Upon hearing Tver's words, Rita let out a sharp, mocking laugh.
"Indispensable? The only things indispensable in the wizarding world are my quill and my parchment!"
She defiantly pulled out a third quill—an ordinary one this time—grabbed the parchment, glanced over its contents with satisfaction, and continued writing by hand—
The recent attacks at the school clearly reveal Dumbledore's sinister plan. He intends to use dark magic on Muggle-born students to train the next Dark Lord of his choosing. For example…
She read it aloud on purpose, obviously trying to provoke Tver.
Even Marvolio, who had nothing to do with it, laughed in disbelief.
"See? Told you being direct works better."
Tver didn't reply. He simply watched Rita with a calm, steady gaze.
"That so-called Chosen One isn't as simple as people think. From what I know, he's repeatedly expressed dissatisfaction with his Muggle guardians in public, and even attempted—"
Rita suddenly noticed her quill had stopped writing.
Frowning, she dipped it into the inkwell and tried again.
Still nothing.
No—something was wrong.
This time, even the words she had already written began to writhe, as though each letter had come alive, struggling to escape the parchment.
Panicking, Rita flung the parchment to the floor.
The ink actually broke free.
Line after line, letter after letter lifted off the paper in perfect order, floating into the air like a ribbon of living script.
When the parchment was completely blank, the ribbon of text found its target.
It spiraled around Rita, weaving tighter and tighter, nearly wrapping around her head.
"It's you!" Rita shouted, instantly realizing what was happening. She clutched her wand with shaking fingers. "You're behind this!"
"Don't worry. All you need to do is revise the content—"
"No!" she shrieked. "A journalist's first rule is truth!"
Even Marvolio couldn't help laughing.
But the reply came not from him—from the floating words.
"Don't come closer! Ah—gah!"
The letters slashed across her face like blades, carving black marks into her skin.
The pain felt like searing etchings burning into her flesh.
A scream tore from her throat—so sharp it could have ruptured eardrums—but Tver sealed her mouth just in time. Otherwise, she might have damaged her vocal cords.
After a while, the stabbing pain began to subside.
Rita collapsed onto the sofa, heaving for breath. Sweat beaded on her face, sliding in odd zigzags before dripping down her chin onto her chest.
Her pupils were blown wide with fear. And that was the only expression her ruined face could still show.
Her trembling hand lifted, brushing over her skin.
Her once perfectly-maintained complexion was now rough and uneven. With her sensitivity to text, she instantly recognized the shapes—these were the very letters that had been carved into her moments earlier.
From Marvolio's angle, every inch of her face was packed with cramped lettering. Even her eyelids weren't spared. When she blinked, the word liar flashed across her lids. Only the tiny spaces between the letters revealed glimpses of her original pale skin.
If Tver hadn't been considerate enough to avoid her eyeballs and nostrils, the result would have been truly unwatchable.
"You… what did you do to my face?" she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes, her voice shaking.
She had never heard of a spell like this. What terrified her even more was that Tver had remained seated on the sofa the whole time, not moving a single finger, yet had unleashed magic of this level.
How had she never encountered such a terrifyingly powerful Defence Against the Dark Arts professor when she was at school?
"Just a little decoration." Tver smiled, though to Rita it felt anything but harmless.
"As long as you follow my instructions and publish the report within a week, the writing will disappear. You can pretend none of this ever happened."
"But what if I can't get it published within a week?"
"Then you'll need to think about what kind of mask you'll wear when you go outside."
Rita's heart, which had only just relaxed, tightened all over again. She wailed, "But my article might not even get approved! The editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet has to sign off on it!"
"That's not our concern."
Tver leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossed his legs, and exchanged a knowing look with Marvolio.
Rita seized the moment as if grabbing a lifeline.
"Dawlish!" she cried desperately. "You're an Auror! How can you stand there watching him threaten me? Arrest him—send him to Azkaban!"
"Sorry, Madam Skeeter," Marvolio said, copying Tver's crossed legs and tilting his head back, looking at her down the length of his nose with lazy arrogance. "I'm currently off duty."
Rita's mouth opened and closed several times, speechless, her gaze bouncing between the two wizards. After a long, defeated moment, her shoulders sagged.
"Fine. I'll do what you want."
"See? Would've been easier if you'd just done that from the start," Marvolio quipped.
Rita pursed her lips tightly, ignoring him.
"So… how exactly should I describe the attack on Hogwarts?"
"Report it truthfully. Remember, truth is the most important part," Tver said, his tone firm.
"And make sure you don't criticize Dumbledore. Portray him as Hogwarts' protector."
Rita paused, watching him carefully.
"I don't understand your goal. If you want to protect Hogwarts, you shouldn't have come to me at all—just cover everything up inside the castle."
"If you want to replace Dumbledore, you should be asking me to expose him."
"But right now, your instructions contradict both."
Tver shook his head.
"That's not something you need to worry about. Just publish the report, wait for Dumbledore to be temporarily suspended, and then criticize the Ministry."
"How can you be so sure he'll be suspended?"
"Again, that's not your concern. If he isn't suspended, then you don't need to do anything."
Strange—far too strange.
Rita had no idea what Tver was planning with all this maneuvering.
But Tver had no intention of elaborating. Seeing that she understood her task, he stood smoothly, Marvolio rising with him.
"Thanks for your cooperation. Dawlish may need something later—you'll be helping again."
Rita cast a long, miserable glance at the silent Marvolio.
"Can I refuse?"
"That depends on your courage." He grinned.
Just as they were leaving, Tver paused and turned back.
"Oh, and those letters on your face? They can kill you at any time, even after they've disappeared."
Bang—
The moment the two vanished, Rita's legs gave out, and she dropped to her knees on the floor.