The first thing to meet Rita's eyes when she awoke was the last thing she could have ever imagined. Through the pain of a splitting headache and the nausea of the Cruciatus Curse aftertaste Rita made out the unlikely form of Hermione Granger. The girl sat in a brown wooden chair to the side of Rita's bed. Her main of frizzy curls engulfed her head while her eyes shot downward towards a large open book. The letters in the title were fuzzy to Rita without her glasses, and, being the reporter she was, curiosity got the better of her.
"An interesting read, Miss Granger?" Rita attempted to coo. Unfortunately she was in worse condition than she thought. Her voice came out more groggy and beaten than she wished. With a startled and quick movement Hermione wiped her fuzzy main around to look down at Rita.
"It's a book on counter-curses. Perhaps you should read it," Hermione replied, her tone sharp. Rita wasn't sure if the girl was attempting humor or getting in a dig. At the present moment however, a deep pounding throb began at the base of Rita's skull detouring any retaliation she might have come up with.
Rita rested her head on the soft feather pillow of the infirmary at Hogwarts. She assumed she was at Hogwarts and as soon as the pain in her head stopped she wanted to know how exactly she came to be at Hogwarts. Hermione, being a very perceptive if not obnoxious visitor, began to answer some of Rita's questions.
"What happened to you? Harry and Ron and I were talking in the Gryffindor common room when you came tumbling in the window in bad shape. It was lucky for you that Mr. Brighthall was there. Harry and Ron might not have managed to get you down here in time," Hermione explained. The girl grasped the book in her hand rather tightly, an indication to Rita that she had been concerned. At the mention of Jerimus Rita slowly pushed herself up to a sitting position. She waited until the stain glass windows surrounding the infirmary stopped spinning before she attempted to reply.
"Mr. Brighthall?" She questioned pleased that her voice was returning to its normal pitch.
"Yes, he carried you down here, rather quickly for a blind wizard. Then he rushed off to your apartment to see if he could catch whoever did this to you," Hermione explained. Rita took in all this information with great interest but at the present moment what she found most curious was Hermione's presence.
"And I suppose you've been watching over me?" Rita again inquired, now wishing she had her quill with her. Not that it would have done any good, the Quibbler wasn't known to print human interest stories such as Hermione Watches Over Injured Reporter, but it was Rita's nature to record everything of potential article value. With an incredulous look Hermione stood up to address Rita. Rita winced at the abrupt and forward manner of the girl.
"Of course not! Do you think I actually care what happens to you? I despise you and the lies you create. In fact I don't think there is anyone in the entire world, except maybe you-know-who that I hate more than you! I was only waiting here to ask you why you came to us for help," Hermione sputtered defiantly. The girl's words brought back the headache Rita had hoped was subsiding. The last thing she wanted to think about was why her instincts chose Harry and his gang of goons over the most powerful wizard in creation. Luck was on her side as three figures entered the infirmary.
"Ah, I see Ms. Skeeter is awake," Albus Dumbledore said as he and Minerva McGonagall swept into the room. To the right of McGonagall Rita saw for the first time in five long years the impressive form of Jerimus Brighthall. Her initial reaction was to fix her hair, which had long since fallen out of the tight neatly formed curls that was her style.
"May we speak with her," Dumbledore asked to someone on the other side of Rita. Rita turned her head rather quicker than was wise and beheld Madame Pomfrey in her white nurse's uniform.
"Yes, Professor," she said and then turned to Rita, "You've been asleep for the past three days. You probably have a slight headache but it will wear off in a few hours. You're lucky that's the worst of your problems."
Rita was glad of the update on her present condition. Although Madame Pomfrey seemed quite sure a headache was the only thing plaguing Rita she was indeed wrong. Rita's legs ached from the flight to Hogwarts and the rest of her body felt like it had been slammed against a brick wall.
"We would like to ask you a few questions, about what happened," Dumbledore said directing his kind yet stern gaze at Rita. The reporter had never liked Albus Dumbledore. He was her opposite in almost every way. He was direct and to the point, he was trusting and loyal, and he, like Jerimus, could see right through her. Rita took a moment to gather her thoughts and in the silence McGonagall addressed Hermione.
"Miss Granger, you may return to your dorm. This matter does not concern you," McGonagall said severely. Hermione seemed to open her mouth to object but Dumbledore cut her off.
"Miss Granger, you've been at Ms. Skeeter's side for the past three days. As kind as the gesture is I'm sure you have homework to catch up on," he gently prompted. Rita smirked to herself. The brat was concerned. With a low and defeated countenance Hermione hugged the large dusty book to her chest and began to leave.
"Wait," Rita began, delighted at the interesting situation. Nothing this exciting had happened to her for a long, long time. Mostly, wizards and witches as famous and powerful as Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall treated her like an obnoxious nuisance if they acknowledged her at all.
Now Dumbledore, McGonagall, Pomfrey, Jerimus and Hermione all had their eyes intently focused on Rita. Remembering the importance of good posture Rita sat up a little straighter.
"Miss Granger is very much a part of this. What has happened to me is her fault and I wish her to stay," Rita said, a little viciousness slipping into her voice. Her delight was dulled when she saw the warning stare Dumbledore gave her.
"My fault?" Hermione asked outraged. "How can this possibly be my fault?"
Rita loved getting the better of people and Hermione was such an easy target.
"Perhaps you could explain yourself, Ms. Skeeter," Dumbledore suggested. Rita took a deep breath and looked to Jerimus for support. He did not appear happy with her. The pleasant smile she remembered was no where in sight and he leaned against a desk with his arms folded. His short hair had tiny hints of grey just above his ears but his scruffy face was still as painfully handsome as ever.
"Your beloved Miss Granger has been blackmailing me into writing stories about Harry Potter," Rita snapped. McGonagall did not bother to hide her surprise as she turned her hawk eye gaze toward Hermione. Rita hid a smile as she anticipated the lecture Hermione was about to receive.
"Is this true?" McGonagall asked, looking down her spectacles at Hermione. Hermione's back straightened and Rita saw her draw a long breath as she prepared to defend herself.
"I…it's not…Yes, it's true, but someone has to get Harry's real story out," Hermione stuttered. She turned at addressed Rita with viciousness.
"And if you don't stop throwing the blame around I will tell everyone here your secret," the girl threatened. At this Rita's inward smile disappeared. Things were always fun until Hermione had to bring up Rita's amigus power.
"I am not throwing the blame around," Rita stated slowly. She took long breath and rubbed the spot between her perfectly arched eyebrows to sooth her headache.
"The last story I wrote about the-boy-who-lived was…well, condemning," Rita explained. Dumbledore smoothed his beard and appeared to be losing patience.
"Ms. Skeeter," he began calmly, "what exactly happened to you?"
Rita was no coward, but she decided she better answer the headmaster's question before he lost his temper. An angry Dumbledore thrilled her about as much as an apartment full of Death Eaters.
"They came to my apartment," Rita said through clenched teeth, "Apparently my stories about Harry Potter, however far fetched, upset the darker side of the wizarding community. They told me to join them or die. I, of course, was not happy with either option so I escaped."
"And came here?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow. Rita fidgeted uncomfortably in the bed. For the first time she realized she was at a disadvantage as the figures around interrogated her.
"Well, yes," Rita stumbled over the words, "I came here…" She trailed off only for a moment before she found reasonable justification for her actions.
"Hogwarts was the closest safe haven I could think of," she explained.
"So it was the Death Eaters who attacked you," Dumbledore said. Rita did not want to disclose all of the information about what had happened, but she knew the old wizard would not stop the interrogation until she gave him all of the facts.
"Yes," she replied, her voice bordering on a hiss.
"They must not have been very good ones, if they let you escape," Hermione shrugged. Rita was beginning to regret her decision to let Hermione stay. Rita's annoyance dissipated within the next seconds as Jerimus joined the conversation for the first time. His Scottish accent made his voice as dark as the night sky over Hogwarts.
"They didn't let her escape," he said, "She stood her ground and got away. You all forget that Ms. Skeeter is just as formidable a witch as anyone here."
Rita did not notice the reactions of her onlookers in the infirmary because she was too busy sending Jerimus a shocked stare. He always had a way of surprising her. He always seemed to overlook her insignificance. After a moment of tense silence Dumbledore finally spoke.
"Of course she is," he agreed. Rita snapped out of her momentary daze, and blamed it on her headache. Hermione face was contorted into an unpleasant scowl.
"Ms. Skeeter, you must stay here at Hogwarts. It is far too dangerous for you to be outside these walls now," Dumbledore informed. Rita hated to agree with him, but she did not wish to run into the Death Eaters a second time.
"What!" Hermione spat, doing little to hide her objection.
"Mr. Brighthall found your apartment in disarray," Dumbledore explained, the clearness of his eyes burning through Rita, "He retrieved what he could and brought it back here."
"You can stay with me in the Professor's chambers at Gryffindor," McGonagall added. The older woman sent Rita a look that the reporter could not place. Rita had made a career out of reading people's expressions, whether or not she relayed them truthfully on paper, and it was a rare occasion for her not to know one. The thought of staying with Minerva McGonagall was only slightly more appealing then the thought of facing three more Death Eaters.
"You can't be serious," Hermione blasted. "This is ridiculous. After all the slander she's printed about Harry, you are actually going to let her stay at Hogwarts?"
Rita narrowed her eyes and gave Hermione the most contemptuous look she could manage. Taking her cue from Dumbledore, Rita observed, Pomfrey ignored Hermione.
"Ms. Skeeter needs her rest," the nurse said, waving her hands as an indication it was time for all of them to leave. Hermione, with teeth clenched, stormed out of the infirmary with her hands strangling the worn old library book. Rita thought she heard the girl mumble something like 'squash her like a bug' before she was out of ear shot.
"Oh, and Ms. Skeeter," Dumbledore said before he left, "You will continue to write for the Quibbler, won't you." Rita slowly drew her eyes up to meet his. If their wills were each to take form Dumbledore's would have been a stubborn Ram unwilling to given an inch, while Rita's would have been a scorpion ready to strike with deadly precision. The conversation, however, remained civil.
"I don't think," Rita began but Dumbledore had already taken off out the door, with McGonagall close on his heels. Jerimus waited for a moment before he left. If she hadn't known better, Rita would have said he was studying her with his eyes. He said nothing but rose from his slanted position and walked over the Rita's bedside.
She looked at him curiously for a moment before she saw his hand extend toward her. Within it were the brown framed glasses she had left behind in her hurry to escape. Extending her hand full of chipped nails, she took her reading glasses from him.
"Thank you," she said simply. He faced her for a few moments before nodding slightly and exiting with the others. Rita thought the whole action odd and frowned a little. When she looked up she saw Madame Pomfrey giving her an 'I know you like him' stare.
"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Rita snapped at the nurse. It was harsh, yes, but Rita did not care. She was what she was. She looked down at the glasses in her hand, and tightly wrapped her fingers around them.