Kindred Spirits

by Tailkinker

This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.

Poison Pen

A series of sharp cracks rent the silence around the Shrieking Shack, as four wizards appeared. Harry staggered away from Sirius, looking rather dazed, while Neville, standing next to Remus, seemed unfazed.

"I know this isn't your first time apparating, Harry," said Sirius. "You'd think by now you'd be used to it."

"I'd rather fly," said Harry shortly, shaking his head to try to stop the vertigo. "Floo, apparition, portkeys...they all hate me. And the Knight Bus hates everybody."

This drew chuckles from the other three wizards. Remus pulled out his pocket watch and flipped it open.

"You've got half an hour yet until you're to meet Hermione," he said. "Take your time getting back to Hogsmeade, and try not to let Umbridge spot you."

"I doubt she's patrolling the village," said Harry. "Too much like work."

"Thank you for helping," said Neville. He pulled out his new wand, and admired it. "Cherry wood and unicorn hair. It feels...more right, having my own wand. You know?" He looked up, troubled. "But at the same time, it feels like I'm somehow slighting my father."

"Frank Longbottom was a hell of an Auror," said Sirius firmly. "I fought beside him on several occasions. For such a little guy, he was incredibly fierce. You're more like Alice." Sirius grinned. "She was a sweetie. Always a kind word for everybody."

"And deadly when actually aroused to anger," added Remus. "Remember, she was also an Auror." He shook his head. "Terrible, what happened to them."

Harry was suddenly reminded of Barty Crouch, Jr. He was arrested during the war, after torturing two Aurors into insanity, Mad-Eye had said. And he remembered how Neville had reacted when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse. And Neville mentioning on a few occasions how he'd been raised by his grandmother.

"Your parents wouldn't want you to try to be them," he said quietly. "They'd want you to be you, Neville. And I'm pretty sure they'd be proud of you."

"Hotaru-chan!" Harry grinned as he entered the Hog's Head. "I was afraid I wouldn't get to see you at all today."

"I couldn't abide that," she said cheerfully as she stood and hugged him. "So I went with Luna and Hermione."

"This won't be terribly exciting," he warned her. "And it might even be a bit disturbing."

"With the things I've seen," she said, "I think I'll be all right."

Harry knew she was referring to her nightmares, and nodded. "All right." He turned to the other witches at the table. "Hermione. Luna. And...I don't believe we've met?"

"Harry, this is Rita Skeeter," said Hermione.

"Pleased to meet you." He offered a hand, and the older witch shook it. She looked rather disheveled, her blonde ringlets showing more than a bit of brown at the roots, and her attitude seemed to project an air of defeat.

"Until last year, Ms Skeeter was a gossip columnist," said Hermione. Her tone of voice made it clear what she thought of such a career. "She was employed by the Daily Prophet, and wrote many articles with, as she put it, 'intent to puncture over-inflated egos.'"

"And I was quite good at it, too," snapped Rita. "Unfortunately, I ran afoul of a charm at Hogwarts."

"Unregistered animagus," said Harry. "You were supposed to cover the Weighing of the Wands."

"I couldn't wait to get a chance to interview you, Harry," said Rita. "The tragic orphan, lashing out at the world that betrayed him by entering himself into the International Challenge—"

"Except that I didn't enter it," said Harry bitterly. "I was forced into it by a Death Eater, so they could resurrect Voldemort."

"Is this the scoop you promised me?" Rita asked irritably. "Year-old stories about how poor Harry Potter was forced to win the Challenge?"

"Hardly," said Hermione. "How would you like an exposé on the life and lies of Tom Riddle, also called Voldemort?"

"Wait. You-Know-Who is—" She paused. "You called him Tom Riddle? I'm not familiar with the Riddle family."

"That's because they're Muggles," said Harry.

Rita's mouth fell agape, not a word escaping her. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated, as the import of what he'd said sunk in.

"Do..." She swallowed. "Do you mean to tell me that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a Muggleborn?!"

"Half-blood," corrected Harry. "But unlike me or Dumbledore, his father wasn't a wizard at all, but a common Muggle."

Rita stared at him some more, and then cackled. "Oh, this is too rich! All those Pure-blood extremists following a Half-blood! Oh, an exposé like this could rehabilitate me as a writer quite easily." She paused. "Of course, there's a few practical considerations. First of all, there's the fact that I don't exactly work for the Daily Prophet any longer. Ever since my stint in Azkaban," she muttered acidly. "So even if I write this piece, where would it be published?"

"That's where Ms Lovegood comes in," said Hermione, indicating the witch sitting beside her. Luna, for her part, continued to stir her drink and stare off into the distance, humming some tune that Harry didn't recognize. "While she and I may disagree on the content of some of her father's articles, I cannot help but respect her family's passion for reporting."

"Lovegood. You mean the Quibbler." Rita snorted. "Like anybody would believe anything in that rag."

"Actually, it has quite a good circulation," said Harry. "I subscribe to it myself."

"You do?" asked both Rita and Hermione simultaneously. Hotaru giggled.

"I do," said Harry. "I especially like the crosswords." He glanced over at Luna. "Though I can tell you that Sirius Black was never the lead singer for the Hobgoblins. I've heard him try to sing. Sounded like a dog howling."

"Perhaps he's simply trying to throw people off his track," suggested Luna.

"Perhaps. But either way, it was nice of your father to support his innocence." Harry turned back to Rita. "So if Mr Lovegood is willing to run your article, that's that problem out of the way, yeah?"

"There's also the minor issue of the Death Eaters," said Rita. "What am I supposed to do if I write this article, and some former Death Eater—I mean 'Imperious Victim', of course—takes offence?"

"That's actually a valid concern," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione. "I assume you've thought of a solution?"

"Er...no." Hermione looked abashed. "I didn't actually consider that possibility."

"I can think of two solutions," said Hotaru.

Rita eyed the smaller girl. "And just who are you, missy?"

"Hotaru Tomoe." She bowed. "Ravenclaw, fifth year. Pleased to meet you."

Rita glanced from Hotaru to Harry, then back to Hotaru. "You and Harry here are an item, aren't you?"

"Yes, and we couldn't be happier," said Harry. "But that won't be a part of your article, will it?"

"Oh, come now!" Rita grinned, showing off all of her teeth. "The public wants to know all about the witch who captured the heart of the Boy Who Lived."

"No," said Harry firmly. "Not unless Hotaru agrees."

Hotaru mutely shook her head.

"Oh, bother," sighed Rita. "Very well then, Ms Tomoe. What are your suggestions?"

"Your first option is to approach Headmaster Dumbledore," said Hotaru. "He can offer you protection. Of course, it's likely that he may ask for some assistance in exchange for that protection."

"That's worth considering," allowed Rita. "After all, Dumbledore is the only wizard that You-Know-Who feared."

"Tom," supplied Harry.

"Eh?" Rita looked confused.

"Don't call him 'You-Know-Who', or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," said Harry. "Don't empower him like that. Don't even call him Voldemort. It's a silly made-up French name that just advertises that he's afraid of death." He smirked. "His real name is Tom Riddle. Kind of hard to be afraid of that name, isn't it?"

"True," allowed Rita. She turned back to Hotaru. "So what's your other suggestion?"

"Leave the continent," said Hotaru. "Move to another Commonwealth country, such as Canada or Australia. Or even to the United States. Somewhere that English is spoken, but where Voldemort hasn't gained a foothold."

"MaCUSA has a few advantages," offered Luna, finally looking up from her drink. "For one thing, they don't have laws against being an animagus, or any sort of registry for such. Several of their wizarding communities practice animagus transformation practically from birth."

"Also a valid suggestion," mused Rita. "Though not one I favour. I suppose if the price that Dumbledore asks for protection is too high, I can consider that option." She smirked. "And speaking of cost. How much am I getting paid for this?"

"Our standard rate is five knuts per word, plus a twenty percent profit share, split among all writers," said Luna.

"Profit share?" Rita's eyes gleamed. "I mean, five knuts per word isn't too bad, but the Daily Prophet never offered shares."

"So do we have a deal?" asked Hermione.

Rita considered. "Pending my discussion with Dumbledore...I feel safe in saying, we have a deal."

She extended her hand, and Hermione shook it. Rita then turned towards Harry, pulling out parchment and quill.

"All right, Harry. Tell me all you know about Tom Riddle."