A/N: I decided to go with a different approach to introducing Harry to the other person. In this case it is following Rita and creating an origin story for her.
Common Intro to all One-shots (Skip to the scenario if you already read the intro and don't need the context)
JUNE 1989 - Harry is 8 years old
Harry Potter found himself running for his life again. His cousin Dudley and his gang of bullies had started another round of Harry Hunting almost as soon as the school day had ended. Harry was usually quite good at avoiding capture, but Dudley's bumbling horde had unwittingly caught him in a daydream about enjoying the pleasant early June weather with a quiet picnic by a lake. Until that point it had been a rare good day at school without trouble from either Dudley's gang or teachers.
He even felt good about the exams he had taken that day for History and Science, two of his favorite subjects, though he wasn't allowed to do too well lest he face punishment for exceeding Dudley's grades. Harry shook off his reverie so that he could focus on escaping. Unfortunately, in his lack of focus, Harry had run himself into a dead end behind the school kitchens. He was silently cursing his situation of being an 8-year old who constantly put up with bullying and abuse everywhere he turned.
Clearing his mind again, Harry stood still to listen for Dudley's approach while quietly looking around for escape options, but soon realized his only hope to avoid the Hunt today would be to hide behind the nearby big trash cans. Dudley and crew were just about to turn the corner, so Harry closed his eyes thinking only of getting to a place where Dudley's gang could not find him and made a leap to get to his hiding spot.
And that's when Harry felt the strangest and most uncomfortable sensation in the world. His body felt like it was being compressed from all sides then being pushed through a tube.
Scenario 3 - Rita Skeeter
Meanwhile somewhere in Diagon Alley, Rita Skeeter was having a bad day, both personally and professionally. She had just gotten back from visiting her mother in the long-term ward of St. Mungo's and was now in her boss's office being chastised for her writing. Daily Prophet editor Barnabus Cuffe was once again reprimanding and insulting Rita for her low readership numbers.
"Rita, everything you write is just so uninteresting and boring," Cuffe said lazily as he drew out the last word. "There's no doubt that your technical writing is very good, but people want sizzle! And to be entertained! And that sells newspapers!" he said energetically as he slapped his desk after each phrase.
Rita bit her quill to hold back a retort. Though her articles weren't the most popular, she knew for a fact that her spotlight on certain topics had ruffled feathers and initiated some policy changes while preventing others. Yes, they were boring, but they were impactful as well.
There was silence as the bombastic editor retrieved something from his bottom desk drawer. "You write plain, boring facts without any personality. Similar to you, actually. Even your grey dress is boring, Rita," Cuffe mocked her offhandedly as he focused on pouring himself a glass of brandy. He breathed in the fumes from the alcohol and took a sip acting as though he were the only person in his office.
The witch huffed then drew a deep breath to calm herself after again being ridiculed by her editor. This foul wizard's persistent comments about her appearance were increasingly grating and unwelcome and one day she would reach a breaking point. Besides, there was nothing wrong with dressing conservatively and professionally, in her opinion. Her preferred outfits were livelier than her work clothes and best reserved for her personal time. She had to set all that aside for now though and focus on her boss's attack on her writing and choice of topics.
"Mr. Cuffe, there is serious corruption in some parts of the Ministry and the public deserves to know the truth," Rita said with conviction. Cuffe merely shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of brandy.
The angry journalist squinted her eyes at her editor's reaction. She needed him to see reason. "Did you know that the budgeted funds to repave Knockturn Alley this year completely disappeared and the project was never even started? Knockturn will continue to be a dilapidated, dangerous area and the public will be none the wiser to the crime. That's wrong, Barnabas!" Rita said incredulously.
Cuffe shook his head, "No, Rita. Nobody cares about Knockturn Alley and nobody is interested in your coverage of the minutiae and inner workings of the Ministry and Wizengamut."
"Are you saying we should just allow these corrupt politicians to avail themselves of our taxes?" Rita asked unbelievingly with exasperation.
Cuffe held up his hand to stop Skeeter's objections and then continued, "All I'm saying is to let sleeping Crups lie, Rita. In fact, I'm getting pressure from the Minister's office asking you to completely stop writing about them. Key officials are baffled by how you may have come across some sensitive details and aren't privy to what I know about you. Nonetheless, they and their allies made some compelling arguments, so drop any articles that are in progress."
"That's preposterous!" a shocked Rita responded. She couldn't believe this was happening. All that hard work for nothing. And did Cuffe just imply he was paid off by the Ministry?
The editor's jocular behavior was gone. "But it's all true. You wouldn't want them noticing a beetle flying around next time, would you?" Cuffe hummed and tilted his head to ensure she understood his meaning.
Rita felt like she had just been slapped in the face. Cuffe had just threatened her. "You wouldn't? Where's the loyalty to your staff? Where's your journalistic integrity, Cuffe? What's even the point of the Daily Prophet if we aren't informing the public?" Skeeter blurted out, unable to control her anger, waving her quill around in her hand as she spoke.
Cuffe snorted. "Pish posh. Don't pretend you have the moral high ground, Rita. Honest, innocent people have gotten caught in your wake and been worse off after your stories. You're no better than me, but at least I'm honest with myself."
Rita went to object, but Cuffe interrupted before she got a word out. She simply bit her quill as she roiled in rage and then her editor continued, "You and I both know you have gotten some stories through unscrupulous, illegal means. Powerful people - the wrong kind of people - find them damaging and the public doesn't care in any case. That's the wrong mix of potions ingredients for a newspaper."
"What do the means matter when truth and justice are at stake?" she said somewhat defeated. They both knew there were no more arguments to make. Editor trumped writer. He could now keep her on a leash.
Cuffe coughed, took a long drink of his brandy, and went in for the kill. He spoke much more seriously and quietly than before, "Listen closely, Rita, as I'm only saying this once. I'm going to give you a reprieve on your insubordination, but this is your last warning. Take heed, Rita, or as you won't be able to care for your ailing mother from a cell in Azkaban."
Skeeter bit off the end of her quill to stem back the animalistic urge to fight back against a predator. Self control told her it was time for flight, not fight.
Ignoring the crack of the quill, the publisher continued with a crescendo, "Give me larger than life stories about larger than life people. The average wizard doesn't want the mundane, they want the sensational. We're magical! Leave boring to the Muggles. Now get out of my office and go find a story I can publish!"
A red-faced Rita Skeeter stormed out of the office without saying a word to her editor after being dismissed. She was, at present, an emotional wreck. Rita was furious at Cuffe for coercing her into yellow journalism, while also terrified at the prospect of losing her job, facing legal trouble for being an unregistered animagus, and not being able to afford her mother's care at St. Mungo's. She walked by her waiting photographer and yelled, "Let's go, Bossington!"
The photographer stood and said in an aggrieved tone, "Rita, you know I hate my first name. Just call me by my last name like you always do."
"How about Bozo instead?" the journalist sarcastically said to the photographer.
"Uh, I guess it's better than Bossington, but I'm not crazy for it and prefer Briarpatch," the newly minted Bossington 'Bozo' Briarpatch muttered, not picking up on the sarcasm. Seeing a distressed and distant look on his boss, a confused Bozo continued, "Well then. Why are we leaving? There's tea and biscuits back in your office and you're supposed to be writing the Knockturn Alley piece."
"We have neither the time nor luxury to relax, Bozo. The story is dead," she said in a broken voice as she pointed her wand at the door to open it. Rita paused for a moment as Bozo stared at her with raised eyebrows, witnessing a significant transformation in her demeanor. Her face changed to a stony, uncaring expression as she began power walking to get out of the Daily Prophet offices into Diagon Alley. Before exiting the building, she looked back at Bozo and snarled between gnashed teeth, "We're going to look for a new story, but first, I need a new quill."
The words had barely finished coming out of Rita's mouth as she collided with someone who was standing in the entrance to the Daily Prophet and they both tumbled to the ground. Some passersby chuckled and made a few indiscernible comments to each other as they continued walking and laughing.
The collision had turned her around and knocked her to her hands and knees. Even her purse was sent flying and was several feet away. Rita, whose emotions were already in turmoil, had reached her threshold and strangers laughing at her pushed her to a boiling point. Without looking, she immediately lashed out at the unknown culprit behind her over this embarrassing scene unfolding in public, "Will you watch where you're going! Are you blind or just stupid?!"
Harry scrambled back startled at the angry insult. He didn't say a word and simply stared wide-eyed at the woman that had knocked him over. Silence usually yielded better outcomes than words whenever someone was angry at him. His words often made things much worse, especially with the Dursleys.
Rita got up and used her wand to summon her purse and dusted herself off. Then began ranting at the assailant she had yet to see, "It appears stupid is the ans-." The rest of the biting retort got caught in her throat as her eyes landed on a little boy with a pale face and frightened expression who was on the ground backing away from her. Rita felt like dragon dung. Even worse than when Cuffe threatened and berated her.
"Oh dear. Young man, I'm so sorry for screaming at you. Are you alright?" the journalist asked in an apologetic, caring tone. The stony visage and dangerous glint in her eyes were gone. Her transformation was temporarily undone.
Harry didn't reply. The many years of unpleasant experiences with the Dursleys made him wary of people whose anger was directed at him. He was also a bit annoyed with the rude behavior considering this woman ran into him. Harry contemplated apologizing and taking the blame to get away from her, but suddenly pushed himself back away from the woman, who was now trying to grab him.
The journalist raised an eyebrow at the boy who flinched when she tried to help him stand. She quickly assumed there must be an unsavory history with the boy to get that type of reaction. Being kind to a child never hurts, even more so to those that flinch at being touched. Rita began in a playful tone, "Oh my, you're a jumpy one, aren't you? I assume that makes sense after I knocked you over and insulted you. I promise I won't bite. My apologies, Mister…" and Rita gestured for Harry to share his name.
Harry didn't initially understand what the woman wanted him to say, but finally understood after she once again nodded her head with a half smile and made a subtle hand gesture. "Oh, uh, my name is-is Harry," he stammered. In his nervousness, Harry neglected to accept the apology.
After a moment he realized she had asked for his last name and timidly added, "Mr. Potter is what I think you were probably asking."
Rita held her breath and made eye contact with Bozo, whose shocked, unblinking expression mirrored her own. A greedy glint appeared in her eyes. This was no mere child. Had they just literally stumbled across Harry Potter? An interview with the Boy-Who-Lived would certainly change her fortunes and provide protection against Cuffe's blackmail. They had to play this situation right if they were to get the information they needed. Rita knew exactly which tack to take. A little kindness could be profitable indeed.
Rita put the facsimile of a big friendly, toothy smile on her face, but lowered the wattage to a small grin after Bozo emphatically shook his head with a disturbed expression. He would later tell her she had looked maniacal and predatory. "Ah, thank you, Harry. I noticed you were looking at the latest edition of the Daily Prophet on the window. I'm a journalist for the paper. My name is Rita Skeeter and this is Bozo, my photographer. Which story caught your eye?"
Harry didn't know whether he should reply and stayed silent while ruminating over his predicament. Journalists knew stuff. Maybe she could tell him where he was and how he got there. "Um, well, I wasn't actually reading any of the articles. The photographs were more interesting. I've never seen photos move. Is there some sort of small screen behind the paper?"
"No, just your average everyday photograph." Rita paused when she saw the confused face on the Boy-Who-Lived. Something very odd was happening here. "Surely you've seen a wizarding photograph before, Harry?" she asked hopefully.
Harry glanced at the newspaper for a moment and then shook his head at Rita. "Never in my life. Photos are still and films move," he said matter of factly.
"Really? Never?" she said in astonishment. This story was getting juicy, yet Rita felt somewhat bad for misleading a child. She buried her concerns by saying it was Harry Potter, not a child.
"Never." He then glanced down Diagon Alley and pointed as he continued, "Did you know there is a white building called Gangrene's that has little men with swords standing in front? All of the businesses here have strange things like that, things I've never seen. They all say something about magic, but my Uncle Vernon is very serious about odd things like magic not existing in real life. This whole place is odd. He would hate it here and hate me being here, not that I care. Honestly, I don't even know where I am and don't know how I got here. What is this place?"
Rita felt giddy. This story was writing itself! How could Harry Potter not know about magic? She had the story of the year on her hands! Unfortunately, she needed to get permission from his guardians for an interview. Unless…
"This is Diagon Alley, the high street for witches and wizards in Britain, and it is absolutely full of magic. It's located in London and non-magical people can't see it on their own. Has your Uncle Vernon not told you about any of this?" Rita said with a faux concerned tone. The question was designed to yield a treasure trove of information about the boy's situation.
Harry gave a hearty laugh and said through mirthless chuckles, "Really, London? I sure am far from home. Uncle Vernon doesn't take me anywhere or tell me much of anything, except assigning chores and blaming me for everything. He hates anything out of the ordinary, including me, and is not shy about showing it. Aunt Petunia's the same. That's his wife and my mum's sister."
Now that was intriguing. Rita scrunched her face and began speaking sympathetically, "I'm terribly sorry to hear about your callous relatives, Harry. Unfortunately, it sounds like you live with them. If you don't mind me asking, what happened to your parents?"
Harry sighed and answered in a staccato, "Yeah...I live with them...and my cousin Dudley...ever since I was a baby...don't really know much...about my mum and dad." He sniffed and stopped to adjust his bent glasses before continuing, "The only things Aunt Petunia told me is that my dad was a lazy, good-for-nothing street magician and that my parents died in a drunken car accident."
Internally, Rita was beside herself with excitement and relief. If Cuffe wanted sensational, then here it was and he would come begging her for more. This was the juiciest story ever! Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Vanquished-You-Know-Who, lived a wretched life with his mum's Muggle family and didn't know anything about magic and their society. How could this ever be allowed to happen to such a famous wizard? The cover up would be its own headline story. The best part about his guardians being Muggles was that she didn't need their permission for interviewing an underage wizard.
Harry was too busy getting his breathing under control to notice the myriad of emotions passing over Rita's face. He assumed her silence was shock. He then slowly turned 360 degrees with his head shifting to take in every detail of Diagon Alley. "D-do you think my parents knew about this...Alley?" he asked with hope in his voice.
His question struck at her one gnawing concern. Should she actively help this ignorant, downtrodden orphan boy? Helping Harry undermined the story. Misleading him about what she was doing let the story live.
Shaking off her musings, Rita went back in character. "Oh, Harry, that is awfully tragic, especially for someone of such a young age," the reporter said as she put her hand on Harry's shoulder.
Harry fidgeted under her touch and shifted his body away from her.
Touching him was a misstep and she thus removed her hand to recover their rapport. She quickly added, "If you were able to get to Diagon Alley on your own, then I have no doubt your parents knew about it as well. If so, then it's likely your father was a wizard and your mother a witch. That's much better than being a tawdry magician. If you're lucky, you might even be a wizard yourself. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
It did sound wonderful and Harry replied excitedly, "I don't know what that would mean, but it sounds brilliant!" He then appeared as though he suddenly remembered something important and asked, "By the way, how do I come and go from Dia...Diagon Alley? I need to get home to do my chores."
Rita couldn't let the boy out of her sight, not if she wanted the interview. "The rest of my afternoon is free. Why don't I take you there? Would you mind if I interviewed you about your first time in Diagon Alley while we traveled?" She felt somewhat bad about how things were transpiring, but her hide was on the line. Between Harry Potter and herself, she was definitely picking her own well-being and it wasn't like he was actually being harmed.
"An interview is fine. Are you sure you want to take me? It's quite a bit out of the way. I live in Little Whinging in Surrey."
"Absolutely! I'm an adult and you, you are a lost child in London. It would be irresponsible of me to abandon you at this point. Besides, Harry, you're doing me the favor of an interview; a human interest piece about a boy's first impressions of magic and Diagon Alley. People will love the unique perspective! We'll walk back to the Alley's entrance, stop by for ice cream at Fortescue's, and you can tell me what you think about all the magical businesses we walk by. Would you like some pictures, too?"
The trio proceeded to walk down Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron, ordered ice cream cones to go, and took photographs together along the way. Rita and Bozo made sure that nobody noticed the Boy-Who-Lived by each discreetly casting a Notice-Me-Not charm on him. They went through the Alley and the pub undisturbed and then took the train from a station near the Cauldron to Little Whinging.
When they got to Privet Drive, Harry hugged them both and said, "Rita, Bozo, thank you for a great afternoon. I really appreciate you telling me about magic and helping me understand more about my parents. Could you send me a copy of the interview?"
Ugh, the guilt was threatening to overtake Rita, but she was already in too deep to turn back and continued the ruse. "Oh, Harry, the pleasure is all ours. You were excellent company. We can do better than send you a copy of the interview. Instead we'll bring a copy personally in a few weeks and we can talk more about magic. Would you like that?"
Harry's face lit up with the idea that he would learn more about magic from these two kind people. "I would love it!" he said brightly. "We just have to make sure my relatives aren't around. They wouldn't take too kindly to being bothered by a witch and wizard," he whispered as they got closer to #4.
The interview with Harry Potter was published the following day and turned Magical Britain on its ear. Rita Skeeter used her newly found leverage of being the sole news source for Harry Potter to get a raise and obtain a secrecy oath from Barnabas Cuffe about her being an unregistered animagus. Rita continued using her beetle form to constantly spy on people and published increasingly salacious articles. She never used her beetle form with Harry because he freely granted her an interview series. The fallout of the Harry Potter interviews would have far reaching consequences. Harry didn't begin to realize his part until he went to Hogwarts and found out that the whimsical articles Rita Skeeter had shared with him were forged. He seethed at the betrayal, however, Harry did get more sympathetic treatment from students and staff members than he would have had Rita Skeeter not conned him into interviews.