Chapter 27

The Christmas season had been an interesting one for Rita Skeeter. The basement apartment of the Granger home was a far cry from the luxury suite in which she'd lived for a few months after learning how to print Muggle money. Rather cold, especially at nights, and the occasional insect to keep her company, but the room was hers, with its own bathroom and a small kitchen. Once her workday was concluded, the Grangers treated her like a tenant, and it would never occur to either of them to enter her room uninvited. Indeed, rarely did they disturb Skeeter after dinner. Either because they were careful of Skeeter's feelings, or because it was their natural inclination, the Grangers could not treat Skeeter like a servant. They never used the imperative, instead always politely asking her to do this or that chore, as if she were doing them a favour. Her working hours were set out in a chart on the refrigerator, her employment consisting of exactly thirty-six hours a week and no more than that - never a suggestion that she should work overtime.

Skeeter responded to this kindness by working harder than she ever had in her life. It had been difficult, at first. The appliances took some time to master. Cooking without a wand was a sad trial for her, and ironing was sheer torture, for to spend what seemed like hours trying to get the wrinkles out when a wand would have done the job in seconds was very, very tedious. But the Grangers were very tolerant of the initial disaster in the kitchen when Skeeter has used dishwashing liquid instead of powder, causing a flood of suds, and of the clothes ruined by bleach and burn marks from the iron. They even made polite admiring noises as they ate the first few meals Skeeter cooked for them, for they both could see the tremendous effort Skeeter was putting into her job. Speedy improvement followed, and within a week Skeeter felt like her transformation into a Muggle was well underway. She was sitting with the Grangers one evening after she had finished cleaning up after dinner, feeding again their insatiable hunger to know more about the wizarding world in which their daughter lived.

"Now please help us with this," said Mrs. Granger. "What on earth is a 'death eater?' I heard Hermione use the phrase once, but when I asked her about it, she dodged the question."

Skeeter was puzzled as to how to answer honestly, yet without giving alarm. "They're basically a cult," she said, "and they're not very popular. Hermione can't have met any yet - no one at Hogwarts could be a member."

"Hermione tells us so little," said Mrs. Grainger. "It's quite vexing. She sends letters home, regular as clockwork, yet they're not very informative, and we never really know what's going on. Is it always like that with witches?"

"I think it may always be like that with teenagers," said Skeeter. "You're lucky she even writes. When I was at school, our head of house used threats of detention to force us all to write home now and again."

"I suppose I should be grateful," said Mr. Granger, "and I am very glad that at least she writes. But I wish she would be more careful to explain things. Her last letter before the holidays, for example. She said that once every few years, there was no Christmas holiday at Hogwarts because wizards use a different calendar. This was one of those years, so she wouldn't be able to join us for the holidays, because she was going to be going to classes at school. We'd a surprise vacation planned, but had to cancel it. No point in going without her, of course. She'd never mentioned that wizards have a different calendar."

Skeeter's expression did not change in the slightest. "That's really too bad about the holiday," she said. "But I'm sure she fill you in when she comes home for the summer."

"I doubt it," said Mrs. Granger. "But one can always hope."

Skeeter was very happy about her own letter that she'd received from Hermione, just after Christmas, in which Hermione released Skeeter from her promise to write nothing for publication. Although wandless, Skeeter could still get to the library at the Ministry, for the payphone entrance required only that one use a code (62442 - 'magic'). With access to a wonderful library (second only to Hogwarts), Skeeter in her spare time could resume her biography of Grindelwald. She'd need a wand to finish it, but it was nice to be able to work once more. Thus it was in a mood of cheerful optimism that Skeeter wrote the second of her reports to the Ministry, setting out the events of her first full week as a Muggle servant. Skeeter had learned that her first report had been published in the Daily Prophet, and knowing now that she could expect her next such effort to be displayed in print, she decided it should be rather more expansive than the first. She had written nothing for publication in months, and it was a welcome exercise for her. She was managing quite well without her dictation quill, too, and after a long evening's work at the computer the Grangers had set up in her room, her report was done. She regretted not being able to email or at least fax it, but the Ministry had no knowledge that such technology existed. She would take the report to the Ministry herself the next day.

The following morning Edwin Edgerton sat at his desk in the Ministry, going through the various letters and packages on his desk. He was what Muggles would call a parole officer, supervising the various witches and wizards who had either been released from prison or spared it all together - but on conditions, his job being to ensure those conditions were met. In many cases, such as Skeeter's, those conditions included enforced wandlessness.

Edgerton was very suspicious of Skeeter. Defended at her trial by Dumbledore no less, this brought to mind another wandless wizard with a connection to the headmaster: Rubius Hagrid. Edgerton had suspected for years that Hagrid had been secretly using a wand, but safe in the confines of Hogwarts, Hagrid was almost immune from investigation. The Ministry's writ did in fact run as far as Hogwarts, but only just so, and it would require no less than a Minister's warrant, a dozen brave aurors, weeks of planning and a tremendous amount of luck to conduct a raid at the school. And if the raid found nothing to incriminate Hagrid, Edgerton could kiss goodbye to his career. Thus the Hogwarts gamekeeper had been spared any risk of an investigation.

But Hagrid was no longer someone for Edgerton to think about. Exonerated after his unfortunate (and unlawful) confinement to Azkaban, Hagrid was now a Hogwarts professor and had been restored to all a wizard's privileges, including of course the right to possess a wand. Skeeter's situation was altogether different, for she was outside Hogwarts and thus unprotected by Dumbledore. Edgerton was determined that Skeeter would not step outside the narrow confines of the terms of her release. He was watching her very closely, hoping that she would give him an excuse of some kind to hurl her into Azkaban. If Skeeter failed to report as required, or was even a day late, Edgerton would seize on this to revoke her conditional release. And god help her if Edgerton learned she was in possession of a wand. Perhaps he already had evidence of Skeeter's illegal use of magic, thought Edgerton, as he reviewed the latest of the woman's reports. He read it eagerly, glad that it was lengthy, for the money he was getting on the side from the Daily Prophet depended on the length of the article. The first such publication the week before had proved tremendously popular, and many in the wizarding world were looking forward to the second.

For a few moments, avarice and malice were weighed in the balance. If Edgerton ignored what he believed was evidence of Skeeter's illegal use of magic, she would continue to send in her reports for at least a year and perhaps longer, resulting in a nice income for Edgerton. This would end instantly if Skeeter were jailed. But really it was no contest, and malice carried the day. Edgerton walked down the hall to Weasley's office.

It was Arthur Weasley's first day back at work. Not a full day, for he had not recovered from his injuries. He had come in more to let everyone know he was on the mend, and to see if anything of interest had happened in his department since the attack. He looked up at Edgerton's knock on his open door.

"Good morning, Edwin."

"Morning, Arthur, " replied Edwin, a smile of secret knowledge on his face. "You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble to save that Skeeter woman. I'm afraid it was all a waste - it's not much more than a week since she was let off, and already she's using magic."

"I don't believe it," said Weasley. "What proof do you have?"

"This," said Edgerton, tossing Skeeter's latest report onto Weasley's desk. Weasley picked it up, the puzzlement showing on his face as he began to read it.