B.Q. Book Two: Black Princess Ascendant

Chapter 9: Truth Stranger than Fiction

James's attitude is mostly due to him conflating Dark, dark, and evil. The first refers to a sociopolitical philosophy; blood purity, isolation from the Muggle world, and support of plutocracy are hallmarks of Dark-minded individuals. The second term is for someone who uses dark magic, which is aggressive and destructive in nature and fueled by one's negative emotions, like anger and hatred. The third term I shouldn't need to explain. Admittedly, many of the Dark Houses used to use dark magic extensively back in the olden days, and you can do some pretty evil things with dark magic – the various black magics being the best examples – but a wise man knows those three terms are distinct. James... isn't exactly a wise man.

So... Yeah, this chapter kind of got away from me, and what was meant to be 3,000 words max became over 7,500.

Disclaimer: Did Snape honestly go by himself into the tunnel under the Whomping Willow when he was a student at the direction of Sirius, someone he absolutely loathed and had less than zero reason to trust? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
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Rita's heels clacked loudly as she walked down the tiled corridor leading to the Hall of Records. With a flip of her blonde ringlets, she pointedly ignored the hostile eyes of the Ministry workers she passed; though the employees of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement despised her for the number of articles she had penned that depicted them as the idiotic buffoons they were, they and she both knew there was nothing they could do in retaliation. Publishing her views outright would see them descend upon her and slam her with trumped-up libel charges, but so long as she couched her accusations in rumor and speculation, she was safe from any reprisals.

Oh, how that burned them!

She smiled faintly as she neared her goal. The Hall of Records was the center of the Ministry's information hub. Every form, every slip of parchmentwork, every single piece of documentation necessary for running the country was stored in that six-story library. Admittedly, there were several sections that were restricted, access only allowed by the Keepers who ran the office, but the lowest level was open to the public for any witch who wanted trivial or dated information.

Not what I need, of course, but it's so much easier to break into a house through an open door than a locked window. Shooting a mocking grin to the investigators who had just exited the room and receiving sharp glares in return, she pushed open the tall double doors. A quick glance at the clock above the Keepers' desk in the middle of the room assured her that she had arrived at the perfect time, only ten minutes until the Hall officially closed.

She crossed the room and hid herself in one of the census aisles, her hands paging through the numerous sheets of parchment while her eyes watched the hands of the clock rather than text. The chime signaling five-thirty echoed loudly through the practically abandoned library, and as if summoned by the sound, a portly wizard in an ink-stained orange robe hustled over to her. Her gaze slid back to the boring columns of numbers in front of her, though they were both aware it was only an act. Higginbotham was a most valuable resource of hers.

"Madam?" the man said, gesturing towards the door. "The Hall has closed for today. I have to ask you to leave."

"Consider the question asked."

He turned to look around before scooting deeper into the stacks, and his voice lowered as he hissed, "Skeeter, I don't know what you're up to this time, but I can't help you. That stunt you pulled with the Parkinsons nearly cost me my job."

She avoided rolling her eyes at his complaint, but it was a near thing. Poor baby, almost losing a job that pays five sickles an hour to stand around all day and point people to the right shelves. Yes, that would be such a tragedy, far more important than revealing that Eugene Parkinson gave Madeline Jones a house to keep her quiet about their affair. "Yet you're still here, so I can only guess you escaped without too much punishment."