Ship: Harry/Hermione
Name/Pen Name: Qualyn/Hobbes
Word Count: 1,373
Theme #/Theme: 6/The ever reliable Daily Prophey
Challenge count: 3/7 finished
Content: PG-13 for some intense thematic scenes
Spoilers: Books 1-6
Warnings: ReallyAngry!Harry
Summary: Harry Potter had come to make a complaint.
The receptionist inside the Daily Prophet headquarters felt rather than saw the next person entering through the doors. Ripples of magical energy spun the revolving door slowly and rustled the papers on her desk. She had felt this sort of power several years ago. Surely it wasn’t the same person.
The revolving doors now rotated in dizzying circles. Other workers in the lobby area looked up from their paperwork curiously. The doors had always had a penchant to spin by themselves, but this was something new. Only the receptionist understood.
The approaching person finally came into view. There were a few gasps and exclamations of “Dear Merlin!” behind the reception desk. He entered through the regular door next to the now impassable revolving ones. His flushed face, wild black hair, and dark green eyes made even the receptionist quail as he walked toward her. In one hand, he held today’s paper in a deathly hold.
Harry Potter had come to make a complaint.
“Could I please speak to,” he paused to look at the paper in his hand, “Tira Ketser?”
“She’s not in today. Why don’t you let me take down a message and--”
“She told you to say that, didn’t she?” His quiet, but dark tone commanded her to stop talking. “I know she’s in her office, probably hiding from me. Tell her that there’s a lovely jam jar with her name on it if I don’t get the chance to speak to her.”
She could do nothing else but comply. When she was done giving his message, she said quietly, “She suddenly found some free time and is available.
Harry snorted. “Good. Where is she?”
“Go to the fifth floor and it’s the second room on your left.”
“Thank you.” He began to walk away, but turned and asked, “What’s your name?”
“Pam, sir.”
“I’m no sir, Pam. Just Harry. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you. Thank you again.” He continued to walk away.
Pam let out a shaky sigh. Let it never be said that he wasn’t a gentleman in anger.
* * *
Harry stormed into the reporter’s office ten minutes later. She sat with her back to him.
“Glad to see you after all these years, Harry. Why don’t you sit and we’ll catch up?”
“Don’t play nice with me. You know exactly why I’m here.”
She swiveled her chair to face him. Her long face was split by a very large, white-toothed grin. “Not even a kind word to me? I thought you had more tact than that,” she reprimanded.
“And I thought you had more tact than this rubbish!” He threw the newspaper on her desk. “How dare you publish this about my family! I should drag you in front of the Ministry right now!” he boomed.
She slid the newspaper to her with a long purple fingernail. “I fail to see how I’ve caused you any problems. I only reported the truth. These are all things you’ve said to other reporters at some time; I only put the steps together.”
Harry’s face grew darker. “Steps?” he spluttered. “What steps? I only see lies written to make a quick buck.”
“Well--”
“Don’t interrupt me, Rita!” He grabbed the paper from under her nail and read, “‘We’re talking of moving out of the country. Somewhere where I could feel more comfortable,’ Potter was heard to say. This would mean moving his moving his eleven year-old daughter Hope from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, his nine year-old son James from his friends, and his wife of fourteen years Hermione from her one month old job of Chief Healer at St. Mungos. ‘They’d adjust,’ he said with a shrug of his shoulders.’” He could barely hold his anger in check. “Do you know what you’ve done? You caused panic my family! Both the Ministry and St. Mungos have been doing damage control since six this morning! I and Hermione have had to talk to almost every major official to convince them we’re staying. Both my kids have begged me not to move! They think I don’t want to listen to their opinions at all since I didn’t tell them a thing about moving! There are tear marks on the letter Hope sent me! Do you--” He took deep breaths to regain his composure. “Stay away from my family.”
“But you’re such a fascinating subject.” She stretched her hands across an imaginary newspaper. “The Life of Harry Potter After You-Know-Who! It’s brilliant journalism, Harry, and if I only had your permission then it would be even better.” Rita looked at him expectantly.
He grabbed the newspaper on both ends, ripped it in half, and flung the pieces on her desk. “Sod off.”
She pouted and asked in a high-pitched voice, “You won’t consider it?”
“No. If you even think about writing another article like that, consider your career over. A promise from me to you.”
“So what of your father and godfather’s Animagus skills? I’m sure the Ministry would love to hear about that,” she smirked.
“Blackmail?” Harry curled his hands into fists. “The good thing about that is that they’ve been honored as fallen heroes. If you even tried to blacken their names, be sure that it won’t just be me who tries to bring you down. Besides, you have your own little buggy problem. I’m quite sure you know there’s jail time involved for unregistered Animagi.” He let his words sink in. “Keep your stories to yourself, Rita, or else they’ll come back to bite you.” He turned on his heel and left the office.
Rita stared at the pieces of newspaper still on her desk. A grin slowly worked across her face. “I still have the journalistic touch,” she chuckled.
* * *
The Auror division of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement knew that it was a bad time to disturb their director. He had come back from his “meeting” in a foul mood and looked ready to explode at any given time. All of them watched as he stomped and cringed when he slammed the door.
“Poor door,” Auror Richards tutted.
Inside the office, Harry collapsed into his chair. He had been so close to throwing that woman out of her chair. His hands were still twitching. Merlin, what he wouldn’t give for a vacation right now. There was a soft cracking noise near the door. Out of the two people that could Apparate into his office, he knew who it was. Hermione walked behind his desk and sat on the edge of it.
“You talked to her?” It was more of a statement than a question.
He nodded. “You should be proud of me. I didn’t lose all of my self-control.”
“You did better than I would have. They way she made you look like a self-absorbed prat that didn’t care about your family. And then she talked about Hope and James like they were luggage to be carried along--” She couldn’t go on. To speak of her children that way…. It made her see red.
Harry rubbed her arm. “She won’t. Not while we’re around, I assure you.”
“She better not.” She massaged her temples. “Not if she wants to working use of her writing hand, she won’t.”
He noticed her white cloak. “You came from work?”
“Yeah, but I wanted to know how it went right when you came back. I should be getting along though; I have to speak with the interns in fifteen minutes.” She stood to leave and kissed him on the cheek. “Talk at lunch?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled and then was gone. He was definitely glad he had made adjustments to the wards surrounding his office. If Hermione hadn’t come to talk to him, he would have felt sorry for the Aurors outside for the rest of the day. She always knew how to take the edge off of things. He and Hermione were going to have a long talk with the Editor-In-Chief at some point this week. A very long talk.
Thinking of the conference to come, a slogan for the Prophet popped into his mind, causing him to snort.
“‘The ever reliable Daily Prophet’ my arse.”
Rita never learns. If there's contreversy and mahem to be had, then she'll be there. Thanks, Mady!