DISAPPEARANCE OF RITA SKEETER
by Thurgood Montgomery

It has been weeks since anyone has heard news of beloved reporter for the Daily Prophet, Rita Skeeter.

During her tenure as a reporter for the Daily Prophet, she tackled large project after large project, never stopping until she had everything she needed for the story. From the Westminster Vampire Coven atrocity to the Goblin Mafia conspiracy, she dove in and did what needed to be done to inform you, our beloved readers, of the events of our world.

Most recently she had been assigned to the incredible events of the Triwizard Tournament. With four champions and one of them being a muggle soldier, there was no shortage of story to be had.

Yet, when she began investigating the infamous Task Force Ansible, muggle soldiers that have been brought into magical society, things began to take a turn for the worse. She began being harassed by security forces deployed to Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and then, suddenly, disappeared.

Witnesses state that she was seen leaving Hogsmeade of her own volition and nothing after that. While there is no direct evidence to point to anyone being responsible for her disappearance, her investigation into the shadowy military muggles appears to be her final story.

Rest assured, dear readers, for this reporter will be paying very close attention to Task Force Ansible. Keep your subscriptions up-to-date for the latest news.

Brad stood outside the cave entrance. It was the largest of the network of caves above FOB Phoenix and his theory was that this would be the location of the second task. He'd found several nooks and crannies that could hide important items or adversaries.

He flipped the panoramic night vision device down in front of his eyes. The device had, by far, the best resolution of any NVD he'd ever used. Everything had a whitish blue tinge and appeared crisply, as opposed to the grainy green he used to see. He also had a ninety-seven degree field of view, a far cry from previous generations that made it seem like he was looking through binoculars, if only for the limited field of view.

Brad burst in through the cave entrance. He knew it was pitch black as he went inside but he could see clearly. He moved quickly and with practiced ease, stepping over a ridge in the stone ground. He pushed his rifle to the right, clearing a small alcove, and moved on.

He dipped under stalactites and through the small forest of stalagmites, not stumbling at all. He cleared each nook and each cranny until he reached the end of the cave. Glancing down at his watch he smiled.

It took him twenty-four minutes and eighteen seconds to clear the cave. When he'd first started it took him an hour and ten minutes to reach the end. That wouldn't have cut it. He felt ready for the second task and began working his way out of the cave.

The walk down to FOB Phoenix was peaceful. He listened to birds chirping their songs to each other. In his full kit he felt out of place in such a serene forest and he simply did his best not to disturb the wildlife on his way.

When he reached the FOB he took his kit off and set it all aside in a box. He stowed the box in the back of a Humvee that would be running supplies to Hogwarts, figuring he could catch a ride back.

"Captain," Colonel Sumner surprised him. Brad turned away from the Humvee to face the colonel. Last he'd heard, Colonel Sumner would be spending a few days in London at the behest of the Ministry of Magic. They'd launched a full inquiry into the disappearance of Rita Skeeter and it seemed they were determined to place the blame on TFA.

"I thought you'd be in London by now, sir."

"Sergeant Matthews volunteered to handle the assignment," Sumner replied.

"Hmm." Brad wasn't sure what to think of that. Mike was the last person in the entire task force that he would expect to volunteer for an assignment to London, especially one that would keep him away on Valentine's Day.

"Things going okay for him?" Sumner asked. Honestly, he was wondering the same thing. Mike and Hermione seemed to be solid, he had no idea why Mike would bug out like that.

"I'll look into it, sir," Brad replied, making up his mind to go find Hermione and see how she was holding up. He felt bad, he'd been spending so much time checking out the caves and preparing for the second task that he hadn't really spent much time with his team. Could things have been deteriorating?

"You do that. And Captain, stay the fuck out of the records room." Sumner turned and headed back to the command building. So much for getting a stealthy leg up on the competition.

A few minutes later the Humvee was on the road and heading back to Hogwarts. Hogsmeade Highway, the name given to the path between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade by TFA mission planners, was busy with happy couples heading to and from town.

Once he'd made it to the castle, he began his search. He started in the Great Hall, simply because it was on the ground floor. After that he headed to the Library. When he didn't find her there, he tried the Gryffindor common room.

He found her sitting in a chair, looking out the window at the school grounds. She had an open textbook in her lap. Ancient Runes, if the homework parchment on the table next to her gave any indication.

"Hey, Hermione," Brad said. He closed the distance and sat in a chair across from her.

"Oh, hey." She seemed startled out of her thoughts and quickly shut her book. Her eyes seemed a little puffy.

"How're you doing?" Brad asked, deciding not to beat around the bush too much.

"The Colonel sent Mike to a meeting in London," she replied, her tone even. Still, in her eyes, he could see the anger she was feeling toward Colonel Sumner, the loneliness of not having Mike around.

"Yeah, duty calls at the most inconvenient times," Brad said. So, she didn't know Mike volunteered for the assignment...damned if he was going to insert himself into that particular mess.

He knew Mike pretty well and the guy was enamored with her. He couldn't think of a single reason Mike would choose to be away from Hermione in general, let alone on Valentine's Day, the day of and for relationships. Brad planned to find out as soon as he got back.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "It's just lousy," her voice almost broke, but she maintained.

"Well, I don't have much going on today, if you want to hang out," Brad offered. She smiled at him and shook her head.

"I think I'd rather work on this," she said, opening the book back up. It was, in fact, her Ancient Runes book.

"Let me know if you need anything, Hermione," Brad said, standing up. He was familiar with wanting to just be alone, but he felt like he should extend the invite anyway. Just in case.

He headed back downstairs and couldn't keep his mind from wandering to Fleur. He'd had a great time with her at the ball and then their...what, date?...at the lake. He wasn't sure it was a date, but then what else was it? They'd stayed pretty close to each other the whole time.

Standing up on the steps leading into the castle, Brad looked out at the Beauxbatons carriage. He thought about going over there to see if she was around, but what would she think of that? She was fond enough of him to rest up against him, but did that mean she wanted to date him? He didn't know girls well enough to know.

He liked how things were with her right now and he wasn't sure he wanted to meddle with it, wasn't confident that he could meddle with it without blowing it to smithereens. Where would they go? What would they do? Or would she laugh him off?

Not for the first time, he felt completely out of his depth. She was a gorgeous witch and he was a soldier. Until this morning he would have felt like it was an unlikely but possible combination. But Mike skipping out on Hermione made him wonder.

With a final glance at the Beauxbatons carriage, he headed back inside. He could always pass the time cleaning his HK416.

Fleur watched as Brad turned and headed back into the castle, and her heart sank a little. They hadn't talked since that night at the lake. It had been so close and comfortable. She figured it was just because he was busy trying to figure out how to hold his breath for an hour.

But, today was La St-Valentin. She hadn't said it out loud to anyone but Clara, but she'd been hoping he'd ask her to be his valentine, or something at least. It was the first time since Clara had met her that Fleur had wanted a valentine at all.

"Oh for goodness sake," Clara groaned as Brad turned to head back inside. "I'll go get him and drag him out here!"

"No, don't!" Fleur exclaimed as Clara started to stand up and head to the door.

"Neither of you are making any moves," Clara replied throwing her hands up in exasperation. She didn't go for the door but she didn't sit down either. "At this rate you'll start your dating life at eighty!"

"Who said he even wants to date me?" Fleur asked, voicing the concern that had seeded itself deep inside her since she'd started paying attention to him.

"You're part Veela!" Clara cried out, taking a seat on the edge of her own bed. "You can date anyone you want!"

"He's different," Fleur said, and they both knew it was true. By now any other boy she'd given any indication of attraction to had turned into a blithering idiot and started trying to court her in the most insane ways.

She recalled one boy who had tried to impress her by transfiguring a snake into a kitten. He hadn't mentioned that he'd used transfiguration to get her the kitten, nor that he was terrible at transfiguration. The cat had barely left his hand when it turned back into a very upset snake. She still had a pair of dots on her right hand from where she'd been bitten.

Brad was different. She had never let herself relax with another boy as much as she had with him and he remained a regular human being. She didn't have to reign in her magical allure when she was sitting with him. He just continued to treat her like she was just a regular person, none of that insane worship.

The downside of it was that she had no idea if he was just being kind and polite or if he was really attracted to her. She enjoyed being able to be herself around him and didn't want to mess that up.

"I'm just saying, if neither of you make a move then you're not going to get anywhere," Clara said. "If we aren't going to go track him down can we at least go get some chocolate from the dining room?"

Madame Maxine had always been big on holidays and liked to decorate the school. She'd had to settle for decorating the interior of the carriage this year, but she'd gone all out and the fountain of chocolate had been a favorite all day.

Mike sat still in his Class A uniform, now being worn for its second time, as he listened to the droning voices of Ministry officials go on and on about the disappearance of Rita Skeeter. He almost, almost, regretted volunteering for the assignment. Someone from TFA had to be present at the inquiry and the logical choice was Sumner. It took Mike a little bit of work, but he'd managed to convince Sumner that he could handle it.

He suspected Sumner hadn't wanted to come in the first place, and it conveniently lined up with the set-up for the second Triwizard task. Mike was going to be the objective for Brad to retrieve from the bottom of the lake. Sumner had gone into detail about the security measures in place to ensure his safety but ultimately left it up to Mike to choose. Since it lined up with his objective of going to London, he decided to do it.

"So we all are in agreement that the last place Ms. Skeeter was seen was in the hands of the American soldiers in Hogsmeade, correct?" It was Johan Carmichael, a lackey if Mike had ever seen one. So far he'd tried to pin, directly or indirectly, the disappearance of Rita squarely on TFA and, like a puppy looking for his master's approval, he kept glancing over at Fudge while he spoke. The head of DMLE, who had up to this point had not been allowed to present her evidence, had repeatedly reminded the man that she'd been seen afterward many times on her way out of Hogsmeade.

"No, sir," Amelia Bones answered tiredly. The poor Director seemed to have her work cut out for her. She appeared singularly determined to keep the hearing fair and forthright, which Mike appreciated. He had been present not to provide testimony or answer questions, but more as a literal focus for political finger pointing. "I have more evidence to present on this and, again, I would like to present it."

The chamber remained silent for a moment. So far, every time she'd asked to present her evidence, she had been cut off by one politician or another as they tried to inject more fury into the mix. This time, no one seemed to have anything to say.

"Very good," she said, standing up and smoothing her robes. She reminded him of a younger Professor McGonagall, if only in her mannerisms. She seemed tightly wound and professional, a no nonsense worker.

"Now," she announced, pointing her wand to her throat and causing a microphone effect so that her voice was easily heard everywhere. "At my direction, investigators were sent to the work space and residence of Ms. Skeeter. Our goal was to find any possible motive to harm her."

"You did what, now?" one of the politicians cried out in interruption. To her credit, Director Bones remained calm and professional at the outburst.

"It is standard policing procedure and has been for many centuries," she said patiently, then continued. "What we uncovered was...surprising." She paused, looking for the right words to say. "I cannot comment on ongoing investigations, of which there are now several. What I can say is that Ms. Skeeter had a tremendous supply of evidence connecting her to blackmail, extortion, and various other illegal activities. She had many more potential enemies and I doubt very much if we will ever discover the true culprit."

"What evidence of blackmail?" another low level politician asked with a distinctly worried look on his face. Mike suppressed a smile.

"As I said, I will not comment on ongoing investigations. I will, however, state that we have no evidence linking Task Force Ansible with the disappearance of Rita Skeeter. Furthermore, we have evidence that she may have involved herself with other groups that were much more likely to orchestrate her disappearance."

"So you're certain that Task Force Ansible," Minister Fudge, a little fatter since the last time Mike had seen him, started, "has nothing to do with the disappearance of this valued member of the press?"

Mike was amused at the look of irritation that passed across Director Bones' face. It never showed in her voice, however, and Mike gave her points for her it. "I cannot say one way or the other whether or not they're responsible. I can, however, say we have no direct evidence that they are behind it and we do have evidence that she had been involved with dangerous criminals."

There was a lot of back and forth after that, mostly direct questions about the investigation that Director Bones had to decline to answer or skirt politically.

Things finally, finally came to an end when it was declared that the investigation was complete and inconclusive. There had not been enough evidence to declare TFA responsible for the disappearance. As they were dismissed, Mike made his exit quickly. The last thing he wanted was to be cornered by some politician with an angle, whatever it may be.

As he made his way down rows of seats he saw no fewer than four individuals trying to catch up with him. He ducked through a doorway that lead further into the Ministry and immediately doubled back, making his way to another set of doors that lead back into the tribunal chamber. He slipped back inside and was pleased to see that the ones determined to have words with him were nowhere in sight, undoubtedly hunting through the rest of the Ministry.

Mike found a bathroom and changed from his Class A uniform into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He stowed the uniform neatly in his backpack, freshly enchanted by his very smart girlfriend to act as a closet. He could hang ten sets of Class A's in the backpack and trust them to stay neatly pressed. She was a genius.

Without assistance it was difficult, but he managed to make his way to a general exit which took the form of a painting of a decrepit alley in downtown London. He stared at it for several long moments before finally deciding to touch the painting. As soon as he touched it he was yanked through.

He felt his feet touch the ground and he slid forward, straight at a dumpster. His hands shot out in front of him and when he caught the dumpster he came to a stop. Not at all graceful, but he supposed it would do. Cautiously he let go of the dumpster and found that his hands were sticky with something. He wasn't sure what it was and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Looking around himself, Mike found nothing to clean his hands with. Grimacing he wiped his hands on his jeans. His hands were a little drier now, but still sticky, and now his jeans had dark streaks on them.

"That didn't work well," he muttered, frowning at his pants. Thus far he had only talked to his contact over mail, but Mike had the impression that he was dealing with someone in the upper echelons of society. The stationary he'd used, the neat handwriting and the big words all pointed to a rich, educated man. And thanks to the dumpster and Mike's lack of regular suits, he was going to show up looking like a hobo.

He'd considered staying in his Class A uniform but he wasn't comfortable rolling through downtown London in uniform. It raised a lot of eyebrows. So jeans it was. Dirty jeans.

Mike ducked out of the alleyway and headed north, passing a McDonald's. The streets were packed with cars, and pedestrians lined the sidewalks. People going about their business without a care in the world, completely unaware that magic existed.

He tried to remember what his life was like before knowing magic was a thing. He was destined to kick down doors in third world countries, fighting terrorists. The revelation of magic to JSOC had sent him on this path, leading to here of all places. Not a bad deal at all.

As Mike arrived at the destination address, he felt the confirmation of his worries sink in. The small parking lot adjacent to the building contained nothing cheaper than a Porsche and the shop itself looked like you needed to own a tux just to look through the window.

Mike sighed and headed inside. There were high end suits on racks, rows of ties and polished shoes. He passed the clothing and went straight to the back where a tall, thin man, immaculately dressed, was standing behind the counter.

"Might I suggest the discount store down the road?" the man asked, giving Mike an appraising look. Mike sighed, knowing that jab was coming.

"I'm actually here for something different," Mike replied coolly. There was no sense getting offended by the pompous guy. "I'd like to talk to Mr. Fredrick."

"Indeed." Mike smiled as the man's eyebrows raised halfway up to his hairline. Without another word he ducked back into a room behind the counter. After a long moment a frail old man hobbled out. Mike was surprised to see the man walking and half expected to see him crumple to the floor. He made it to the counter, however, and stared at Mike for a moment.

"Uh, hello," Mike broke the silence. The old man smiled at him, showing crooked teeth.

"She must be important to you," the old man said, pointing a shaking finger at Mike. To this point, Mike had not mentioned exactly who he was getting the ring for, but he supposed it was easy to surmise.

"She is," Mike agreed.

"I hadn't expected a muggle to be so educated in Ancient Runes, nor to have such taste." He bent down behind the counter and Mike stood up on his toes to watch, fearing that the old man might keel over at any moment. Thankfully, the man managed to stay upright as he retrieved a small box from a safe underneath the counter.

"Well, she encourages me to do my homework," Mike said, staring at the box. He'd found that, due to US Army regulation, he had been getting paid since his conscription at seven years old. It was an account he had access to and though the interest rate of zero left something to be desired, he had a healthy supply of money set aside.

Since he'd never had any reason to use it he hadn't given it any thought. He was feeling particularly serious about things with Hermione though, especially since the Ball. She always kept him on his toes and everything in the world felt right when she was around. That was the kind of girl you strive to keep.

He wasn't looking at marriage at this point, though that was mostly because he feared she would think he was moving too fast. But, he'd been secretly reading a book on relationships, reading being something he did more and more since dating Hermione, and one of the pages talked about the promise ring.

It was an open ended thing, the promise ring. It could mean a million different things and was pretty much up to each couple to determine its meaning. Mike was certain at this point he was going to do whatever it took to keep Hermione. Everything in his life was better with her in it.

The promise ring was going to be a physical reminder of the next step he was about to take with her. He was certain of it and terrified of it at the same time. He knew in his heart, without doubt or reservation, that he was in love with her.

Yet, to this point, they had never used that word with each other. They often talked about how much they enjoyed each other's company. They talked about everything together and he felt there was an unspoken agreement that they loved each other.

And so he decided to purchase a promise ring for her, a gift to give her the first time he said out loud that he loved her. She didn't deserve just any ring, however. She often had homework to do and he heard her talking often about her love for Ancient Runes. It was a complicated class involving the deciphering of an ancient language and so far she was the only one he knew that enjoyed it.

A little earlier in the year, while he was reading a book on ancient magical warfare, he learned of an ancient gem-alloy of sorts called a Lifestone. The alloy was created at the request of a queen who had married a great warrior-king. She feared for his life every moment he was away and his wars were often waged for years at a time.

And so she commissioned a great wizard, Ommin, to create a ring that would always tell her if her husband was alive. He toiled for years over it, eventually creating a beautiful gemstone of swirling shades of green and blue with a crimson point in the center, the blood which linked the ring to it's subject. He fastened the gem into a ring and told her that, should the gem ever turn black, that would mean her husband had met his end.

Mike thought about that story for a long time and eventually started looking into it. As it turned out, Lifestone was in fact a real gem to this day, albeit very rare. He managed to track down a seller in London who was willing to fasten a Lifestone into a ring. It cost him a significant chunk of his account, but he felt it was worth it and it wasn't like he was using the money for anything else. If she chose to stay with him, and he was a soldier, at least in this way she could always check in on him. It wasn't even against regulation, being that magic was still something that the Army was working on adapting to.

He'd been sending mail back and forth, getting the order set up for the last month and he'd had to bribe one of the FOB Phoenix medics with his entire stash of MRE crackers and peanut butter, a steep price indeed, but he'd managed to obtain and send a vial of his blood, necessary to complete the spell and link him to the ring.

"Here you go, son." The man held the small box out to Mike. Mike picked it up and, after a moment's hesitation, opened the box. It was perfect.

The gem was modest, not huge and not tiny, and the swirling greens and blues sparkled beautifully, the center was a deep shade of crimson. It was fastened into a delicate silver band. Around the stone laid a neat inscription of ancient runes. "To assure my love that my heart still beats." He smiled at it, and then at the proprietor of the shop.

"It's perfect," Mike said, closing the case and slipping it into his pocket. He'd already paid for it, wiring the money to the correct account. He hadn't worried about a scam artist, confident that anyone bold enough to betray him would regret it pretty close to immediately.

"I don't make my living on anything less," the old man replied. He turned and walked back into the room and Mike left, trying to figure out when he would give her the ring.

Rufus Scrimgeour frowned as he observed the cafe just down the road. It was a habit he picked up as an Auror, scouting places before his scheduled meetings. He'd been invited to tea by someone who only identified himself as a "concerned party" in his owl mail.

The meeting was due to start soon and he still hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Deciding that it wasn't an ambush he made his way across the street and took a seat at one of the open tables. The waitress came by and he ordered a tea.

Muggles were so strange, so consumed in their own little world. Around him, couples sat close together and the cafe itself was decorated with little hearts. Valentine's day had never been a big deal to him.

It amused him sometimes, earlier in his career, to know he was waging a secret war against the Death Eaters. He had been a silent warrior keeping the muggles safe from a threat they didn't even know existed. There had been a poetic attraction to it in his days as an Auror, even if the reality of it was brutal.

Now, as the head of the Auror department, he knew just how frightfully close things had come during the war. The fighting had been bitter and the Ministry had struggled to maintain The Statute during it, but they'd managed.

"Mr. Scrimgeour." A tall man sat down across the table from him. He was neatly dressed and wore a worried look behind his thin-rimmed glasses. "I'm Howard Eden." He spoke in a Southern-American drawl and extended his hand in greeting.

Rufus recognized the name. The man had ties with Lucius Malfoy, which gave him pause. He was certain that Malfoy was a Death Eater, though he never had the proof. Still, this Eden fellow had ties now to many other Ministry officials.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Scrimgeour didn't accept the handshake and, after a moment, Eden dropped his hand to his lap. If he was offended, he didn't show it.

"I'm not really sure how to say or approach this," Eden said. He pulled out a stubby wand and fidgeted with it. Rufus shot him a dark look and, smiling shyly, he put it away. "Old habit, my apologies."

"You were saying?" Rufus asked, wanting him to get to the point already.

"I believe that Lord Voldemort is on the rise again," Eden said, deadly serious. Rufus made no outward reaction, though his heart began to hammer. That was a bold statement. Before he could make a response, however, Eden spoke again. "I believe he is on the rise and I believe Minister Fudge is actively trying to cover it up."

"That's a daring accusation," Scrimgeour said sharply, but there was a kernel of something there. He had to admit, he'd been feeling a little uneasy about the peace lately.

"I've been spending a fair amount of time with Fudge, among others," Eden replied, but he didn't seem boastful about it. "Bertha Jorkins' disappearance, no one is looking into it."

That was true, but he didn't think it had anything to do with Fudge. Bertha had always been a bit absent-minded. Though, now that he thought about it, it had been an unreasonably long time since they'd last heard from her.

"It's not just that… I've been talking with some people, who I am only just finding out were suspected of being Death Eaters." Eden wore a look of horrified innocence at the confession. "They've made little comments, here and there. Nothing overt, of course, but I can't help but be suspicious. And then there's the Potter kid, being forced into the tournament."

"That's hardly proof positive," Rufus replied, but he was already putting puzzle pieces together in his own mind. Bertha worked in Magical Games and Sports. She would have had security knowledge about both the Quidditch Cup and the Triwizard Tournament. Everyone apprehended after the riot at the Quidditch cup had been suspected Death Eaters.

"Perhaps it's nothing, but shouldn't it at least be investigated?" Eden pleaded. "I've already talked to the Minister. He is determined not to even look."

Rufus sat for a moment in thought. If the Dark Lord was indeed returning it would throw things into chaos once again. He remembered the glory of fighting those Death Eaters, but the years had made him smarter on such matters. A war was nothing to look forward to. If there was to be another war, however, they needed to be assertive. "I will look into it," he finally replied.

"Thank you," Eden sighed in relief. "I sincerely hope that I am wrong. I'll let you know if I hear anything more." Eden stood, straightening his tie, and left.

Rufus sat for a moment longer, sipping at the tea he'd ordered, trying to think of where to start his investigation.