how to use her advantages to the best effect, and she's figured out the members of the Wizengamot, more importantly. The youngest of them was born in 1873; all of them have been raised in very different ways from what's considered 'modern' nowadays. Narcissa has played the family card. 'Family', 'loyalty', 'tradition', and she's brought her adolescent son to sit beside her. The judges couldn't have resisted her even if they had wanted. The beautiful, comparably young mother, with her apprehensive, angelic-looking boy, insisting upon her right - nay, duty - to stick to her husband - brilliant; I got to hand it to her.

She's left the courtroom as a free witch, and I'd wager half a year's income that fifty percent of the spectators went home that day thinking what a lovely, conscientious, thoroughly excellent wife and mother Mrs Malfoy was, nagging on their respective spouses, daughters or daughters-in-law to be a bit more like her. I know her better. I sort of know the entire family better than that.

The kid, for an instance. He might look like a cherub all right, but he's a sly one, a hundred percent his father's son. I've dealt with him last year; he knows exactly what he wants, and how to achieve it. As for Mighty Lucius - where to start, really! He's been vastly powerful, in each and every respect. I won't deny it, he is an awesome wizard, and his involvement with the Dark Arts has only augmented his power. There's only a handful of people who could take on him. But his influence isn't merely of magical origin, being the by far richest bloke within the entire country, he had everyone in his pocket anyway, before his arrest. Gold is a mighty argument, isn't it? The name in itself has often been enough to persuade people of the opposite of what they've been thinking before - if Mr Malfoy thought it to be right, if Mr Malfoy wanted it, well, it must be all right then, eh?

If being a Black, Montague or Rookwood makes one practically royal, being a Malfoy is imperial, the family is as old as records do go back, almost two thousand years of purest ancestry running through their veins. Bloody hypocrites that most people are, they pretend to give nothing for the purity of blood, but they're still deadly impressed by something like this.

I'm not as much of a hypocrite though as most people assume. I earn my living by professing opinions that aren't necessarily my own, but I'd go mad if I didn't keep a mind of my own, so often the public views do change. I know how many articles I have sold, commercialising the special air of the Malfoys - my readers are smitten to hear pretty much anything about the great, rich and mighty. And good-looking, all right. Bozo's got a thousand galleons for one of the rare photographs of Narcissa Malfoy, when this one deigned to show herself in public, that haughty bitch. Which didn't happen too often, sadly enough for Bozo.

They were just too good to be true, I've always supposed this. Lucius Malfoy in all his splendour, with all his gold and his ancient name, his fabulous connections, his dominant air and condescending manners, his many charitable donations, his glorious businesses, making him even richer. When this bloke announced his engagement to Narcissa Black, the editor of Witch Weekly must have got a seizure of joy, and with him every journalist in England. Narcissa, coming from a family only second to the Malfoys, just as rich, just as pureblooded, beautiful beyond words, and with that special air of cold superiority, even colder than her fiancé. Oh, it has been a feast. I remember well how it's been then, and how everyone's tried to get hold of an invitation to their wedding.

However, come on! Everyone with eyes and ears could have known, had they bothered. Personally, I haven't nurtured much of a doubt, even though I wouldn't have wanted to mess with the great Lucius for the world, before all this. Even now, I'm insecure if I can afford to write the article I'm planning - about Yaxley, about Narcissa... The guy's randy as a dog in heat for her, clearly, and I thought about dropping some juicy innuendoes in that quarter, but that might be taking it too far. Now, Lucius is in prison, but he'll come back sooner or later, and I got no taste for coming in his way then. He worships the ground that his wife is walking upon... He won't tolerate any joke at all about her, let alone -

Gnawing on my quill - I know it's a bad habit - I'm lost in thoughts. I got quite a clear idea about the Dark Order. I'd have to be very much mistaken if I was wrong here! I know my territory, for almost three decades, I've used my beetle form to gather information that no one else could get. One of the most obvious candidates for the Dark Order is Graham Goyle - he wasn't in the Ministry by sheer chance, for goodness' sake! One needn't be a reporter of my format to know that Goyle would do anything that his great friend Malfoy does. They've always been thick as thieves. Slightly more difficult to guess is Mason Mordaunt, from the Swansea Mordaunts. He's into the Dark Arts up to his ankles, or how else did he manage to have all his rivals' businesses ruined in less than five years, eh? The point is - You Know Who would want someone like him, with his connections to so many customers, so either Mordaunt succumbs, or perishes, and the last time I've looked, the man was thriving. Or the Carrow siblings! They've got it written on their foreheads, man! Or the talented Mr Yaxley, he -

Without even knocking, Bozo sticks in his head. He's sallow, haunted-looking, but before I have a chance to ask what's wrong, he mutters, "There's a visitor for you, Rita -"

"Make an appointment, Bozo! Jesus, those people can't just walk in like that, I'm wor-"

"No, Rita, I think you do want to receive her right now." He grimaces expressively. Her...? Bozo's no Hengist of Woodcroft, but usually, he's not that easily intimidated either, least by a witch. Goes with the territory as a scandal photographer - your skin just gets thicker.

"Oh well, send her in then. I think I need a break anyway."

I'd wonder who that visitor is, but in the very next second, Bozo's pushed aside, the door flies open and the Narcissa Malfoy is standing in the door frame. Clad in most exquisite black silk and laces, a black veil covering her hair, black gloves of fine leather, and smiling subtly. Nonetheless or all the more, she's emanating a chilly breeze, beckoning her head for a fracture. "Rita -"

What the - "Narcissa! What a pleasant surprise! Do sit down, please! Tea, coffee -"

"I don't wish to waste your time, or mine at that instance, Rita, so spare your false niceties and let us get straight to the point." Her tone isn't actually aggressive, but calm and courteous and so is her expression. "It might have slipped your notice, but you should know that Lucius owns sixty percent of The Owl. Hence the editor in chief, Mr Pilliwickle, felt compelled to consult with me about your latest contribution. Can you follow me?"

Screw you, Preston! He swore that it doesn't make a difference who owns the paper, damn it! Why didn't he just say, 'Hey Rita, I can't publish this, you're messing with the owner'?! I force myself to smile though, and coo, "I take it you're not content with it?"

"Oh, I did relish certain parts, you see. For example - 'rarely has the rule of law been manipulated more artfully than in the case of Mrs Malfoy'. I enjoy a good phrase, Rita, don't get me wrong. I don't care what you write about me. But if you think you can slander my son, you're picking a fight that you cannot win."

"But I did no such thing! I just -"

Narcissa produces a parchment and puts it in front of me. It's my article, sure, with some purple markings. "I'm willing to make you an offer that I consider to be quite generous. I'm sure you've recognised this - read it again, carefully. If you find that you can live with the omissions that I've suggested, I give you leave to send it back to good Mr Pilliwickle. If you can't live with the changes in your work, I'm afraid I've got to tell you that The Owl has to do without you in the future."

I can't help myself, my jaw drops to my chest. Such a blatant attack on my journalistic integrity's quite unheard of! Who does this bitch think she is?! "You - you - mutilate my article?!"

Narcissa laughs softly. "Oh please, Rita. Don't be so melodramatic. You will see that I only cut out your mentions of Draco, which is just fair if you'll ask me. He's not even of age, and bear in mind that I could also ask good Mr Yaxley to sue you, obtain an injunction, and milk you for every knut you've got. Libelling is a costly hobby, dear."

"Libelling? Are you out of your mind or what?!"

"You've been to the trial, Rita. You've seen how those judges dote on me. Do you seriously want to explain to them that a sentence like 'The boy can hardly wait to walk in his father's shoes, who's incidentally doing his three years in Azkaban presently' does not count as libelling a minor, hm? Also, Lucius is bound to disapprove if he has to read such things about his only child, don't you think? You've got the choice. Choose wisely." She smiles one last time, then rearranges the veil to cover her lower face and her eyes become icy. "Good bye, Rita. I hope on your behalf that we don't have to meet again."

She floats out of the office as regally as she's entered. Bozo crouches out of his hiding place too, nervously checking if she has really left. "See? See? Oh, I told you! Don't you say I hadn't warned you, Rita! Messing with the Malfoys means trouble, regardless if Lucius's in Azkaban or not!"

"If that bitch thinks she can blackmail me, she's got it oh-so-wrong, boy," I hiss furiously. After the ban that this awful schoolgirl has cast on me, I'm not going to let the next best malcontent prohibit me to write as I please! Not even if that malcontent is bloody Narcissa Malfoy!

"Are you crazy? Rita! Get real! I've heard every word she's said, and mark my words, her offer is more than generous! Not only that she can ruin you financially, but - but - god, Rita! I bet Lucius knows a thousand ways to eliminate you without leaving a trace! I suppose even his son still knows a hundred ways to do that!"

"Keep your hat on, Bozo! They've got more pressing problems than dealing with a little reporter," I say, attempting to sound more self-assured than I truly am. "She's just bluffing, she can't afford to have another trial on her back."

"You can't afford to push up the daisies, Rita! My, if you don't want to do yourself a favour, at least think of me!"

"Now you're the one being a bit melodramatic, Bozo! I'm not going to be intimidated by Narcissa Malfoy!" I'm so angry, I kick Bozo out of my office and sit down to write exactly that article that I was thinking about earlier. The Malfoys, their possible entanglement with the Dark Order, other wizards that are likely to be connected to the Order; I report this last attempt of shushing an upright journalist and a couple of other things that have come to my ears lately. I strictly stick to the facts, and those conjectures that I truly believe in myself, then make half a dozen copies. One to be kept in my Gringotts vault, one for my safe at home, the others hidden in places where they will be found in case something happened to me. I fold the original at last and address it to grand Mrs Malfoy herself, with the little addition, 'Our deal works in both ways, Cissy. If Bozo or I were to suffer any harm, this will find its way to every paper in this country!'