https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-385-Rita-Skeeter-s-Exile-Journey-2/13685386/
Chapter 384: Rita Skeeter's Exile Journey
Rita Skeeter had regretted her choices countless times since falling into this predicament. Yet deep down, she understood—when she stood at that fateful crossroads, choosing this path had been inevitable.
There was no escaping it: curiosity didn’t just kill cats. It could kill a journalist obsessed with scandal too.
At the very beginning, it had started with Wade Gray’s request—to follow a suspicious group of Werewolves. On that ship, Rita had accidentally overheard Ministry of Magic officials using the slow, clumsy Muggle transportation method. Without hesitation, she’d eavesdropped, eager for a sensational scoop.
And the scoop was exactly what she’d hoped for.
A Ministry official named Umbridge—dressed and behaving in such a bizarre manner that even Rita, seasoned as she was, was stunned—had spoken freely at the feast. Her views on Muggles, Muggle-borns, and Mudbloods were chilling. She ranted about purging “impure non-human creatures”:
> “I consider Muggles unworthy of existence. Of course, they’re already here. Occasionally useful—some jobs must be done by someone inside the system.”
>
> “So we can afford to be somewhat lenient—allow the bloodstained to live.”
>
> “If Wizards were to rule Muggles, we should eliminate those who resist, and keep only the docile ones—like livestock.”
>
> “They shouldn’t receive education. They shouldn’t possess mastery over wands. A Muggle should just learn a trade.”
>
> “And those born from Muggles—Mudbloods—must not be allowed to wield wands. That would be far too dangerous for Wizards.”
>
> “I’d like to push for new Ministry policies—tighter control over non-human creatures.”
>
> “Expand the Werewolf capture squads. Reopen the vampire eradication campaigns. These are essential.”
>
> “Giants, Veelas, Goblins, Centaurs—any being that isn’t human must prove its worth.”
>
> “Of course… I think giants should simply be wiped out. Their very existence serves only to remind us that even the Creator isn’t perfect.”
The people sitting beside her were lower-ranking Ministry officials—men and women who, in private, also supported Pureblood supremacy and longed for greater Wizard dominance. So Umbridge spoke without restraint.
She genuinely believed she was right. She saw her views as noble, righteous—even if few understood her. She felt isolated not because she was wrong, but because the world was too dull for her brilliance.
And this conviction was what made her terrifying. Even those who found her monstrous believed she was sincere. The fact that she could cast a Patronus Charm only reinforced her self-assurance.
She didn’t notice how even these so-called “allies” flinched at her cold, ruthless proposals.
Nor did she see the tiny beetle perched on the Roman rod above the curtain, its antennae twitching as it recorded every word.
Rita Skeeter had written it all down. She had so many such scandals—waiting like a time bomb for the moment Umbridge fell from grace.
That was the key to being a successful gossip journalist: constant, meticulous accumulation.
For the rest of the journey, Rita forgot Wade’s mission entirely. She became obsessed with gathering dirt on Umbridge—each new detail revealing her as a goldmine of scandal.
But Umbridge’s position as Deputy Minister gave Rita pause. She couldn’t act yet. So she stored the evidence, like all her other intel, waiting.
Then, upon returning to Britain, Rita discovered Umbridge wasn’t nearly as powerful as she’d seemed.
Minister Fudge had deliberately undermined her—snatching away her most important duties and assigning her to inspect the quality of imported Cauldrons. A job fit for an intern.
Rita confirmed: Umbridge had been cast aside from the center of power.
She immediately began preparing to expose her. But since Umbridge hadn’t officially been dismissed, Rita first tried a softer approach—a scandalous love affair.
Unfortunately, her usual exaggerations—though still truthful—had met a wall of steel.
Umbridge was a perfect pet in front of the Minister of Magic—whining, begging, groveling. But behind the scenes, she still held real influence. She controlled dozens of lower-level Ministry employees.
Rita’s retaliation came swiftly. She was forced to flee Britain in a panic.
Luckily, her Animagus form had never been exposed, and she still had Wade’s borrowed Invisibility Cloak. Her exile wasn’t a disaster—just a painful escape.
Using a public post office Owl, Rita sent a blank letter overseas. Then, she transformed into a beetle and clung to the bird’s back. The Owl flew—carrying her beyond the shores of the British Isles.
She’d planned to land in Denmark—open, tolerant, welcoming.
But halfway across the sea, an unexpected disaster struck.
The Owl was struck by a Muggle ship.
Rita plummeted with it. The bird crashed onto the deck and died instantly. But just before impact, the beetle flapped its wings and landed safely in a tangle of rope.
At first, Rita thought it was just bad luck.
Maybe they have some strange taste, she mused, even if I’ve never heard of Muggles eating Owls. They’re so crude and savage.
She began planning her next move.
She could Apparate—but her skill wasn’t strong enough to cross the open sea. She wasn’t willing to risk splitting her body.
Then she heard the voices.
> “How can there be an Owl in the middle of the ocean?”
>
> “Owls are wizards’ messengers. Most wizards still use them—poor fools, they’re completely out of date.”
Rita froze.
They know about magic?
Did they… deliberately shoot it down?
Then she heard heavy footsteps approaching. She squeezed herself deeper into the rope cracks, peering out.
A dark-skinned man bent down, picked up the dead Owl, and removed the letter.
> “What’s written on it?” asked the younger fisherman.
>
> “Strange…” muttered the older man. “It’s blank paper.”
He turned it over, rubbed it with his rough fingers, suspicious of hidden mechanisms.
Then he folded it carefully.
> “Maybe it’s written in Invisibility Ink. Take it back. Let them examine it. And check the address too—see who lives there.”
>
> “Could there be wizards living there?”
>
> “Maybe,” chuckled the older man. “If we catch even one, we’ll earn a hero’s reward!”
> “Lev, have you ever seen a wizard? Can they really vanish?”
>
> “No, but I’ve heard they can make themselves invisible. And their houses too. Want to become a wizard?”
>
> “Who wouldn’t?” the young man grinned. “If I could vanish, I’d steal from a bank vault—then I’d never need money again.”
>
> “Don’t envy them,” the older man laughed. “One day, maybe we’ll have magic too.”
Their coarse, booming laughter echoed in the air—chilling Rita to the bone.
Perhaps it was the Ministry’s decades-long vigilance, the deep-rooted secrecy of the Confidentiality Act. Even someone as selfish as Rita had instinctively believed—this must never be broken.
But now, hearing these Muggles casually joke about magic, discussing how to capture and dissect wizards like lab specimens—her blood ran cold.
The beetle trembled. Its antennae buzzed with a primal warning: Leave. Now.
But… she didn’t know how far from land she was. She couldn’t risk Apparition. And with her life in her hands, her instinct to survive overrode fear.
—I’ll leave when the ship docks, she told herself.
—Just slip into a patch of grass or a forest. A beetle is small—easy to hide. No one will find me.
And transformation into a beetle wasn’t so bad. As long as she resisted the urge for normal food, a few crumbs or a leaf would sustain her. Water? A few dewdrops on a windowpane were more than enough.
She stayed like that for days, crawling through the ship’s shadows, listening, learning.
She pieced together who they were: a Muggle group called “The Organization.” All of them knew of magic. They believed wizards were ancient demons—spreading plague, sowing chaos, starting wars, oppressing Muggles.
They hated magic. But they coveted it.
Rita heard them talk passionately about capturing a wizard and sending them to a lab—“to slice them open,” to extract their magic and transplant it into their own bodies.
They didn’t know how—they thought magic resided in a specific organ, like a gland. But they were certain it could be done.
“It’s just a matter of sample size,” they insisted. “We just need more specimens. Soon, we’ll have it.”
Just imagining their future life with magic—wealth, power, invisibility—fueled their excitement. The endless voyage no longer felt boring.
Only one beetle, trembling in a wall crack, listened in horror.
Compared to these people, Voldemort seemed almost kind.
After days at sea, the ship docked.
Rita shot out of the hull like a bullet, diving into a leafy thicket. She glanced back at the ship and the men waiting on the dock—committing the location to memory.
Then she zipped through the grass, wings humming with freedom.
—I’m safe. I’m free.
After flying far enough, she transformed back into a woman. She took a deep breath, then began scanning the area.
—I need to find someone. Figure out where I am. Then decide—Apparition or Muggle transport?
> “I’m going to eat everything,” she muttered, stomach growling. “A bottle of red wine, foie gras, French escargot, dragon shrimp, oysters, steak… and a big pot of stew.”
>
> “And I need a proper barber,” she added, frowning at her slightly uneven golden curls. “Good salons are hard to find.”
She pushed aside thoughts of danger. I’m just a journalist, she told herself. Let Wade Gray handle the rest. He’s the one who wants to dig into the Werewolf conspiracy anyway.
And these people are Muggles. Who says wizards and Muggles can’t be in league? My report says so—so it must be true.
Wade Gray and Dumbledore—both meddlesome fools. Even if they find out I lied… they can’t do anything to me.
She walked along the path, searching for signs of human life.
But the place was eerily deserted. No people. Not even insects.
From high above, the island wasn’t a continent. Not a country. Just a large, sparsely populated island.
At its center stood a massive complex of buildings. But the beetle hadn’t flown high enough—or far enough—to see the full picture.
She was still deep in the jungle.
High above, on a palm tree, a hidden camera rotated slowly, its lens locked onto Rita Skeeter.
Moments later, a sharp alarm pierced the air. A man roared:
> “What in Merlin’s name is that? Who let this idiotic woman in here?!”
—Bzzzzzzzzzzz—
A second later, the entire island trembled with a deafening hum.
From the center, invisible electromagnetic fields surged outward—generated by Resistance Coils buried beneath the island’s surface.
Birds took flight in panic. Animals fled through the forest, some crashing into trees. Even insects in the grass scrambled wildly.
Fish in the nearby waters scattered into the deep.
Beneath the rocky cliffs, pipes injected boiling hot water into the sea. No familiar marine life remained.
Rita, unaware, stumbled forward through the jungle—when suddenly, agony ripped through her.
It felt like needles piercing every inch of her skin. Like ants devouring her from within.
She screamed—raw, desperate, soul-shattering.
> “Aaaaaaaahhhhh—!”
The pain lasted only a minute. But to Rita, it felt like a year.
When she regained consciousness, she staggered to her feet, pain screaming through her body. She didn’t care. She had to Apparate.
—Split body? Fine. If Umbridge’s men catch me, it’s still better than this.
Azkaban? That’s nothing compared to this.
She spun—twice.
Thud.
She collapsed.
Her magic, usually so obedient, betrayed her. It refused to work.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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