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HRA# CHAPTER 187
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 23:46:49 +0000 UTCA piece of news seismic enough to send shockwaves through the Ministry of Magic and the entire wizarding society.
For the first time, a thought stirred in Rita Skeeter’s mind: perhaps being a journalist who dared to speak the truth wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
The thrill of challenging authority, of exposing government secrets and uncovering its mistakes, was utterly exhilarating.
Wait a moment—thinking about it, it had been quite a while since she’d gone out of her way to fabricate or twist a story. No need to rack her brain crafting tales to captivate readers; simply presenting the facts, timed and paced just right, was enough to cause a sensation in the wizarding world.
And it all began last year, because of the boy standing before her—the former treasure of the wizarding world, now the Lightning Demon.
The physical pain and mental fear kept Rita from even daring to harbor resentment in her heart. She pushed those thoughts aside, feeling only gratitude.
After ironing out some details with Harry, Rita hurriedly took her leave, transforming back into a beetle and slipping away.
Watching the shimmering green beetle dart out the window, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if a wizard in Animagus form could fall prey to predators in the wild—like birds or creatures that fed on beetles. An Animagus in animal form lacked magical abilities and couldn’t cast spells. If they died in that state, well, that’d be a pointless death.
After seeing Rita off, it wasn’t long before Hagrid arrived with his culinary masterpiece. Harry loved this feeling—after years of living alone, he finally had a neighbor, and not just any neighbor, but one he got along with splendidly.
Over rustic grilled meat and the strong liquor Harry had prepared, the two of them drank themselves into a stupor that night.
The next morning, Harry was jolted awake by the sharp peck of an owl on the back of his hand. The pounding headache and dizziness from his hangover nearly drove him to strangle the poor creature. He apologized profusely, even offering a bag of Jaina Proudmoore’s special owl nuts, but the owl remained thoroughly unappeased.
It was a delivery owl from The Daily Prophet. Harry paid the subscription fee for the next month, and the owl flew off in a huff. Turning around, he found Jaina perched on the railing he’d set up for her in the highest part of the room, staring at him coldly.
Great. Now he had another apology to make.
It took considerable effort to soothe the owl lady’s indignation. Meanwhile, Hagrid was still snoring like a hibernating bear, sprawled out in the living room where they’d crashed. Empty bottles littered the floor around them. Harry grabbed a few pieces of cold grilled meat for breakfast, then opened the day’s newspaper.
Rita worked fast.
Or rather, with Harry’s backing—and the belief that Dumbledore would support her too—The Daily Prophet, no longer restrained by the Ministry’s influence, had erupted into action. Today’s edition was an extra-thick one.
Unlike previous reports about elemental magic and its ties to Harry, which had been parceled out slowly to maintain buzz, today’s Prophet unleashed everything that had happened at Hogwarts yesterday in one go, as if they feared there’d be no chance to publish it later.
“Ancestral Spirits! A Reunion with Lost Loved Ones!”
“In yesterday’s first-ever Shamanism class at Hogwarts, this reporter witnessed a scene so legendary it defied belief. James Potter, who heroically fell twelve years ago in the fight against Voldemort and whose sacrifice helped bring about the Dark Lord’s disappearance, appeared once more before my eyes—or rather, before everyone in that classroom…”
Rita started with a bombshell, diving straight into soul magic—a subject that danced on the edge of wizarding society’s moral boundaries and legal prohibitions—without so much as a preamble.
“Magic for Muggle Use?! No More Muggles in the World!”
“Following the first report, still within the Shamanism class, we know Hogwarts has welcomed its youngest-ever professor. With Professor Potter’s permission, this reporter had the honor of conducting an interview with him.”
“Throughout the interview, I was astonished to find that, despite being no older than the students at Hogwarts, Professor Potter’s demeanor and presence were far from childish. He carries a maturity that surpasses many adults.”
“…I couldn’t help but marvel—perhaps there truly are those born with innate genius, whose very existence stretches beyond the imagination of ordinary people like myself. It’s no wonder he discovered the existence of elements, founded elemental magic, and redefined the role of a shaman…”
In the opening of the second major article, Rita showered Harry with praise—not the blatant, off-putting kind, but a clever, subtle flattery woven through her perspective on his actions yesterday. It was discreet, making it easier for readers to swallow.
Her approach ensured readers didn’t feel force-fed ideas but instead thought, This is exactly what I believe. This is what I think.
“…Professor Potter isn’t merely a gifted genius; he’s a genius who has already come into his own. Conventional logic doesn’t apply to someone like him, just as the changes he’s brought to the wizarding world defy our outdated reasoning. The old ways are obsolete and must be cast aside.”
“Yes, this extraordinary shamanic magic—elemental magic and the ancestral magic mentioned in the first article—can be mastered not only by Squibs but even by Muggles completely unable to wield wizarding magic!”
Though Harry had been cautious in his class yesterday, Rita’s words made it sound as if Muggle shamans were already a reality.
Perhaps to make it more palatable to ordinary wizards, Rita avoided calling Harry’s magic “soul magic,” instead dubbing it “ancestral magic.” This aligned with Dumbledore’s approach when discussing it with the Wizengamot’s many wizards: rather than emphasizing soul magic, the focus was on the summoned ancestral spirits. The magic comes from the ancestors. My departed grandfather wants to help me—got a problem with that?
It was a clever sidestep.
For wizards accustomed to ghosts, steeped in superstition about magic, fate, and tradition, ancestral spirits were just ghosts capable of casting spells. No big deal. Rita’s reporting leaned heavily into this mindset.
Changing the wizarding public’s entrenched views on soul magic overnight was impossible. Such magic, by its nature, came with costs and was inevitably seen as dark. The only solution was to differentiate it clearly.
Ancestors aren’t evil, are they?
Everyone has regrets, especially when a beloved family member passes. Unless you’re a heartless monster like Voldemort, who wouldn’t feel sorrow?
Not every wizard becomes a ghost after death. But now, there was a magic that let you see your departed loved ones again, even if only temporarily. Unlike ghosts, they couldn’t linger, but it was enough to talk, to catch up, to ease the pain of loss.
What harm could it do? It didn’t affect the living world.
For the chaotic, magic-embracing wizards, accustomed to the extraordinary, this new magic would eventually feel natural.
It’s hard to say what mindset gripped the wizards reading these articles over breakfast—some might have let their imaginations run wild, others might have felt unsettled. But one thing was certain: they were all stirred up by these world-shattering revelations.
Rita, however, was careful not to steer wizarding thought toward breaking the Statute of Secrecy. That issue was too murky to tackle.
If those with magical ability are wizards and those without are Muggles, and Squibs are non-magical people born to wizarding families, then what do you call a Muggle who can learn magic?
Aren’t they a wizard now, since they possess magical ability?
Even the Statute of Secrecy’s definitions were blurring. But those were problems for later. Rita trusted in the wisdom of future generations—and in the wisdom of that person.
It wasn’t a journalist’s job to worry about such things. Her job was to tell the truth.
Just tell the truth.
As shocking as ancestral magic and the idea of Muggle wizards were, when wizards flipped the newspaper over during breakfast, expecting lighter news to calm their rattled nerves, many spat out their water or milk in shock.
A bold, blackened headline screamed: “Twelve Years of Injustice: Sirius Black—A Hero in the Shadows?!”
“As detailed in the previous two articles, during Professor Potter’s class yesterday, this reporter witnessed him summon the soul of his ancestor. As someone who lived through that dark era, I had seen James Potter—the hero who saved the wizarding world—multiple times. And there he was, as vibrant and optimistic as he’d been in life, kind and approachable.”
“With Professor Potter’s permission, I conducted a detailed interview with James Potter’s soul. Through it, I uncovered a secret buried for twelve years!”
“We all know of the Fidelius Charm, a spell that, during those dark days, protected many families from Death Eaters. The Potters, naturally, used this charm as well.”
“But as we know, tragedy struck. Sirius Black was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper, but he betrayed them. Voldemort found the Potters, killed them, and was ultimately defeated by Harry Potter, disappearing from the world and bringing peace to the wizarding world.”
“That’s the story we’ve known for twelve years. But is it the truth?”
“This reporter heard, straight from James Potter’s soul, a staggering secret: Sirius Black was only the decoy Secret-Keeper. Everyone knew he was bold, fearless, and deeply trusted by the Potters, making him the perfect red herring. The true Secret-Keeper was someone unassuming, someone many considered incompetent and weak—Peter Pettigrew.”
“I write these words with a trembling hand, for this buried history, this unknown truth. Merlin help me, I can scarcely believe it myself. The man we all hailed as a martyr, whose name is etched on the monument for those who fought the Dark Arts—Peter—was the true traitor?!”
“It’s unthinkable, unimaginable, yet I must accept it as the truth—because it came from James Potter’s own mouth. Who could know the truth better than the man himself?”
“After accepting this reality, I dug into the records of Sirius Black’s imprisonment and found the case riddled with inconsistencies.”
“First, when Sirius was apprehended, he offered no resistance. He only laughed maniacally, harming no one.”
“Second, the trial that sent Sirius to Azkaban wasn’t even conducted through proper Wizengamot procedure. Barty Crouch, then head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and now head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, threw Sirius into Azkaban without trial or verification!”
“Here’s where it gets strange. According to records, Sirius Black said nothing after his capture. He didn’t defend himself, didn’t cry out his innocence, didn’t reveal the switch in Secret-Keepers, and didn’t even request Veritaserum to clear his name.”
“This behavior starkly contrasts with that of captured Death Eaters, and in a way, it supports his innocence. He went to Azkaban willingly, and the speed of it was staggering.”
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
