Daddy Dearest - (No Update, Edit)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 88 ~ Rita Skeeter's Day

The Prophet had reporters on assignment covering the trial, so Rita didn't attend. She had direct access to Hermione, which no one else had, so wasn't worried about missing the story. She reported to the Prophet office to work on her normal column. When she returned to her office, she found piles of posts from readers reacting to her article. Rita had a lot of experience with letters from readers. She never just opened them. She had written too much dirt to take any chances they were from irate and vengeful victims of her pen.

The reporter sat down at her desk, adjusted her glasses and began to sort through the parchments, her wand drawn. There were a number of howlers in bright red envelopes. These she didn't handle since they were invoked by touch. She simply blasted each one to ash. After she removed the howlers, she began checking each letter with a detector spell designed to reveal if the contents of a letter were dangerous. There were quite a few that were spelled, probably to do something terrible to the witch. She destroyed these also.

She gave the remaining letters the once over with the detector spell and was just about to start reading when there was a knock on her door.

"Who is it?" she called, aiming her wand at the door, her eyes narrowed.

"Mrs. Viola Sludge. I'd like to have a word with you, Miss Skeeter," a deep female voice answered.

"Are you alone?" Rita asked suspiciously.

"Why yes I am," Mrs. Sludge replied. She was a heavy-set, rather jowly woman in a floral print robe and matching pointed witch's hat. She had a blue fabric handbag over her arm.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Rita called, still aiming her wand at the door. It was securely warded, but who knew what was on the other side really?

"Your article in the Prophet," the witch replied genteelly.

Rita was curious.

"I'm going to remove the ward from my door," the witch said, "I want you to reach your wand in and drop it on the floor," Rita said, "Don't come in any further or you will get one hell of a blast."

Mrs. Sludge was silent for a moment.

"I see. Very well then, I will give you my wand," the witch said, scowling a bit at this indignity. But she was instructed to talk to the witch.

"All right, then," Rita said, removing the wards and training her wand on the door, ready to hex. A rather thick, manicured hand reached around the doorframe and dropped a wand on the floor.

"Accio wand!" Rita said quickly, and the wand flew to her. She quickly deposited the wand in her top drawer, then placed a shielding spell around herself, just in case.

"Come in, Mrs. Sludge. Slowly if you please," Rita said.

The door slowly opened and Mrs. Sludge entered. She clasped her hands together and looked at Rita, who was visibly at the ready.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Sludge," Rita said evenly, taking in the witch as she moved to the folding chair in front of Rita's desk. The witch sat down. She didn't look very dangerous, but Rita wasn't taking any chances.

"Now how can I help you?" Rita said, setting her wand down on her desk within hand's reach.

"Well, Miss Skeeter. Firstly I would like to say that was quite an article you wrote in the Prophet," Mrs. Sludge said.

"Thank you," Rita replied, not at all mollified.

"But you seem to have some mistaken ideas about the DKV. We are a benevolent organization and have worked very hard to be taken seriously, Miss Skeeter. Your article has incited riff-raff against us, and we would like to ask you not to please write any more articles about us or this terrible trial," the witch said politely. "We wish to retain our organization's integrity."

Rita's face turned black.

"You are a hate group. How much integrity can you possibly have?" Rita asked the witch incredulously.

"We are not a hate group, Miss Skeeter. We simply promote love, respect and advancement for purebloods. Now that isn't hate is it?" Mrs. Sludge asked the witch.

"It is if you want those things at the expense of others who are not purebloods," Rita replied. "Respect is for everyone, Mrs. Sludge. Muggle-borns included."

"That is a matter of opinion, Miss Skeeter," Mrs. Sludge said evenly, "Anyway, I have been sent to ask you to please desist from writing on the DKV and the trial. We can make it worth your while if it is an income you are seeking. We will pay you three times what your publisher would," the witch said. "We realize you make your living by your writing after all."

Rita narrowed her eyes at the witch.

"Are you attempting to bribe me, Mrs. Sludge?" the reporter asked the witch.

Mrs. Sludge's face contorted distastefully.

"'Bribe' is such an ugly word. How about 'compensate' you for your cooperation?" she replied, smiling.

Rita looked at the DKV representative. Now the reporter wasn't above taking a little something under the table to make a story go away. She'd done it before on quite a few occasions…only to supplement her income, mind you.

"I'm afraid I have a prior commitment, Mrs. Sludge, to the wizarding world. I will not sit by and watch as you turn our society into another Reich," she said evenly. "You've been brainwashed to believe, Mrs. Sludge that the source of all the pureblood's problems are muggle-borns. Any rational person can see that is a ridiculous assumption. If purebloods want to be in positions of power, then they simply have to work toward that goal to accomplish it. Not do it through bigoted reforms and unfair laws. Can't you see that, Mrs. Sludge?" Rita asked the witch.

Mrs. Sludge looked insulted.

"I do not appreciate you arguing my philosophies, Miss Skeeter. I am as entitled to my opinions as you are to yours," the witch said huffily.

"If they were only opinions, that wouldn't be a problem…but the DKV is slowly incorporating those 'opinions" into wizarding society. And they are destroying the fabric of our community," Rita said. "I will not be silent on this issue, Mrs. Sludge. Go tell your cronies at the DKV that."

Mrs. Sludge's eyes narrowed and her "ladies social" demeanor took on a decidedly sinister mien.

"I see, Miss Skeeter. Well, I tried to be reasonable. Some people just don't understand," she said, rising. "My wand please."

Rita looked at the witch. She knew she had just been put on notice. She opened the drawer, took out the wand and stood up.

"I will pass it through the door to you, Mrs. Sludge, when you leave," the witch said. She was still shielded.

Mrs. Sludge nodded curtly, stood and headed for the door.

"I hope, Miss Skeeter that you have the good sense to keep this little discussion to yourself," the witch said, her eyes narrowing.

Rita smirked at her.

"You would hope that, wouldn't you?" she replied.

Mrs. Sludge stared at the blonde, strong-jawed witch for a moment. She really was a piece of work.

"I really wish we could have reached an understanding, Miss Skeeter, for your sake," the witch said opening the door and stepping out into the hallway.

"As far as I am concerned, Mrs. Sludge, we have reached an understanding, and that is Rita Skeeter can't be bought out by the DKV," the reporter replied, passing the wand through the door, then slamming and warding it securely.

Mrs. Sludge stared at the door for a moment, then turned and walked away.

"Stupid, stupid halfblood," she hissed under her breath.

She'd done her best. Now others would have to handle Miss Rita Skeeter.

Rita returned to her desk and pushed all the letters aside. The primary thing on her mind was to hurry and write her column.

The public had a right to know.

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Her column turned in, Rita headed for home. She had raised the hood of her cloak to hide her face and had a shielding spell around herself that could reflect the basic hex, but if an Unforgivable was shot at her…she was a goner. The witch looked around carefully as she headed for the public apparation point. She didn't see anyone who seemed to be watching or following her, but there were a lot of people around. She couldn't be sure. The reporter flinched as a wizard bumped into her.

"Sorry," he said, continuing on.

Rita tried to still her beating heart. Finally she made it to the apparation point and apparated to her small flat in Shropshire. She looked around but the street in the neat little neighborhood was clear. Quickly she collected the pile of newspapers outside her door and let herself in.

Suddenly she was leaped on by a growling form and knocked back against the door.

"Stop it, Gabby," the witch said in irritation.

The toothy black weredog grinned at his Mistress, took his huge paws off her chest and sat down on his haunches. Rita patted the brute on his head. Gabby looked like a cross between a wolf and a hyena. He had a long neck and humped back, but longer hindquarters than a hyena, and was covered in shaggy black fur. The weredog weighed about two hundred pounds. He also seemed to have too many pointed teeth for his mouth.

She had Gabby since he was a werepup, and although a weredog was an unusual pet, he was a good one, and very protective of Rita. His tail thumped the floor as he looked up at her.

"What a day I've had Gabby. You might have to eat someone," she said to the weredog.

Gabby pricked up his ears at this.

Eat someone? Oh, he could do that all right.

Rita took off her coat and hung it in the foyer closet. She looked down at Gabby who was giving her a big, and rather frightening doggie smile. Of course, it was adorable to Rita, and she patted him again.

"Come on," she said walking toward the kitchen, dropping the papers on the coffee table as she passed through the living room.

Gabby padded after Rita into the kitchen expectantly, sat down and whined as she opened her cooler, took out a rather large brown package and unwrapped it. It was the leg of some animal. It still had hair on it. Rita picked it up gingerly by its cloven hoof and tossed it to Gabby, who snatched it out of midair and began chomping blissfully.

"Goat haunch," Rita said to the beastie as blood gushed out of the haunch. Well, Gabby was good at cleanup. He never left a drop of anything he ate.

Rita then walked over to Gabby's water bowl, emptied it into the sink and gave him fresh water. Gabby had his own huge pet door at the back of the flat, so could go out into the backyard and do his business at will.

Her pet fed and watered, Rita set about fixing her own dinner…a salad with a touch of oil and vinegar. She was dieting. Again. Age was squaring her off and she was desperately trying to retrieve her failing curves. It was an uphill battle. She was seriously considering going to the muggle world and enlisting the aid of someone called a "plastic surgeon" who could supposedly restore any aspect of a woman's body. The procedure was rather barbaric, but permanent, unlike wizarding methods of sprucing a body up. It might be worth it.

Gabby finished his meal, walked over and sat down next to Rita as she consumed her small salad. He sniffed and made a doggie face. Nothing tasty on the table as far as he was concerned.

Rita finished her salad, drank down her bottled water and washed her bowl.

"Now let's see what's in the news, Gabby," the witch said, heading for the living room and turning on a bright magical lamp. She sat down on her sofa and picked up the first paper. Gabby lay down at her feet, his huge head on his paws.

She had picked up the Quibbler. On the front page was a picture of Minister Figglesworth outside the Ministry, ducking as an egg flew past him, his face contorted with terror. Rita laughed herself into conniptions.

She wiped her eyes and read the articles about the trial. Draco was an asshole. He would be lucky if he didn't end up in Azkaban himself after this. But Malfoys were notorious for avoiding incarceration. He'd probably land on his feet despite his bad showing..

Rita continued reading until it was time for bed. She yawned and stretched.

"Time for bed, Gabby," the witch said, walking into her bedroom. Gabby took a quick trot outside to relieve himself then returned, entering Rita's bedroom. The witch looked at him.

"Be on your guard, Gabby. Mum's made a lot of enemies today," she said. "As a matter of fact, I'm going to take a bit of precaution myself."

Rita walked over to the thick curtains that covered her bedroom windows. And transformed.

Gabby sniffed the beetle. It still smelled like Rita so he didn't do anything to it. He was used to her transforming, though she had to train him not to eat her when he was a pup. She transformed with a rolled parchment in her hand, and when the werepup went for her, she would transform back and hit him on the nose with it. He soon learned.

Gabby watched as the beetle laboriously climbed up the curtain until it reached the top and moved into a safe, stationary position and fell still. That's how Rita was going to sleep tonight and every night until this all was over. She'd be safe this way.

Gabby turned around three times, lay down under the window and closed his eyes.

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At about three o'clock in the morning, the front door of Rita's flat clicked. The beetle on the curtain didn't stir, but Gabby opened one eye at the strange sound. Silently he rose and padded out of the bedroom and into the living room.

Weredog have night vision, and Gabby fought back a growl as he saw a wizard with a long dagger in one hand and a wand in the other moving quietly from the foyer towards him. The weredog's eyes narrowed. He knew what a wand was and what it could do. When there was a wand, that was the first thing to go for.

Gabby crouched behind the sofa, his muscles bunched, waiting for the man to move closer.

"Lumos," the wizard whispered, the tip of his wand lighting up.

He tiptoed past the sofa. Suddenly, he had a strange feeling and looked down to see luminous green eyes staring back at him for a moment, before they flashed forward.

He didn't even have a chance to scream.

The next morning, Aurors were summoned to Rita Skeeter's house to collect the remains of the wizard who had entered her home. All that was left was his head and an arm. Gabby sat by the kitchen door, licking his lips and looking quite proud of himself as the Auror's put the pieces of the wizard into a bag and collected the dagger and wand. Rita stood in her house robe. She had sleepily kicked the head of the wizard as she walked through the living room to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She screamed as Gabby proudly dropped the remaining arm at her feet. He was stuffed, so figured she might want some. Rita didn't.

Several Aurors kept an eye on Gabby, who was grinning at them with all his teeth, presenting quite a frightening image.

"Good gods, who keeps a weredog for a pet?" one Auror said to the others as they studied Gabby.

"Obviously Rita Skeeter does. And good thing too. This wizard was going to kill her, and not with his wand. Probably has something to do with the article she wrote. Well anyway, we've got his head and it's in pretty good shape. We ought to be able to identify him. There's prints on the hand too."

"Damn, I can't believe it ate him," another Auror said, paling as Gabby licked his lips, his yellow eyes resting on the wizards as if thinking about dessert, "Not a bit of blood anywhere."

A collective shudder went through the Aurors as Rita Skeeter walked up to the animal, dropped down and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Thanks Gabby. I knew I wasn't crazy when I took you in. Good weredog," she said, hugging him. Gabby let out a whine and licked her face lovingly. "I'm going to see if I can get a zebra haunch delivered for you," she said affectionately.

Gabby's tail thumped the floor and he looked at his Mistress with love.

Nothing and no one would ever harm Rita as long as he was around.

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A/N: Wow. Rita has a pet weredog. A very protective one it seems. Lol. Plus she's sleeping in her animagus form. I doubt if any more DKV members will come to her flat. She will probably add extra protections as well, though Gabby is pretty damn good. Please review.