For the Hogwarts Forum
Assignment #5- Careers Advice: Curse-Breaking, task 1: Write about someone getting injured on his/her job
Showtime, "The Reynolds Pamphlet" (journalist)
Roald Dahl Event, Beetle juicing (Rita Skeeter)
Word Count: 1123
Rita takes one last look at her reflection in the window. Her blonde curls are neat and tidy, and her red lipstick show that she means business. She grins. Perfect. It's her first real story to cover, and she is ready to prove herself as a capable journalist, even if it means having to sit through some breeder rambling about Nifflers for an hour.
She adjusts her glasses, admiring the way the frames glimmer in the sunlight. She looks the part; now she just has to act it.
Though her hands tremble and she feels as though several butterflies have been released in her stomach, she holds her head high. This is her big break, and she will not fail.
Wearing a winning smile, she pushes open the door. A young man waits for her, grinning. "You must be Rita Skeeter. Pleased to meet you. I'm Leland Urquhart, and I'll be your guide today."
"Charmed," she says. She doesn't want to bother with niceties, but her editor has emphasized the need to be polite. According to him, no one wants to talk to a sour grape.
"I would suggest you take off your glasses," Leland tells her. "Nifflers like-"
"I need them," she says sharply. Realizing she's spoken so harshly, she adds in a much sweeter tone, "I'm blind as a bat without them. Now, how long have you worked here?"
"I've been here since I left Hogwarts, so six years now," he says.
Rita swears softly under her breath. In her hurry to get things started, she'd forgotten to retrieve her parchment and quill from her purse. She quickly corrects her mistake and begins scribbling notes. "How many Nifflers are kept here?"
"Currently, only thirty," he answers. "The number always depends on how successful a mating season is."
She nods, keeping her eyes on the parchment, her quill scratching moving quickly.
"Now, if you'd like to see the sanctuary, I can give you a more interactive tour," Leland says.
"Yes, yes. Lovely," she says, looking up at him again. "Lead the way."
As he walks, he continues to talk, offering her the history of the place. Personally, Rita doesn't care about the little details. To her, they're terribly boring. Her readers, however, might actually enjoy knowing that Niffler sanctuary has been around for forty years or that Newt Scamander himself helped develop the play area for them. Though she'd rather omit the boring dribble, she writes quick notes on everything Leland tells her, her head already hurting as she imagines having to pick through to find anything interesting in the bombardment of information.
"As you can see, happiness is important to us here," Leland continues.
Rita winces when she realizes she's no longer walking on a sleek tile floor. Her heels sink slightly, and when she looks to see why, she finds that she's standing on soft dirt. Her lip curls, but she pushes on. She has a job to do. "Why is there dirt?" she asks, but she quickly realizes that's not the most peculiar thing.
The Nifflers roam free here. No bars or cages to separate them from the humans. Rita purses her lips but says nothing, even when one creeps closer.
"Nifflers like to burrow with their treasures," Leland explains, pausing to kneel and pet the approaching creature.
Again, Rita cranes her neck. Her eyes focus on the parchment, and she barely registers the small, curious sound the Niffler makes or the soft sound of paws tapping against the dirt.
"Rita?"
"Hold on. I'm trying to write this down. What do you mean by treas-"
The question dies as she feels a sudden weight smack against her. She shrieks, flailing, but all she can see is dark fur. "Get it off! Get it off!"
"It's your glasses! He wants your glasses!"
Rita shakes her head furiously. She's spent far too much on her beloved gold frames to let some wicked beast snatch them. Dropping her quill and parchment, she reaches up, losing her balance as she grips the frame. With a scream, she falls unceremoniously to the ground, pain shooting through her body. Her grip loosens, and the Niffler disappears, Rita's glasses tucked between his teeth.
"Careful," Leland says, rushing over. "Your ankle looks sprained. I don't think it's broken, but we'll have to get you to the infirmary."
Rita narrows her eyes at him. A new idea for an article flashes through her mind. Never mind the Niffler sanctuary and all the good the day. This incompetent fool stood there while one of the creatures attacked her! She will expose the sanctuary and let the world know how little they care for their patrons.
…
The Healer smiles warmly, but it does nothing to make Rita feel better. "Nasty sprain," she confirms. "Looks like you sprained your wrists when you fell. A few scratches on your face, but Nifflers are quite gentle. I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy, dear!"
Rita offers the woman her sweetest smile. "Thank you," she says, though she's already making a note that the sanctuary's Healer seems perfectly happy to sound dismissive when evaluating her injuries.
…
Rita sits at her desk, proudly beaming at the newspaper. Her first article may not have made the front page, but it's close enough that readers will still be excited when they see it.
Niffler Sanctuary: Safe Haven or Safety Hazard?
The headline warms her heart. She had been worried the article would be rejected, but Barnabas had welcomed it. True journalism isn't about reporting how happy and bright the world is; sometimes it takes guts to tackle the nastier things in life, and Rita is more than happen to keep up the exposure.
"Who knew journalism could be so dangerous, eh?" Barnabas calls, stepping into her office. "You won't believe all the outraged letters we've already received!"
Rita smirks. A true journalist makes her readers question everything. She has done her job well. "It's a shame I had to get hurt on the job to raise awareness," she says, adjusting her glasses. "Still, if it prevents a reader from being attacked, it was worth it."
"That's the right attitude," her editor says proudly. "Anything for the good of the public!"
He starts to leave but hesitates and chuckles. "Nearly forgot. I got you a gift so you won't be too distracted next time," he says reaching into his pocket and retrieving a package. "First rule of journalism is to be aware enough to notice everything!"
Rita accepts the package, opening it quickly. When she sees the Quick-Quotes Quill, she feels as though she might melt into a puddle of joy. Her assignments will be much more interesting from now on; she can already tell.