"Don't get so excited."
Seeing Rita Skeeter growing increasingly agitated, Kyle waved a hand dismissively and smiled. "I was just joking earlier. Why are you taking it so seriously?"
Although Rita looked like she was trying to intimidate him, Kyle didn't want to push her too far. Truthfully, he hadn't expected her reaction to be so intense. She had even claimed she'd rather expose her Animagus secret than cooperate with him.
At the same time, it was clear she couldn't—or wouldn't—accept the news of Voldemort's resurrection. More accurately, she refused to believe it without concrete evidence.
If only I had taken a photo, Kyle thought to himself. He could still picture Voldemort's triumphant smile during the resurrection. He might have even been nominated for Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.
Of course, that would have required time he hadn't had.
"You'd better really be joking," Rita Skeeter said, her expression softening slightly but still tinged with caution.
"Don't worry," Kyle replied. "I actually called you here for something else."
Rita, who had been poised to leave, reluctantly sank back into her seat. Though she wanted nothing more than to walk away, she felt compelled to stay. He had leverage over her, and she knew it.
Besides, the Kyle sitting before her was unlike most people she had dealt with. On the surface, he seemed harmless, even friendly, but he was far more difficult to navigate than anyone she had encountered before.
Take the Triwizard Tournament, for instance. Rita still remembered Kyle's efforts to downplay himself before the competition. He had insisted he was likely to lose and needed to prepare an excuse, only to emerge as the undisputed champion.
She had watched every match. Kyle's performance had been so dominant, it was as though the other competitors were there merely to fill out the roster.
Now that she thought about it, Rita felt foolish for ever believing his self-deprecating act. She had even drafted a scathing article condemning his supposed cowardice, ready to publish it the moment he lost. But after Kyle uncovered her Animagus secret, she had torn the article to shreds and thrown it away.
"What do you want?" she asked, her tone sharp with impatience.
"It's about Fudge," Kyle said, lowering his voice as he glanced around. "I really admire Minister Fudge, so I'd like to know more about him... things that aren't public knowledge."
"You've got the wrong person," Rita said, adjusting her unsightly glasses. "Fudge is the Minister of Magic, and if you're asking for something nobody knows, how could I possibly know it? If you really admire him, go read his autobiography."
"Flourish and Blotts sells it—15 Galleons a copy."
"Fifteen Galleons?" Kyle said, feigning incredulity. "I'm just a student. I can't afford something that expensive."
"Didn't you just say you don't lack money?"
"I don't," Kyle replied casually. "But that doesn't mean I can justify spending 15 Galleons on a book."
Without another word, Kyle reached into his bag and snapped a photo of Rita in mid-Animagus transformation.
Snap!
In an instant, Rita slammed her handbag over the photo.
"Damn it! You just pulled it out like that? What if someone sees it!"
"No one will," Kyle said calmly. "I checked—there's no one around. No bugs, either."
He leaned back in his chair and added, "Think of the photo as payment. Take your time to consider it."
Rita's breathing grew heavier as she processed the situation, her face pale with anger and apprehension. Kyle didn't press her, instead rising to fetch another Butterbeer from the bar.
Old Tom was footing the bill anyway—he might as well take advantage.
Rita Skeeter gulped down half the glass of Butterbeer before saying, "I'll need another 100 Galleons, and you have to promise not to tell anyone about this."
"No problem. I promise on Dumbledore's name."
"Why Dumbledore?"
"How about I promise on my name? Would you believe me then?"
Rita instinctively thought of Kyle's vow during the Triwizard Tournament that he would definitely lose. She narrowed her eyes but said nothing further, her suspicion lingering.
After glancing cautiously around the pub, she gestured subtly. Kyle immediately caught on and pulled out his wand, whispering,
"Muffliato."
"Okay, now no one around us will hear our conversation," he assured her.
Rita, still wary, retrieved a small Sneakoscope from her bag. She examined it closely, waiting for any reaction. When it remained silent, she leaned forward and whispered,
"Do you remember the sensational Magical Creatures smuggling case from a few years ago?"
Kyle nodded. He vividly recalled being drawn into the operation to capture Oren in the Forbidden Forest.
"According to an insider, Fudge was involved," Rita revealed. "The reason the Hit Wizards were so desperate to catch the fugitive was because he had evidence—a notebook enchanted to record everything."
Kyle raised an eyebrow.
The mention of the notebook jogged his memory. Oren had indeed mentioned it during their encounter in the Forbidden Forest. Now it made sense why the pursuit had involved only Hit Wizards, with no Aurors present. Unlike Hit Wizards, Aurors were less beholden to the Minister of Magic. If they had seen the notebook's contents, covering up the truth would have been far more difficult for Fudge.
After a brief pause, Kyle placed ten Galleons on the table.
"Wait, this isn't what we agreed on," Rita protested. "Why are there only ten Galleons?"
"Do you hear yourself?" Kyle said, his tone skeptical. "A Minister of Magic, involved in smuggling Magical Creatures? Such an outrageous claim! Ten Galleons is more than enough for something so dubious. I'm starting to think you're trying to con me."
"I can assure you, I'm not," Rita replied, her expression earnest. "And for the record, he wasn't even Minister when he was involved."
Rita bristled at the implication, her pride as a professional gossipmonger wounded. She prided herself on accuracy—even when her stories leaned into sensationalism. She had heard the story firsthand years ago, while using her Animagus form to infiltrate a Ministry gala. She had eavesdropped on Fudge confiding the details to a colleague.
"I'll give you 500 Galleons if you can produce the notebook," Kyle countered. "But without it, who's to say you're telling the truth?"
"If I did have the notebook, it'd be worth a lot more than 500 Galleons," Rita muttered, but she refrained from further argument.
Instead, she carefully stored the incriminating photo in the false compartment of her handbag, ensuring it was secure before pocketing the Galleons from the table.
"I'll throw in another piece of information for free," she said, smacking her lips as if relishing the act of disclosure. She seemed to view Kyle as an alternative medium for her talent, one that didn't involve her quill.
"There's a senior deputy minister at the Ministry named Dolores Umbridge. Not only does she pretend to be a pureblood, but she's also taken credit for the work of her colleagues—repeatedly."
Kyle blinked, then shrugged nonchalantly. "What does it matter to me what she does?"
Umbridge wasn't significant. If Fudge fell, she would simply be collateral damage.
"Don't dismiss her so quickly," Rita said with a sly grin. "The higher-ups at the Ministry know all about it, but not only do they say nothing—they even help cover it up."
"I know someone who was fired because of her. He's working on a farm in Cornwall now, of all places."
Rita's gaze held a triumphant glint as she looked at Kyle, clearly expecting a reaction.
Kyle sighed, then pulled out fifty more Galleons and set them on the table.