This article appeared in the March 4th 2048 edition of The Daily Prophet, in the Editorials section.
My Life of Lies: How I Shamelessly Mislead the Public
The Wizengamot has a saying, so deeply embedded in their personalities that it has been taken on as an unofficial motto of sorts. That saying is "ignorantia juris neminem excusat." To those readers not versed in Latin, this roughly translates to "ignorance of the law excuses no one." This means that when a crime is committed, whether or not the perpetrator was aware a law was being broken, they must still face the consequences. It is by taking this stance that our justice system, especially in more modern times, protects the whole of our Wizarding community, and ensures that those who do wrong are punished both fairly and promptly.
I could make an argument over whether or not ignorance should be grounds to at least a less harsh sentence, but that is far beside the point. I am not ignorant of the many wrong-doings I have committed. Despite my full knowledge of this motto, I have lived my life and career as dishonestly and illegally as one could scarcely imagine, and I am writing this to let all those who've been loyal readers of my articles and books know the kind of person I am, and the nasty steps I have taken to make sure my works would be read.
I am not a young woman chasing after readers anymore. No longer will I write the sensationalistic-titled stories containing only the most insignificant inklings of truth, nor am I much interested in the mindless gossip I have, throughout my career, used to propagate my name. In fact, as a result of this editorial being published, it is likely I will spend the remainder of my days in Azkaban. Should it come to this, I will not fight it. If a trial is held, consider this a confession. It is only just, given the circumstances of my follies.
Though I've not published an article in ten long years now (my last of which was a dishonest piece accusing then-Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt of mass coercion of the Wizarding community in regards to the true dangers of reinstating employment of Dementors, a fiery, bitterly-fought debate which was only settled in full 2044), I have never once publicly admonished the writings of my younger, far more foolish self. I have multiple best-selling biographies, chock-full of twisted conclusions and downright lies. I cannot even begin to express the disgust I feel toward myself for allowing my lies to go on for so long, nor can I ever find a way to properly apologize for every misleading word my Quick-Quotes Quill and I concocted. Even if I were to live for 40 more years, I doubt an appropriate apology would ever be possible.
I cannot say with certainty when my propensity for falsehoods began. While a student in Hogwarts, I felt a thrill eavesdropping on conversations I had no right hearing, and yes, the thrill continued as I told others about what I had heard. Even then, though, I only recited what I heard, what I thought to be the truth. I never once in my years at Hogwarts intentionally mislead others when explaining a privet conversation I overhead. That scarcely makes me any better, but I apparently had some, be it limited, moral compass at the time that has faded with the years.
I can say, though, that I full-well knew the path I was likely to take once finishing up my Hogwarts education. I had been deeply enamored with the idea of journalism, but due to the nature of the Ministry at that point in time, I had a feeling my appeases to interview employees would fall on deaf ears. It came to me my fourth year, while listening on two males confess their love to each other, that my job would be much easier were I able to shrink myself and become an unnoticed blotch on a nearby wall. The answer was then clear to me: become an Animagus.
Simply put, for those not aware, an Animagus is a wizard or witch whom can transform themselves into an animal of some sort. It takes years of training to do, and if one is unsafe about it, very dangerous consequences can occur. According to Ministry law, every Animagus must register their name, animal they turn into, and notable markings with the Improper Use of Magic Office (this list, should anyone be interested, is fully available to the public), or risk imprisonment at Azkaban prison. I consciously chose not to register myself. It seemed to be a fair advantage to take for the sake of my planned profession, and while I studied History of Magic and Potions by day, I was training myself to keep the shape of a beetle by night.
By the end of my seventh and final year at Hogwarts, I was successful. I could fully transform into a beetle, and ever since, getting the scope on a hot story was only as difficult as ensuring the subject said just what you wanted them to say.
The very first target of my misattributed scorn, once I finished Hogwarts, was then relatively-recently deceased-Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Armando Dippet, with my book Armando Dippet: Master or Moron? A scathing, unfair critique of Dippet, whose term coincided with Tom Riddle's (Voldemort) attendance at the school, it was this book which first got me noticed, and also reinforced to myself my "method" of collecting information.
After the publication of my first book, The Daily Prophet promptly hired me, and it is with them I forged an alliance, guaranteeing gossip pieces that no others would be privy too. Though one might blame this publication for being both deceptive and willing to fabricate stories that fit their interests, let me dispel such rumors now. While writing for The Daily Prophet, never once did they insist on sensationalism over truth. While it may be accurately stated that they did not watch over those they employed for dishonesty, we should be careful to blame not the publication itself for the lies printed, but the writer of those mistruths. What I wrote for The Daily Prophet purely my own fabrications and no one else should be responsible for such.
I felt more mature when reporting on the trials of suspected Death Eaters following the downfall of Voldemort in 1981, though instead of reiterating the uncertainty of the processions, I focused more on scare tactics, such as relaying to my readers the dangers of public heroes like the late Ludovic Bagman, upon his suspicion of being a Death Eater (and of course, cleared of all charges by the Council of Magical Law). Though reporting on suspected Death Eaters did present benefits, the trials were over quickly, and I was again searching out the latest celebrity gossip in order to keep my name and brand relevant. I continued my focus on these petty stories, rapidly growing the base of my readers, for 15 years before I discovered my next big shot: The Boy Who Lived.
My relationship with Harry James Potter has been greatly exaggerated by the press. Of course, it was by my own doing that this exaggeration exists. I was given the opportunity to interview the Triwizard Tournament champions for the 1994-1995 Tournament, among them 14-year old Harry Potter. I treated the young boy unfairly in my initial interview, and ever since, his trust of me has been rightfully limited. The whole of the piece I wrote on the Tournament focused on Mr. Potter, and I barely mentioned the other champions (late Cedric Diggory, Qudditch Star Victor Krum, and Miss Fleur Delacour). Worse yet, my focus on Harry Potter was an all-out character assassination on the boy whom had been through enough Hell at that point in time, and only had more to endure as the years would pass.
I used him. I used his name and his fame in order to further my readership. Being banned shortly thereafter from entering Hogwarts grounds by late-Headmaster Albus Dumbledore did not stop me from pursuing what I saw as the story of the decade. Though I was unable to engage Harry Potter in any more interviews (until later in our lives), I found another angle – his friendship with now-retired Care of Magical Creatures professor, Rubeus Hagrid. A favorite of students attending Hogwarts for decades upon decades, I attacked him over both his teaching style and his apparent Half-Giant status. A student of his, and friend of Potter's, Hermione Granger confronted me after the publication of the articles in question. After a harsh, though fair rebuttal of my writings, I responded in the only way I knew how, and wrote untruthful articles on the young witch also.
To label me "petty" would not be doing me justice. There is no excuse whatsoever for a professional to ever attack a young child, accusing them of slights that even the smallest smidgen of common sense would indicate to be untrue. Granger is currently employed by the Ministry of Magic, after bravely and selflessly assisting Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley in defeating the dark wizard Voldemort. Even in her young age, she was a brave witch, and still I defamed her.
Afterwards, there was one year which I wrote nothing, though I regret to say it was not of my own accord, but benevolent blackmail. My Animagus form had been discovered, and I was barred from writing any lies for one year, or my identity and abilities would be released to the Ministry of Magic. In retrospect, one would hope that the severity of such a situation would serve as a wake-up call.
It did not. Not by a long shot.
My early articles unfairly portraying young Harry Potter as mentally unstable had taken hold as the Ministry of Magic refused to accept that Voldemort had returned during the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament, 1995. Though I was no longer writing for the Prophet, my work was expanded on, and the beginning of the smear campaign against both Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore (the only one willing to publicly support Mr. Potter's claims on Voldemort's return) had been initiated.
One of my few good deeds was done on 14 February, 1996, when I interviewed Harry Potter on the truth of the resurgence of Voldemort. Again, however, to ensure the record is kept straight, this was not out of the goodness of my heart, but a condition of my blackmail. Though I knew the Prophet would not pick up the story, The Quibbler (an alternative periodical, still printed to this day) would, and when it was printed, became the highest-selling issue The Quibbler had ever printed. The interview was a rarity for me – not one word was misattributed, misleading, or meant to confuse the readers. Every word printed was true, which has not occurred in one of my writings since, this editorial being the sole exception to the rule.
For another year, though no longer under direct blackmail, I chose to lie low, and wrote only the occasional, seemingly harmless gossip. I thought little of Harry Potter during that period, but that quickly changed with what appeared to many the mysterious death of Albus Dumbledore in 1997. I attended the funeral, then immediately afterwards, used a plethora of illegal and unethical methods to get the full scoop. If it has just been my use of Animagus abilities, that would have been bad enough, but no, I stooped to even lower levels.
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore was written largely by tricking well-renowned magical historian Bathilda Bagshot into drinking Veritaserum, a truth serum strictly controlled by the Ministry (another one of my many illegal actions). Bagshot was quite unable to fight off the effects of the serum, having lived a long, fruitful life, and thus, she revealed to me many stories about the late Dumbledore not known by the general public. I drained her of all she knew, stole any pictures that she had I thought would be beneficial, and left her in a confused state I can't help but to shiver when I imagine. She was found dead later that year, which left such a heavy feeling of guilt on me, I even considered giving up journalism. I shook the feeling off quickly, though, and persisted in my erroneous ways.
The biography of Dumbledore was another best-seller upon its release. I turned many against the benevolent hero that was the true Albus Dumbledore, and it is one of my biggest regrets that too this day, my book is used as the foundation of various Dumbledore conspiracy theories. I will admit, when presented with only half the facts, the beloved former Headmaster of Hogwarts seemed to be a questionable wizard, if not a bit Dark. However, I well knew that the information I had gathered from Bagshot was not the full story – it was an incomplete picture, but instead of searching for the full history, I haphazardly published the little I had, embellishing the limited information into nine-hundred pages of biased, unprofessionally-written gossip.
My next biography was the bastardization of Harry Potter, whom had shortly beforehand defeated the greatest threat the Wizarding community has ever known. Basing most of the book off my limited dealings with the young man, along with his acquaintances at school, I painted a very negative picture of the best of our kind since Albus Dumbledore. Around the same time, I was writing another biography, this one on the hero of the Second Wizarding War, late Severus Snape.
Despite the attempts of Harry Potter and his connections in the Ministry, I published the book and again, I had another best-seller on my hands, though I am happy to report sales were not nearly as high as previous sales had been. It spent only two weeks on top of the Daily Prophet's Bestseller list. Still, my uneducated portrayal of Severus Snape led to many branding him both a coward and a villain to this day. I cannot express how untrue this sentiment is. For further information, I would recommend the professionally-written biography simply titled Snape: The Story, anonymously released, but Harry Potter and his friends have defended the book on every possible occasion.
The 2000's passed quickly, having written two more falsified biographies (McGonagall: Malevolent Headmistress? and The Unabridged Truth of Minister Shacklebolt's Fascist Regime), though neither one sold in high numbers. I also wrote many articles for Witch Weekly, continuing my malicious, petty attacks on celebrities, including Harry Potter and others instrumental in the battle against evil. Toward the end of the decade, I again considered retiring from writing, feeling that at 60 years old, it'd be too trying a profession for me. That thought dissipated quickly when I learned from a source that Victor Krum was coming out of retirement, and would be participating in the 2014 Quidditch Cup.
I witnessed the Cup final between Bulgaria and Brazil, reporting live on the game. Or I was supposed to. Embarrassingly enough, though certainly not surprising, I focused far more on VIP Box 2, where Harry Potter and his family and friends were sitting. I reported not on Brazil's first goal of the match, but on silly ideas of marital problems between Luna Lovegood and Rolf Scamander. I was rightly hexed by Ginny Potter, former player for the Holyhead Harpies and current Quidditch correspondent for the Daily Prophet, following Bulgaria's shocking win. I have not seen either Harry Potter, his wife, or his friends since.
My seventh book, Dumbledore's Army: The Dark Side of Demob, came out shortly after. As per my usual writings, I claimed to follow the lives of those who were involved in the anti-corrupt Ministry organization Dumbledore's Army, though I focused far more on the negatives (Seamus Finnegan's harmless interest in gambling) than I did the positives (Cho Chang's position as newly-instated therapist at Hogwarts). As I was in the limelight more than I had been since the late 1990's, this book sold far better than both my previous books combined, though it still didn't achieve the high praise of my 20-year old works.
My bitterness at being cut off from the Potter family and his friends took hold of me, I fully admit. While I didn't focus my rage into a book, I wrote a series of articles focused on the Boy Who Lived, and all of his friends, filled of fury and vitriol, all of it founded on nothing but my anger and heresy. I steeped low once more, and attacked Ron and Hermione Weasley's daughter Rose for having multiple sexual relations with those outside of her Hogwarts House. I persisted down this disgusting and regrettable route on-and-off for three years. Nobody was reading by then (which made me angrier at the time, but now I look back at that fact in relief).
When 2020 came around, I was, for the most part, a washed-up mockery of my former self. I had no family, and at 69, the likelihood I'd ever have one was increasingly low. Then came what was known the be the "Wolverhampton Massacre," in which a group of five dark wizards (suspected members of the infamous Malfoy family, though this was never proven) went on a rampage, using both Hungarian Horntails and Chimeras, killing no less than 30 Muggles and 11 wizards and witches, three of whom were Ministry employees. As any has-been reporter would do, I quickly went to the scene of the atrocity, and took notes, publishing them a week later in the Daily Prophet.
My notes were significantly less biased than my previous works, but once I had my foot in the door, I milked my newly powerful position as Political correspondent to shape the Ministry of Magic as a tyrannical government, writing and focusing on countless non-issues, making it seem as though we all were under the power and authority of shapeless and nameless individuals, slowly stripping away our rights in order to fully take us over. It was, in all honesty, much the same language I had used in my "biography" of Minister Shacklebolt's early days of power. I kept this position for an amazingly lengthy period of ten years without being sacked. When I left, I did so of my own free will, and from there on out, only wrote articles on a sporadic basis.
I have lied to the Wizarding community over and over again, without any interest in the consequences the lies would produce, or any shame in lowering the depths of humility and public discourse. I have broken so many laws, I honestly wouldn't be surprised if capital punishment were reinstated just to deal with me alone. The fabrications, the lies, the mistruths, misquotes, the libelous, slanderous, shoddy writing I used to be proud of has all come from unethical journalistic standards, illegal serums and eavesdropping on private conversations as a beetle.
I received an owl a week ago from Eldritch Longbottom, the lone grandson (so far, at least) of beloved Herbology professor Neville Longbottom at Hogwarts. It was only one line, one question, but after reading it, I am not ashamed to admit I broke down in tears, and only a cup of tea hours later began to calm me down.
The question was, verbatim, "What's wrong with you?"
I can honestly say that I do not know what is wrong with me. I've lived a dishonest life, and only a few times in my long career have I ever felt anything I could call shame or guilt. I've felt nothing but for the last three years of my life, and Eldritch's simply question brought it all to heart. I have wasted my life chasing after readers, the juicy gossip, the outright slanderous words that make up my career.
I could easily kill myself – even if I am not strong enough to do it manually, I could turn myself into a beetle and fly to a public place, waiting to be swatted to death. I won't lie, nor have I once during the whole of this editorial, but I find that an appealing way for my life to end.
But I won't. I have listed here the crimes and injustices I have committed, and I will sit in my small apartment, located in Yorkshire, waiting for the appropriate responses from authorities. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement, along with the Improper Use of Magic Office, will have a field day with me, I am sure. At this point, I wouldn't have it any other way.
To Harry and Ginny Potter, Ron and Hermione Weasley, their respective families, Severus Snape, Armando Dippet, Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rubeus Hagrid, Minerva McGonagall, every member of Dumbledore's Army and the Ministry of Magic, along with every staff member of Hogwarts School and the Daily Prophet, and lastly every single person who trusted a single word I said or wrote, I send my sincerest regrets for the hardships I have brought up your life. I will accept the verdict in stride, because no matter how bad it could be, I know deep inside that I deserve far worse.
I'm sorry, Eldritch – I could have done better. So much better.
Written by Rita Skeeter, dated March 3rd, 2048