Disclaimer: Even when talking about herself, she has to make everything revolve around her life, the cheeky little gossip that she is. She is also going to slander some of our faves, sorry not sorry xoxo.
Additional Disclaimer: Unreliable narrator (duh)
Playlist for Rita Skeeter - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1SJeiZjKtgWN8FF1KX5nKb?si=rapgVd-gSG2vS9oTm6mVmA&pt=6b5859e22f463a6c836a9b620441026e
Well hello once again my dear scoundrels, and welcome to Rita Skeeter’s Scandal Sheets. For those of you who have yet to join the Skeeter Scandal train, this lovely little column of your beloved Daily Prophet is dedicated to the sharing of all of the Magical United Kingdom’s (and the occasional international) most ear-catching rumors and gossip.
Though most days I relinquish spilling all these delicious secrets we all have (and secretly love to see revealed), today is all about your most cherished journalist, me! Admit it, you little rascals, it is impossible to not be curious about the quill that produces such a brilliant display every day for your most interested minds, so why not dish out all the details of my life, fears and desires all included.
So welcome to Rita Skeeter’s Scandal Sheets, Rita Skeeter edition!
First things first, of course, let me tell you all about my birth. Of course, I was born with my all-loving parents, in the infamous Skeeter family, but I’ll just about bet none of you knew that I first saw the light of day on the 7th of September 1955. Yes, my esteemed readers, I’m a Libra (shocking right?). Though a few very un-fun and sincerely not the type you’d want to invite to a party, people guess that I’m a Gemini because I’m just ‘not trustworthy’, which is just poppycock if you ask anyone who even remotely knows me (just ask my colleague, and our resident heartthrob and hero Gilderoy Lockheart, he’ll be more than happy to testify on my part, free of charge), I was indeed born under the sign of justice and all things beautiful. Though it is no secret amongst the world I love to see the sublime in all things around me, I am a very fair person, that I am. In fact, I would never do something unjust, like betray a colleague or steal a friend’s boyfriend. Dear readers, I know, just about now you’re wondering ‘who would do that?’, and to that I reply, ‘the things you see in the world’! Though thinking about it, wouldn’t that make a beautiful article? “Scandal Sheets; Cheats of Diagon Alley”. I can see it, and maybe you all shall next week, if you little miscreants behave. Anyways, enough sidetracking. I also have the brilliant sign of the lion, Leo, placed in my moon. This is maybe self-explanatory, I never shy from a party (in fact you might want to check out the top 10 party events that have shocked the streets themselves that came out in the Scandal Sheets two weeks ago). Besides, with great hair like mine, could you expect anything less than the king of the savannah? Finally, my dearies, I have a lovely Aquarius rising to finish the lot in greatness. That’s where I get my creative side from, if I might say. I was once told that Aquarius risings have peculiar eyes that look almost like they’re straight out a dream. Let me tell you, I definitely agree, though maybe those dreams might have been nightmares; up to you my dear readers to make a conclusion on that…
Next order of business. When I was eleven, like most of you reading this, I stepped into Ollivanders for my very own wand. Now, let’s be honest, Garrick is… interesting, if not to say absolutely crazy. But, as they say, all artists have something missing in their heads, am I right? That being said, I was first handed a horrendous red wand (that had no beauty or style, might I say), which of course ended in disaster for all parties concerned. But then, there it was, the beautiful instrument that would become my lifelong partner. I held it in my hand and knew we'd make a fine pair indeed. Its wood is Maple, with a brown hilt and beige end; very fashionable. Garrick Ollivander mumbled something about Maple wands favoring ambitious magic users, which I am, no surprise here. Pleasantries aside, my wand also happens to have a unicorn hair core. It’s always been reliable, and by reliable I mean that it almost seems that that little unicorn hair inside of my wand can just about read my mind to perform each magic trick I attempt exactly the way I planned it out, except for that one time near the Slytherin dungeons which I will not expand on further. Finally, my wand is unbending, much like my moral compass that is nevertheless hardly ever changing! Oh yes- how could I forget? It is also a formidable 11 ½ inches, which is no tell on the length of my personality, no matter what that Ollivander might say. Between us, sometimes I wonder how sane that man is. Sometimes I even wonder if there is any sense to his words, I’m pretty sure he babbles whatever comes to his mind when giving his ‘opinion’ about wands.
Tell me, dear reader, have you ever been in love? Or more like, have you ever wondered what it was that you truly loved? Well, if you’re anything like me that answer has in fact been answered in our dear Professor Slughorn’s classroom in sixth year. Horace has always been so generous to us when we were students wasn’t he? In my time at Hogwarts, he’d offered a vial of Liquid Luck, free of charge, to whomever made the best Amortentia potential. Now, between us, I’ve always believed Horace had been able to afford doing such things because of his little undeclared side business, but that’s besides the point. I personally did brilliantly at the brewing of that potion, but some little Slytherin teachers’ pet swabbed the prize right out of me. I can remember it as clearly as today’s lunch. Some lovesticken girl had commented on her potion smelling the same as me (can you blame her?), and the weasel flattered his way into Slughorn’s good graces. Either way, I remember smelling the faint smell of champagne, freshly printed press paper, and the mysterious fruity scent I wasn’t quite able to place. Now the first two are absolutely obvious; I love the night scene, and the press will always stay my true love, but let me tell you that I have no idea what that strawberry, or was it lemon (?), scent was doing here. Maybe should you keep posted on Skeeter Scandals we’ll find out together…
Tell me, dear reader, what are you the most afraid of? Is it a flying monster, or your lover finding out about your wife (let me tell you, there are plenty of affairs going on in our small London, perhaps all these secrets will be revealed soon enough…)? Personally, I’ve only encountered Boggarts twice; once in class, and once a few months ago in an attic. Both took the shapes of huge snakes (horrifying!!!). I hate snakes so much, they’re terrifying, especially when they attempt to hurt you knowing fully that you have no actual ill will for them. But as they say, boys will be boys, and snakes… will be snakes.
Finally, our last little Rita secret of the day shall be perhaps of our must desired ones. Yes, my dears, I am just about to reveal, free of charge, my most wonderful patronus. Now, like most of you would expect, I can most definitely make a corporeal patronus, are we surprised though? Its form is actually a fox, like little sly me. When casting the charm, I usually think of my lovely mother, or how successful I’ve become (thanks to the help of all my lovely readers - of course). The spell has never failed, trust me. The fox that comes out if very cheeky actually, he (I like to think he’s a he) always hops around me, as if trying to keep me safe from absolutely everything, how cute.
Well my little rascals, seems like this is the end of our time together, though I had so much fun revealing all my own little secrets with you. Perhaps we might do this with some other wizards, I’m sure our local celebrity Mr.Lockheart would revel in such an interview, free of charge. That being said, thank you for reading, and don’t forget to send me all your secret suspicions on my personal owl post box at the Daily Prophet.
Your Favorite Gossip Queen, Rita Skeeter.
SIDE NOTES (NOT ARTICLE) - BOGGART
For her own sake, Rita would never admit what her worst fear is; she’s way too proud and secretive for that, and she wouldn’t want the likes of Emma figuring out what it is in fear of the girl just straight up torturing her with it. She wouldn’t put it past her. So for the article she lied and made up something about ‘snakes’ (which gave her the opportunity to take a stab at Emma on the side). She doesn’t actually fear snakes, just doesn’t love them. Her biggest fear is rather failure, and seeing herself be shunned from the wizarding world, and most importantly the press world. She’s so incredibly proud of the progress she’s made in the Daily Prophet, and acquiring her own segment is a dream come true, having it taken away would be horrifying.
Also her patronus isn’t a corporal, and even less so a fox. No, she can barely produce a patronus charm, let alone having it take a shape. Besides, if it did have a shape, it would be a beetle, of course.
Writing Sample: Please provide us with at least 3 paragraphs in third person from the perspective of your character.
PURE ANGST, nothing else.
The world stopped. Or maybe this wasn’t a good way to phrase it. Rita Skeeter’s world stopped, and the seven shots of tequila she’d had with her friends were definitely not helping her make sense of it all. Rita wasn’t a lightweight, far from it. She was used to drinking at parties, and finding out exactly what she needed to know for her blog. But somehow, what she’d just seen was making every fiber of her brain swing, causing her to grab on the nearest thing she could find for balance, which just happened to be the bar.
She stood, dumbfounded. Clearly her mind was playing a trick on her? Or maybe this was some sort of cruel joke, and everyone would just stop what they were doing to yell “GOT YOU!!” and everything would be okay. But that’s not what was happening, and deep down, even before she got confirmation, Rita knew the truth. Her best friend, right in front of her, was kissing her boyfriend. Rita’s eyes went fuzzy before the tears started swelling, and the shock on her face only grew as she saw Emma stare right at her mid-kiss. She needed to get out, and get out now.
Running out of the party, her coat in hand, Rita headed to a nearby alleyway, sitting on the ground as she let the events catch up to her. As she realized what this meant, that Emma had betrayed her in such a manner, she let out an ear piercing scream, the tears now flooding her cheeks. She stayed like this for a while, choking on her own tears, barely being able to breathe, hidden in that little street. It was a dirty street too, probably as dirty as it had been centuries ago, but she couldn’t even bring herself to care about that. She couldn’t bring herself to think about anything but her.
Finally, after a few minutes, she managed to calm her breathing, steadying herself against the wall as she whipped her face clean. She stayed like this for a few seconds, regaining control of herself, before she apparated in front of her home. Still shaking, she attempted to unlock her door, keeping at it for a good minute before she broke down again, sliding against the door and starting to sob all over again. She’d never seen herself be such a mess. No, Rita was confident, a force to be reckoned with, yet right now she was a babbling mess who could barely stand up.
It took the woman another ten minutes to get the courage to pull out her wand and utter a broken ‘Alohomora’, the spell failing twice before she finally unlocked her door. When she was in, she simply threw her things to the ground, dashing to the bathroom. Staring at herself, she barely recognised the girl staring in the mirror. Mascara running, red nose, and tearful eyes, Rita would never have guessed such a thing would affect her so much. Slowly, she took off the purple dress she’d worn, a dress Emma had gifted her, she realized, looking at it when she’d put on the floor. Seeing it, something else grew upon her. Resentment, disbelief, and anger.
The little bitch. The jealous little bitch. Rita knew what this was. Emma was jealous and taking what little she could steal. She couldn’t handle Rita’s success and popularity, so she’d done the petty thing. She still couldn’t believe it though. Why? After all these years being as close as sisters, why? She was getting angrier by the second, and grabbing her wand, she yelled out ‘INCENDIO’. She watched the dress burn, as well as any love she could have had for Emma. At this point, she didn’t care about her boyfriend - or more like ex-boyfriend now - she cared about how her best friend had stabbed her in the back.
Yet, as it burned, Rita couldn’t help but let the tears flow again. They were tears of anger this time. Of anger, disappointment, and still, nevertheless, of sadness. She wanted to break something, but she felt too weak to do anything. A few minutes later, as she watched the flames stop burning, she felt the wave of exhaustion pick her up. She wanted the day to end. So, still in her underwear, not bothering to take off her makeup, she drifted to her bed, not even going under the covers as she cried herself to sleep.
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