Chapter 44: Manipulation is Exhausted!

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"Would you believe me if I said no, sir?" Harry could almost sense Dumbledore's amusement. "That's a no, then," he said. "It's probably to do with Malfoy."

"Yes, believe it or not." Leaning back in his chair, Dumbledore sighed. "You do understand that I cannot allow violence in my school to go unpunished?"

"Violence against junior Death Eaters who were the ones to start the fight in the first place?" Harry asked angrily.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't the impression that I was under."

For a moment, Harry stared incredulously at him. "You've worked in schools for God knows how long, and you're surprised about a student lying about who started a fight?"

"No," Dumbledore admitted with a shrug, "I just wanted your opinion on what happened before I acted."

"Well, I was just innocently walking down the corridor - as I often do - when Malfoy called out to me. After hearing rumours about him from the other students, I was understandably wary about his intentions. He obviously took offence to something, for he insulted my mother and went to draw his wand," Harry explained.

Nodding, Dumbledore asked, "And then?"

"I stunned both of his friends, disarmed him, and then neutralized the threat." Granted, that was a simplification, but it wasn't a lie. Still, Dumbledore persisted.

"Mr Malfoy said that you insulted him, and also that you threatened to kill him, and then magically choked him."

Harry raised an eyebrow, deadpanning, "So did Rita Skeeter - about the threat, anyway. Do you believe her?"

A sigh escaped Dumbledore. "Nonetheless, if the media hear of this, they will simply use it against both me and you."

"So this is what it's about?!" Harry demanded, his face twisting. "You simply don't want bad press?! Well I don't care!" With that, he turned and stormed from Dumbledore's office, knocking his chair over on the way out.

'Do you really think that Dumbledore is going to fall for that?'

Harry gave a telepathic shrug. 'What reason would he have to think that I don't frequently throw temper tantrums?'

'He will probably call us back at some point anyway.'

'And?' Harry asked. 'I'll just throw another tantrum. Oh, and speaking of what I threw my tantrum over….'

Rita Skeeter was napping in her armchair when she was awoken by a knock upon her door. She contemplated not answering it.

After receiving a rather large donation from an anonymous benefactor, she was set for quite a while, so it didn't really matter if it was someone looking for her to write a story.

It most likely was; she didn't have many friends, and anyone else would owl first. This would have to be one of the clients paranoid about their mail being intercepted.

A moment's thought later, she got to her feet. She wasn't only in this job for the money, she was in it because there were things that the public simply had a right to know about - whether or not she sometimes lied.

Speaking of her occasional fibs, they occasionally gained her enemies, and that was why she had multiple protective spells upon her apartment. Moving to the door, she raised her wand to check who was on the other side.

Fortunately for her, she didn't need to cast the one-way transparency spell, one that was rather handy when she was spying.

Unfortunately, this was because her door had just been reduced to splinters in an explosion of hellish light. She raised her wand to defend herself, an incantation beginning even as her vision began to clear, but she was not fast enough.

Her words were cut off as an invisible force grasped her throat in an iron grip, also muting her scream that started a moment later as a tendril of lightning blasted into her wand hand.

A booming, terrifying laugh rang in Rita's ears, and she was thrown to the floor, sobbing in pain. She was not given time to recover, however, and a moment later, she felt her chin being gripped and wrenched upwards by a metal hand.

Another scream burst from her mouth as she found herself staring into the face of what could only be a demon, its blank, black eyes staring upon her from within an equally dark helmet. Its mouth was not visible, but it clearly had one, for broken breaths, somehow metallic, filled the air.

"Who told you to slander Harry Potter?" It spoke in a deadly, rasping whisper, yet somehow, the noise reverberated through both her ears and mind.

"Please!" she begged. "I-I don't know! He didn't leave me a name!"

The demon must've sensed she was telling the truth, for it drew back, standing to its full height, which appeared to be at least two meters. "Very well, mortal." For a brief moment, Rita felt relief. It was shattered, however, as the demon uttered, "Then you are no use to me."

A beam of red light, about a meter in length leapt from the previously unseen sword-like hilt in the demon's hand. Rita didn't have time to start her final scream before a searing heat pierced her heart.

Harry gasped as he pulled away from Skeeter's mind, finishing the illusion off with a final stab at her mind and releasing his hands from her head.

He glanced around the apartment he had broken into, finding it empty but for Skeeter's form, still dormant in her bed.

This method of illusion was far more complex than his usual ones, thus requiring the victim to be sleeping and in contact if he wanted to pull it off successfully.

It was also exhausting, requiring Harry and Loki to stay just outside the border of one's mind and constantly manipulate it.

Then again, the benefits of it far exceeded the downsides, for there would be no murder to investigate and Rita would think it a dream.

And even if she didn't, who was going to believe that Darth Vader had broken into her mind and killed her?

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