"Miss Skeeter!" Flitwick said. "Miss Hebert has performed a service for the entire Wizarding community! Why would you start making spurious accusations?"
Rita wasn't sure herself.
She'd come expecting to do a puff piece. That was what her editor had expected, and that was what she'd promised Dumbledore. While she did not fear the man, exactly, his political power was enough that he could cause serious problems for her.
In the current environment, it wasn't a good idea to alienate either of the two major groups who were vying for control of Wizarding Britain. Officially, the Prophet was very much on the side of the Ministry, but unofficially her editor was wary of offending the Death Eaters and their followers.
That was a good way to end up disappearing, and her editor had a very strong sense of self-preservation. Rita despised his cowardice sometimes, though. It would be better to let people know what was really happening, instead of just being a Ministry mouthpiece.
Yet her adoring fans expected a certain level of...spice. Playing it safe was a sure route to the unemployment line, and Rita didn't know how to do anything else. Even if she had to make up some of the particulars to make things juicier, the bare bones of the truth would get through, and that was ultimately important. Her editor continued to stymie her at every turn, though.
If they continued the way they were, she was going to work in a shop like a plebian.
The Cruciatus cure was a once in a lifetime event, but it wasn't something that affected all that many people. Certainly, Rita's second cousin had been affected, and there was some evidence that she was getting better, but it wasn't exactly a complete cure, was it?
The people who were waking up were likely always going to be half-people, cripples. It would have been better for everyone had they died long ago, but Wizarding medicine was able to keep people alive long past their allotted time.
It was important, but not that important, and yet still, the plan had been to write a soft piece talking about how this young girl was a shining example of a young witch. It was what her editor and Dumbledore were expecting from her. It would be the easiest thing to write.
If the girl had been ordinary, that was the piece Rita would have written. However, the moment she'd stepped into the room, something about the girl had struck her as wrong. There was a strange sense of horror that had washed over her the moment she'd seen Taylor Hebert, and it wasn't going away.
She'd done her research on the girl, of course. Before printing lies, it was important to know the truth, espcially because the truth was sometimes much more juicy than any lies she could possibly come up with.
What she'd found in her research hadn't been pretty. The girl had obviously been tortured with the Cruciatus curse, probably before she'd even realized that magic existed. She claimed to be an orphan, and anyone reading between the lines would realize that she was one of the muggleborn who had families murdered before the school term had even begun.
Yet there was no record of her, and the aurors didn't know anything about the murders.
There were questions, and there was nothing that Rita loved more than answering questions. She had a nose for news, and this was news.
Still, writing a puff piece now, and an expose later wouldn't have gotten her in trouble. Yet from the moment that she had walked into the room, something about the girl had made her profoundly uneasy.
It felt as though the girl's face was tight against a skull that was vaguely wrong. The way she moved was like someone who was wearing someone else's skin, as though there was something just waiting to explode out of her skin to devour her.
It didn't just bother her human self, either. The beetle was always within Rita, and that part of her was screaming predator.
On the surface, the girl looked like any other child her age. She was wearing the same uniform, her hair didn't look that much different. Maybe it was the way that she stared without blinking, her expression unlike that of any other child Rita had ever seen.
Maybe it was the obvious attempts to be dominant, made ridiculous by the fact that the girl was tiny and a first year student.
"People have questions," she said without looking at the diminutive professor. "And they deserve answers."
Hebert took a deep breath. For a moment she looked as though she was going to say something acerbic; the girl had become increasingly aggressive throughout the interview, but suddenly a strange sense of calm came over her face.
"We were vacationing," Hebert said quietly. "The jobs my parents had were no longer an issue, and it was the first time in a long time that we were going to get to be a family again. The attack came out of nowhere. I don't really remember what happened; they say the attack left me with some kinds of brain damage."
Brain damage might explain some of her behavioral issues, and maybe even her strange body language. Still, there was something off about what the girl was saying. Where had this sudden, sad sincerity come from? Was it an act, or was the girl so damaged that it was like multiple people were living in the same body?
"How hard would it be for wizards to make muggle visitors just...disaapear?" Hebert asked. "Making records vanish, officials forget. It's only surprising that they didn't make it happen to everyone."
She was talking about the muggle murders. Rita felt a sudden surge of excitement. She'd tried to report on them, but the Ministry had completely shut her down. Her editor had refused to even look at anything she wrote about it, to the point that she'd been tempted to write an anonymous article in the Quibbler just to get the ball rolling.
She leaned forward.
"And it left you all alone?" she asked.
Hebert nodded.
If Rita squinted really hard, she could almost see a tear in the corner of the girl's eye. She made sure the quill made a note of that. It could have been a trick of the light.
Maybe writing the piece she was expected to write wouldn't be a violation of her journalistic integrity. After all, what was more likely, that an eleven year old muggleborn girl would defeat the Book and the Quill and the Hat and all of the other pretections Hogwarts had, or that she really was thevictim she appeared to be?
Her magic had appeared late, presumably around the time that she was tortured. That accidental magic would explain how she survived when her parents had not.
A story about a plucky girl rising above tragedy to bring an amazing discovery would sell well. She could spin the behavioral problems as temporary side effects of the trauma of what had happened to her. She could probably write enough about what had happened to her that she could get some of the information about the murders out. She'd have to be careful and hint instead of state everything outright, but maybe this girl could be the lever she needed to split the story open outright.
"How does that make you feel?" she asked.
It was a hack question, but children were often rather stupid and weren't particularly good at expressing themselves. Sometimes you had to pull the information out of them, and being blunt was the best way to do that.
If it made them cry, all the better. After all, emotion sold papers more than bland facts. It was Rita's command of the emotion behind the story that made her the number one reporter for the newspaper.
Of course, there were only three reporters for the entire paper, and the other two were off on assignment. Dumbledore had requested either one of the others, which had miffed Rita, but she'd understood. He'd wanted a puff piece, and she wasn't exactly known for those.
He'd stared at her during the interview as though he could read her mind. Given his power, it was possible that he actually was a legilimens.
The girl grimaced at Rita's question.
"Write what you like," she said. "Whatever I say wouldn't be a tiny fraction of what I really feel. Sad? That doesn't even begin to describe what it feels like when you lose your entire world. I had friends that I won't ever see again, family that I've lost forever. Do I feel angry? Rage is more like it; when I'm old enough I plan to find the people who did this to the people I care about, and I'm going to make them pay."
Rita stared at her.
The girl was talking about going after Death Eaters as though it was a certainty. She didn't show any fear at the thought; instead there was a gleam of anticipation in her eyes.
The sense of being in the room with a predator grew even stronger, and to her surprise Rita felt herself starting to sweat.
"There are those who are whispering that you might become the next Dark Lady," Rita said finally.
"Do you think I should?" the girl asked. Her curiously blank eyes turned toward Rita, and she didn't sound as though the answer to the question mattered much to her. The girl forced herself to smile, and it looked ghastly, as though a skeleton had skin draped over it.
"I'm just kidding. I'm a regular student at this school."
That felt like the biggest lie Rita had heard since hearing that Cornelius Fudge was actually in favor of Muggleborns. He'd just used that as a campaign tactic to get in office; he was actually as prejudiced as any other pureblood.
Rita herself was a halfblood, and she hated being dismissed by purebloods because of her blood status. It had always given her a vindictive sense of pleasure to take arrogant purebloods down a peg or two. The question was, this girl was clearly not an ordinary student. At the very least she was traumatized and clearly not in her right mind.
At worst, she was like a muggle cuckoo bird. It would lay its eggs in the nest of another species, and then allow the other birds to raise its chicks. Those chicks would push the children of the other bird out of the nest, killing them.
Was this girl a savior, or a demon?
Usually Rita's gut would give her the answer, but here she couldn't be sure.
"An exceptional one," Flitwick said from behind her. "She's one of my two best students."
He'd said that before; was he saying it again for the girl's benefit? Girls at that age were emotionally vulnerable. Rita had been afraid that she'd have to hold this girl's hand throughout her interview.
How did they not see what a monster she was?
It should have been obvious to every teacher. They saw enough students on a day to day basis to have an unconscious ability to know what was normal, and this girl was not. It should have been obvious from the moment that she'd first come to class.
Still, if she tried to warn the world without some kind of proof, she'd be a laughingstock. The purebloods were convinced that the muggleborn weren't really Wizards. The way they comforted themselves was with the idea that muggleborn were barely better than squibs.
Telling them that a prominent muggleborn was a magical genius would make them question anything else she had to say, and she couldn't afford that at the moment. Sometimes truth had to be doled out in small installments in order for it to be accepted.
Worse, the families of the people the Cruciatus cure had given hope to wouldn't want to hear that the girl was a sociopath. They needed to believe that she was an angel of mercy, someone who was special.
No one would believe that an eleven year old was dangerous anyway. Most Wizards tended to be dismissive of anyone who wasn't able to do magic; first year Hogwarts students barely made the cut. The fact that the girl had killed a troll with a knife wouldn't be seen as realistic, even though Rita had heard it from multiple sources, including Dumbledore himself.
Uncertainty gnawed at her. She had every reason in the world to write a glowing piece about the girl, and writing against her would cause her all kinds of problems. Yet her readers expected more from her than just to rubber stamp what the Ministry wanted.
Her job was to warn the public.
The girl was staring at her, and after a moment, her harsh look softened.
"I'm not dangerous," she said. "Not to anyone who leaves me alone. People just tend to be afraid of anything they don't understand... especially the muggleborn. I'm afraid that a lot of the rumors about me are overblown to say the least."
The implication was that she was dangerous to those who decided to attack her. The girl could have delivered the statement in such a way as to threaten Rita herself; if she had, it would have made Rita's course clear. Nobody threatened the press, and she would have found a way to get the story to print, if she'd had to go to the Lovegoods.
But the statement was bland, and devoid of threat. It was a statement of fact.
"And how do you feel about purebloods?" Rita asked.
"Some of my best friends are purebloods," Hebert said. "I'm not unaware of some of the cultural implications, but I don't think that blood status really means that much. I believe that people should be judged by their character, and possibly by the power of their magic."
"By the power of their magic?" Rita asked. That surprised her.
"Nobody is born with magic that is stronger or weaker than anyone else," she said. "Magical power is achieved in the Wizarding world through hard work, intelligence and practice. Those are all commendable qualities in and of themselves."
"You don't think talent plays a role?" Rita asked.
"Some people have faster reflexes, which might make them better dualists, or think faster, but for day to day magic any wizard can do anything, assuming they are smart enough," Hebert said. "There's always someone who learns faster, but if you work hard you'll get there eventually."
"Would that all Wizards felt that way," Rita murmured.
Most Wizards were lazy.
It amazed Rita that so many wizards could not competently cast a shield spell. She would be dead three times over if she hadn't kept up her skills, and in the world they were living in, there was no reason not to know basic self protection. Yet most wizards and witches would prefer to listen to the Ministry and pretend that everything was fine.
Rita reached her decision.
She'd write both stories; the puff piece Dumbledore had asked for, and the piece about the dangerous muggleborn. She'd hold the damaging piece until the girl proved that she was what Rita's gut told her she was.
In the meantime, she would try to write the piece she was assigned now with references to what was happening to the muggleborn. If she was clever enough about how she wrote it, it might just slip by her editor.
He'd be angry, of course, but once the story was out, it was possible that she'd be able to write more of the stories she really wanted to write. Leaving the Wizarding population helpless wasn't her job.
She'd covered the first war with less censorship, and she sometimes wondered if there were ulterior motives behind the quashing of certain stories. Were there members of the Ministry in league with Voldemort? Did they somehow have some sort of hold over her editor?
Rita forced herself to smile.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot," she said. "Maybe we should start again. Tell me about your plans now that you have inspired a cure that has helped so many people?"
Her Quill was linked to her, so it detected her shift in mood and automatically adjusted the slant it was taking on the conversation.
The girl relaxed even though she wasn't looking at the paper. There had been rumors that the girl was a seert of some sort. It was hard to believe of a muggleborn, but maybe she really was.
Could the girl be a legilmens, or was she just somehow reading Rita's notes?
"I'd like to help everyone," the girl said. "Not just a few unfortunate victims. First, I'd like to enjoy my years at Hogwarts in peace. If that happens, I'll likely end up as a magical researcher."
Rita didn't ask what would happen in the event the girl wasn't left in peace. The part of her that was still screaming that the girl was dangerous didn't want to know.
Still, she'd be keeping her eye on the girl.