Sitting at a quiet corner table in an upscale London restaurant, I adjusted my posture to match the aristocratic air of the man I was impersonating—William James Moriarty. Dressed in a tailored suit and exuding refined charm, I was the picture of sophistication. The staff treated me with impeccable courtesy, ensuring no interruptions. It was all part of the plan.
My clone had taken over my classes back at Hogwarts, giving me the freedom to carry out this operation. Using Garuda, I'd flown to London before dawn, landing far enough from prying eyes to change my appearance into the striking figure of Moriarty.
Now I was waiting for my guest: Rita Skeeter. Contacting her had been surprisingly easy. A well-worded letter delivered by owl, combined with my charisma and an enigmatic pseudonym, had piqued her interest. She'd agreed to meet without hesitation.
The door chimed, and I saw her enter. Rita Skeeter was exactly as I remembered from the movies—decked in bright, garish colors, her hair styled in tight curls, and a quill sticking out of her oversized handbag. Her sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on me.
With a confident stride, she approached. "Mr. Moriarty, I presume?"
I stood, giving a courteous nod and offering a hand. "Ms. Skeeter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Please, have a seat."
After a quick muggle-repelling charm.
She sat across from me, her quill immediately springing to life on a piece of parchment as she waved her wand at it. "I must say, Mr. Moriarty, this is an unusual venue for a meeting of this nature."
I smiled, leaning back in my chair. "Indeed, but the wizarding world is a close-knit community. What we discuss today might reach unintended ears far too quickly if held in magical spaces. Here, among Muggles, discretion is assured."
Rita's ruby-red lips curled into a knowing smirk. "A valid point, Mr. Moriarty. But let's set aside the pleasantries, shall we? Your letter hinted at some rather... explosive information. I trust you'll elaborate?"
I folded my hands on the table, meeting her gaze. "Of course. I wouldn't have called you here for anything less than groundbreaking. What I'm about to share will not only expose one of the biggest frauds in the wizarding world but also cast a harsh light on the Ministry's competence—or lack thereof."
Her eyes gleamed with curiosity, and I could practically hear the gears in her mind turning. "Go on."
I opened my briefcase and slid a folder across the table. "Inside, you'll find documented evidence disproving the so-called heroic feats of one Gilderoy Lockhart. The accounts in his books are fabrications, stolen from the true heroes who performed these acts."
Rita's perfectly manicured nails tapped the table as she flipped through the folder. Photos, testimonies, official records—they were all there.
She whistled softly. "Well, well, well. This is quite the treasure trove, Mr. Moriarty. And the proof is ironclad. But why bring this to me? Surely there are other avenues for exposing such deception."
I leaned forward slightly, the light from the chandelier catching the glint of my red eyes. "Because you, Ms. Skeeter, are uniquely suited for this task. Your reputation as a journalist precedes you—unflinching, resourceful, and, dare I say, ruthless."
Her expression shifted to one of cautious admiration. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Moriarty. But I can't help but wonder... why target a harmless fantasy author? Surely there's more at play here."
I allowed a small smile to grace my lips. "You're stepping on thin ice there, Ms. Skeeter. I would advise against prying too deeply into my motivations. Suffice it to say, the truth must come to light, and I've chosen you to be its herald."
Rita held my gaze for a moment before leaning back in her chair, her smile returning. "Fair enough. You've made your point, and I must admit, I'm intrigued. With this story, I could topple Lockhart's career and expose the Ministry's incompetence in one fell swoop. It's... deliciously scandalous."
"Precisely," I said, steepling my fingers. "And with your skills, I have no doubt you'll turn this into a story the wizarding world won't forget anytime soon."
She closed the folder and slipped it into her bag. "You've given me quite the gift, Mr. Moriarty. But I suspect you're not doing this out of the kindness of your heart."
"Of course not," I said, my smile never wavering. "But our interests align for now, don't they? I get the satisfaction of seeing justice served, and you get a career-defining story."
Rita laughed, a sharp, tinkling sound. "Touché. Very well, Mr. Moriarty. You have my word that I'll handle this delicately—and effectively."
As she stood to leave, she reached into her bag and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table. "In case you come across any more... interesting gossip. I have a feeling this won't be our last meeting."
I took the card, noting the address written in her loopy handwriting. "A pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Skeeter."
"The pleasure was mine," she replied, her smile lingering before she turned and left the restaurant.
---
After our meeting, I stayed a while longer, sipping my tea and contemplating the next steps. The information was now in Rita's hands, and I had no doubt she'd spin it into a sensational exposé. Lockhart's days were numbered.
As I left the restaurant and stepped into the bustling streets of London, I allowed myself a small chuckle. Rita's interest in me was more than professional—it was written all over her face. The idea amused me, but I had no intention of letting it distract me from my goals.
With Garuda waiting in a secluded alley, I shed my Moriarty disguise and returned to my usual appearance. A quick flight later, I was back at Hogwarts, slipping into my dorm as if I'd never left.
As I lay in bed that night, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. Lockhart's fall from grace was inevitable, and I'd made sure it would be both public and humiliating.
"Sweet dreams, Lockhart," I muttered, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You're going to need them."
---Note
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