How to off Rita Skeeter Permanently
by Slender's Father

Harry had enough. He really, really had enough. Day after day, Rita Skeeter was publishing tosh about him!

Every -bloody motherfucking- day.

He's had it.

But what was he going to do about it?

He couldn't get her fired from the Daily Prophet; she was their money maker!

He couldn't get the Ministry to restrain her; she was not breaking any laws!

He certainly couldn't kill her; she-!

...

Why couldn't he kill her?

Everyone not of the public hated her. The Ministry hated her, he hated her, goblins hated her, Hogwarts hated her...

Hell, only teenage girls and gossiping old women cared about what she wrote.

...

Should he kill her?

...

Why not? If no one knew he killed her, it wouldn't matter, right?


Harry methodically breathed in and out, in and out.

He was going to do this.

He walked up the stairs.

Today, Rita Skeeter was in her office happily writing away about something. Probably about him.

Well, good luck, Rita. That's your last article.

Harry stood on the other side of the Diagon Alley from Daily Prophet's office. He saw her across the street, happily typing away.

He raised his wand ... and flicked.

With a pop, the disillusionment he had over his right hand disappeared.

And along with his right hand, a long black case appeared from under the disillusionment.

Harry breathed in and out.

'Remember what he said about killing,' Harry thought to himself as he sat down.

He opened the case and stared at what was within it.

Its smooth, black skin sheened in the sunlight that filtered through behind him.

He pulled it out.

And admired it.

'Now remember what he said,' he thought again to himself as he pulled out the secondary components to this ... device. He pushed it into the slot they were supposed to go. He then flicked a switch on the side.

"Okay..."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He got comfortable.

He pulled the legs out from the device and set it on the chair.

He knelt down and placed the stock of the device on his shoulder.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

He looked through the scope, placed the cross on Rita's head, and pulled the trigger.

The subsonic bullet whipped silently out of the open door, across the corridor, across the next open door, across the next room, out of the open window, and crossed the Diagon Alley in less than a second.

In the later half of the same second, it pierced through the windows of Rita's office and tore through her left temple.

Rita's head snapped right and she fell as her gore and brains decorated her office.

Harry quickly pulled the rifle back, disassembled it, pushed it into his case, disillusioned it, and left the building.