I am Peter Pettigrew

As I left the classroom, the echoes of laughter and chatter from the second years faded behind me. It was easy, slipping into that role—the kind, enthusiastic professor who made learning feel like fun. But beneath the smiles and gentle corrections was a razor-sharp focus. The students had no idea how close they were to someone who could turn their lives upside down without a second thought.

When I reached my office, I locked the door behind me, sealing myself in the dim room. The air was thick with the scent of old books and ink, but my eyes went straight to the corner where Rita lay, still unconscious, covered by the invisibility cloak. I walk towards her and remove the cloak, she is sprawled awkwardly where I'd left her. For a moment, I simply watch her, weighing the options in my mind. She was a threat, yes, but she was also a tool. And tools, when properly managed, could be extremely useful.

The love potion was an obvious choice. Simple, direct, and effective. Rita's sharp tongue and nasty habit of prying into everyone's secrets would be much more tolerable if she was obsessed with me. I could make her think she'd come here of her own free will, eager to dig up some fabricated story. It would be easy to twist her memories, make her believe she was acting on her own curiosity.

I went to my cabinet, fingers brushing over the vials until I found what I was looking for—a delicate bottle with a faint pink liquid inside. This particular concoction was a work of art, tailored specifically for people like Rita. It wouldn't just make her fall in love; it would fill her with a desperate need to please me, to do anything I asked, without a shred of doubt. Even the ingredients for it were quite expensive and naturally it was illegal to make. Still it was quite easy to buy as the underworld/criminal world of the wizarding world is quite expansive.

As I prepared the potion, I thought through every detail. Skeeter was no fool—if I got even one thing wrong, her suspicions would flare up, and she'd start digging. So I took my time, carefully crafting the new memories I'd implant. She'd remember wandering the castle after the wand-weighing ceremony, curious as ever, and deciding to visit me for a potential lead. I'd plant just enough truth to make it convincing.

Once everything was in place, I turned to her and waved my wand, muttering the counter-curse to lift the Stunning Spell. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, confusion clouded her eyes. But as the potion and the altered memories took hold, I saw the change—a spark of recognition, followed by something warmer, more eager. Her eyes met mine, and instead of the sharp, calculating gaze I had seen before, they were filled with a disturbing mixture of admiration and… adoration.

"Well, Rita," I said smoothly, holding out the glass with more of the potion, now disguised as a simple drink. "I'm glad you decided to stop by. I've been expecting you."

She smiled, a sickly sweet expression that looked wrong on her normally shrewd face. Without hesitation, she took the glass and drank it down in one gulp. The potion worked faster than I'd anticipated—her eyes lit up, her posture softened, and she leaned in toward me, hanging on every word as if they were pearls of wisdom.

This was perfect. I watched her, the once-dangerous reporter now utterly devoted to me, her sharp wit and biting tongue dulled by the potion's effects. Her usual smirk was replaced with a simpering expression, one that almost made me laugh. How quickly the mighty fall when they're properly controlled.

The power I held over her was intoxicating. With Skeeter under my thumb, I could use her influence, twist her to do my bidding. And if she ever became too difficult to manage… well, I had ways of dealing with pests like her. For now, though, I'd let her think she was playing a game she could win. I'd let her believe she was clever, while she unwittingly did exactly what I wanted.

This was how you survived in a place like the wizarding world—by staying three steps ahead of everyone else. Skeeter was just the latest piece on the board, one that would be very useful in the days to come. I couldn't help but smile as I considered the possibilities.

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Peter leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as he eyed Rita with mild curiosity. "So, tell me, Rita. What brings you to my office today? Surely you're not here just for a friendly chat."

Rita gave a sly smile, her red lips curling at the edges. "Oh, Peter, don't be so modest. I think we both know there are plenty of reasons I might be drawn to someone like you." Her voice dripped with playful insinuation as she leaned a bit closer, eyes gleaming behind her jeweled glasses. "You've always been an intriguing character, haven't you? Always in the thick of things, always a bit more than meets the eye."

Peter smiled faintly, letting her play her game. She was good at this—flattery mixed with just the right amount of charm and subtle provocation. But he knew there was more on her mind. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Rita," he said smoothly, "but I doubt you're here just for a bit of banter. What is it you're really after?"

Rita's eyes sparkled as she adjusted her glasses and leaned back in her chair. "Alright, you've caught me. I was hoping to dig up something juicy about our dear Harry Potter. The boy's practically a goldmine for headlines these days, and let's be honest, people are dying to know more. I have a feeling you could give me some insight—perhaps something the public hasn't heard yet?" She tilted her head, her voice oozing with curiosity.

Peter's expression remained calm, though his eyes flickered with a hint of something sharper. "Harry's a remarkable young wizard," he began, his tone casual. "Bright, talented, and braver than most his age. It's no wonder he's in the spotlight, but I'll ask you this: do you really think digging up dirt on him is the best use of your talents?"

Rita raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by his response. "Of course it is, darling. Scandal sells, and Harry Potter is at the center of everything. A few choice words from me, and the readers will be hooked."

Peter leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm not saying you shouldn't write about Harry, Rita. In fact, I think you should—but write about the truth. Highlight his strengths, his determination. The wizarding world has enough negativity swirling around him as it is. What good would it do to pile more onto his shoulders?"

Rita's flirtatious smile wavered for a moment, replaced by a hint of skepticism. "Positive press? That's hardly my specialty, Peter. You know as well as I do that scandal drives the headlines, and people thrive on gossip. What exactly are you getting at?"

Peter's smile was slow and calculated. "I'm suggesting you channel that sharp quill of yours in a more… beneficial direction. Leave Harry out of it, at least in terms of negativity. There are other targets more deserving of scrutiny. Take Severus Snape, for instance. Now there's a man who's managed to stay under the radar for far too long. There's a story there—how he's been running his classroom. The way he treats students, how he's dragged down the quality of their potion-making over the years and the standards in the country. The unfairness, the favoritism… it's a narrative worth exploring."

Rita's nose crinkled at the thought. Snape? He was a greasy, unpleasant man, sure, but writing about him wouldn't cause nearly the stir that something on Harry Potter would. Her readers craved scandal, drama, something explosive. Harry was at the center of everything these days, and anything about him was sure to be the talk of the wizarding world. Why would she waste her talents digging into Snape when Potter was right there?

Rita pursed her lips, considering his words. "Snape's no saint, but he's not exactly front-page material. Harry's where the interest lies. Why settle for a second-rate story? People want to hear about Potter. He's the story, not that miserable bat in the dungeons. I could give them something that'll have them hooked for weeks—rumors, secrets, everything they want to know."

Peter leaned in closer, his voice low and smooth. "Because if you do this for me, Rita, I'll make it worth your while. How does dinner sound? Just the two of us. A proper night out." His eyes gleamed with a promise, knowing full well the effect it would have.

Rita's heart skipped a beat. For a moment, her thoughts blurred even more. There was something off—she knew that much. Her head felt strange, like she was wading through molasses. She tried to focus, to remind herself of who she was—a fierce, independent journalist who didn't need to chase after anyone and yet…

Her cheeks flushed. A date with Peter? That was new. She couldn't quite remember everything from the night before, but she vaguely recalled drinking too much and… well, things had gotten wild. Maybe that's why she felt so strange now, like her thoughts weren't lining up properly. But Peter was here, and he was looking at her with that smooth confidence, making her feel giddy and important.

Rita felt a flush rise to her cheeks. Her thoughts were muddled, but the idea of spending time with Peter tugged at something inside her. "Dinner, hmm?" she repeated, biting her lip slightly as she considered. There was something about him that made her want to agree, even if part of her mind was still urging her to push for that Potter story.

"Fine," she relented, her tone softened by a mix of attraction and the haze clouding her judgment. "I'll do it. I'll write up a piece on Snape, make him look like the menace he is. But you owe me for this, Peter." She leaned in slightly, her eyes sparkling despite herself. "I expect that date, and don't you dare back out."

Peter's smile widened, and he gave a small, satisfied nod. "Of course, Rita. I wouldn't dream of it."

As he turned away, Rita couldn't help but feel a thrill run down her spine. She was playing a game, one she usually had the upper hand in. But something about Peter made her feel out of control—like she was being led along. But that didn't matter right now. She had a story to write, and the promise of a date with him to look forward to.

She couldn't shake the lingering fog in her head, though. Maybe she just needed a strong cup of coffee. Or maybe that party last night had taken more out of her than she'd realized. Either way, she pushed the doubts aside and let herself smile. After all, a date with Peter Pettigrew—who would've thought? Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.

As she left his office, Rita's mind was still swirling with thoughts, some of them tinged with confusion. Maybe it was the aftermath of last night's wild party, where she had ended up getting blackout drunk, waking up this morning surrounded by 2 muggle men, or maybe Peter's charm was simply too hard to resist. Either way, she had a story to write—and a date to look forward to.

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