When Hermione Fights

The Beetle

The Beetle

Today was the day I'd promised to free the beetle. As far as I was concerned, she could live out her days as a miserable insect and the world would be no worse off, but unfortunately there were reasons to keep Miss Skeeter human. Her leave of absence from work – which I had kindly submitted on her behalf – would end tomorrow, and I didn't want her to lose her job. She would be so much more useful to me where she was.

It was around midday when I went searching in my suitcase for the glass jar. I knew I was grinning like a madman - this was going to be fun. I set the jar down on my bed, and my smile turned mean. Are you scared yet, Rita? I thought to myself, as the beetle tried its best to look indignant. You'll learn your mistake soon enough. My hands shook a little from anticipation as I opened the jar, and tipped it on its side so that the beetle could get out. Control yourself, Hermione. I took a few deep breaths and refocused, aiming my wand at the pitiful thing.

"Just so you don't get any ideas, Rita!' I warned, and the beetle crawled slowly, suspiciously, out of its prison and onto the bed.

"Revolvio Animagi," I exclaimed, pointing to the insect.

The beetle grew and grew and, slowly but surely, transformed into the human form of Rita Skeeter - I had learnt the spell against Animagus transformation in my third year. After we had stopped Wormtail, and Remus and Sirius magically disarmed him, it wasn't difficult for me to find the spell.

"Incarcerus," I quickly threw the next spell that would render Miss Skeeter unable to move. Fascinated, I watched ropes wrap around the body of the reporter and bind her.

My mouth twitched into a smirk as I looked coldly over her horrified face. I could not resist a triumphant grin as I looked at the helpless figure that was lying in front of me. Her make-up was smeared and pasty, and her hair had the greasy look of someone that had not seen water for a long time. A thick pimple glowed red and yellow on her chin. It looked she'd lost a bit of weight too, the poor woman.

I did provide food – not my fault if she didn't like leaves.

Rita looked at me behind her too-big glasses with eyes that said, if she could have, she would have gone straight for my throat. "Hello Rita!", I greeted her warmly, faux-affection smothering the words, but I knew my eyes were cold. This was a fun game, but maybe only for me. Never mind – I was still enjoying myself.

"How are you feeling?' I asked, tilting my head. 'It must have been nice the last few weeks, some time to relax, away from the quick quotes quill?" I was winding her up, blinking at her sweetly and jutting out my bottom lip to exaggerate my 'concern'. I wanted to see if she was foolish enough to react to my words. She lay with her lips drawn into a pencil-thin line, so small you couldn't see her mouth except for the smudged lipstick everywhere, and tied like a package on my bed. On closer inspection, I thought I could see that she was biting her lips, perhaps to stop herself from retorting, screaming, yelling?

"What is it, Rita, you're not saying anything? Or have you gone mute, is that a side effect of longer animagus transformation?" I asked, clearly worried for my dear friend's wellbeing. I threaded my wand into my hair and casually twisted a few curls.