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HRA# CHAPTER 124
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 20:08:23 +0000 UTCAs per Rita Skeeter’s wishes, Harry recounted the events of that day in great detail—naturally, omitting the parts involving Alfred, Fawkes, and the Malfoy family.
In Harry’s version, he was merely heading to the park as usual when, out of nowhere, he received a warning letter from the Ministry of Magic. At the time, he didn’t even know what kind of magic had triggered it.
It was a straightforward explanation, devoid of any embellishment or exaggeration… Truth be told, there wasn’t much for Harry to elaborate on. Yet, for some reason, Rita, seated across from him, seemed to have an endless stream of material to write about.
The journalist once again wrested control of her quill, which twitched and protested vigorously in her hand. She had to slam it against the table twice to subdue it, after which the quill obediently resumed its work.
Without even glancing at what she was writing, Rita’s eyes never left Harry. In an eager tone, she speculated about the Ministry’s actions, subtly steering Harry to say what she wanted to hear.
“I’d wager a wizard happened to Apparate on Privet Drive at that exact moment, and the Trace on you mistook it for your own spellcasting—don’t worry, Harry.” She swiftly packed up her things and stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“I can tell you with absolute certainty that the Ministry has no leg to stand on in this matter. This is entirely their mistake,” Rita declared with unwavering conviction.
“Even if I were to sue the Ministry?” Harry asked curiously. “Wouldn’t the article face censorship again?”
“…Even if you sue the Ministry,” Rita gritted out, but then flashed a confident smile. “You’ll win.”
A victorious proclamation after finishing her article.
Rita looked positively itching to leave, as if she wished time would fast-forward to the next morning so she could publish this explosive news.
Harry watched as Rita hurriedly dashed out of the Potter family home. She barely made it past the garden before eagerly Apparating away from Godric’s Hollow.
The last time, under the Ministry’s interference, Rita had struggled to get her Ministry-critical article published. It was only through Lucius Malfoy’s influence that the piece finally appeared in the next day’s paper.
But this time?
Somehow, Rita had managed to convince her editor. When the sun rose the next day, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet arrived via owl, its front page dominated by a bold, eye-catching headline:
The Boy Who Lived to Be Expelled from Hogwarts?!
Rita had mastered the art of crafting irresistible headlines. No one in the British wizarding world could resist reading further after seeing it.
Perhaps many still recall the article I wrote a few weeks ago, detailing how the Ministry of Magic seized the deed to the Potter family home, leaving our Golden Boy homeless. I’m thrilled to announce to those still following this story that Harry Potter has reclaimed his home, and the Potter family residence is once again in its rightful owner’s hands.
This is, without a doubt, cause for celebration… But in my follow-up interviews, I uncovered another troubling issue plaguing the Potter heir. Thanks to my reputation for speaking truth to power, Harry chose to confide in me and seek my help… See the photograph below.
No teasing or suspenseful buildup—Rita knew that a clear-cut issue like this needed only to be presented boldly.
After a brief introduction, she included a photograph of the Ministry’s owl-delivered letter, taken at the Potter residence.
…There’s no question about it: this is a mistake. A profoundly foolish mistake. Tell me, how could a first-year wizard, who only entered the magical world last year, possibly perform Apparition during his summer holidays?
While I’m no professional Auror, even a layperson like myself can see what happened to Harry. A wizard likely Apparated in his neighborhood, and the Trace on him mistakenly registered it as his own magic.
As we all know, Hogwarts offers Apparition lessons in students’ sixth year. The course is delayed until then because Apparition is inherently dangerous, with risks like Splinching if not performed carefully.
Only by their sixth year do students possess the maturity, resolve, and control over their magic—honed over years of practice—necessary to safely attempt Apparition without catastrophic consequences.
With this in mind, let’s revisit this absurd letter. I’d like to know if Ms. Mafalda Hopkirk even read its contents before sending it. Does she realize the impact her actions could have on a young wizard?
As a Ministry employee, has Ms. Hopkirk been diligent in her duties? Is she utterly ignorant of a common spell like Apparition? I sought a more detailed interview, but regrettably, Ms. Hopkirk was uncooperative, offering only vague deflections before leaving with a distinctly unfriendly attitude…
I also spoke with Darren O’Hare, captain of the Kenmare Kestrels, the Quidditch team Harry is currently involved with. Mr. O’Hare found the situation utterly laughable… Clearly, the Ministry has failed once again…
…We must ask: how many other young wizards, unknown to us, have suffered unjustly due to the Ministry’s incompetence? Among those whose wands were snapped in the past, how many were innocent?
Like a ravenous wild dog, Rita Skeeter tore into the Ministry and Mafalda Hopkirk with ferocious abandon, openly lambasting them.
…We cannot only pay attention because this happened to the Boy Who Lived. We must also look at the smaller injustices, those affecting ordinary wizards like you and me…
…For those ordinary wizards, who have no platform to voice their grievances, what tyrannical abuses have they endured at the Ministry’s hands? I issue a call here: if you’ve experienced something similar, please write to me…
…Finally, I must solemnly inform you that Harry Potter, our Boy Who Lived, will be filing a lawsuit against the Ministry’s Improper Use of Magic Office. I have no objections to this and believe it is entirely justified.
Below are the exact words this poor boy tearfully shouted in my presence, unedited: If I made a mistake, I’d accept the punishment, but I didn’t! I don’t want to be wrongfully accused! No one does! I’m fighting for this, not to prove I’m great, but to show others that what’s right is right and won’t be twisted into wrong. Justice will prevail!!
In my view, Harry’s words echo my own sentiments…
[……]
Closing the newspaper, Harry didn’t bother reading further. Rita had reverted to her usual style—exaggerated embellishments and emotional manipulation that anyone in the know could see through.
Harry certainly didn’t recall tearfully shouting those words to her.
But overall, the effect was impressive. Rita, or rather the Daily Prophet, had struck gold. Harry could already anticipate a flood of owl-delivered letters in the coming days… perhaps even messages of concern and support from friends.
Regardless, the Boy Who Lived suing a Ministry department would be a hot topic for quite some time—and no one doubted Harry would win. As Rita pointed out, the issue was clear-cut.
For the next few days, Rita dominated the Daily Prophet’s front page, analyzing the story from every angle. Surprisingly, readers began sending her letters detailing their own grievances caused by Ministry errors, making the British wizarding world… rather lively.
Wizards, after all, had plenty of free time and little to occupy it.
Harry’s lawsuit against the Improper Use of Magic Office had been approved, with the trial set for August 24th—a Monday, the start of the workweek. The Wizengamot, the highest court in the British wizarding world, would preside… fitting, given the defendant was the Ministry itself.
The only downside was the trial’s timing. It was early July, and the summer holidays stretched ahead. Harry wondered if Ministry officials might approach him to drop the suit.
He wouldn’t agree. The Ministry’s offer to retract the punishment was meaningless now. Harry wouldn’t have escalated this to Rita Skeeter—a journalist who’d fabricate news if none existed and pursue a story relentlessly when she had one—if he were open to settling quietly.
That was Rita’s role in Harry’s eyes. Setting aside her lack of scruples, the journalist had undeniable talent. She knew exactly what readers wanted and could craft compelling articles that stirred their emotions—a skill Harry lacked.
Blacksmiths had their craft, cobblers theirs. Everyone had strengths and weaknesses. Rita was a shameless liar who twisted facts for popularity, but used correctly, even someone like her could serve a purpose.
Beyond clearing his name, this affair would give Rita the attention and persona she craved, while Harry gained the influence he needed most.
But before that, Harry had a promise to keep with Hermione. Her increasingly insistent—and increasingly ferocious—letters demanded his attention.
To avoid any “cannibalistic incidents” when school resumed, Harry contacted his other friends, arranging for them to visit Hermione’s house together.
Hermione’s parents lived up to their profession as dentists, providing her with a comfortable home. When Harry, lugging his suitcase, was Apparated by Alfred to the address Hermione had given, he immediately caught the sweet scent of flowers.
This was Hampstead Garden Suburb, a quintessential old London white-collar neighborhood and one of the affluent areas in North London. Hermione’s home was here.
No towering skyscrapers—just pastoral residential estates. Harry saw sprawling lawns and public green spaces, with each large villa boasting its own private garden. He even spotted a squirrel darting across a sycamore tree, brimming with life.
“Wait, Alfred,” Harry called to the house-elf, who was about to Apparate away. “You don’t need to tend to the old house today. You’ll likely be working in the suitcase.”
“In the suitcase?” Alfred’s eyes widened. “But if Master Harry closes the suitcase, Alfred won’t be able to appear at Master Harry’s side whenever needed!”
“It’s fine. I’m not that delicate,” Harry said with a shrug. “Hermione and the others specifically wrote to remind me to bring the suitcase. I suspect we won’t be outside much today… Hmm, you might need to prepare some snacks or something.”
Normally at the Potter residence, Harry would leave the suitcase open in a safe spot, allowing Alfred to move freely and tend to its contents.
“Understood!” Alfred perked up, brimming with enthusiasm. “Alfred will take care of Master Harry’s friends! They’ll have a wonderful time!”
With that, Alfred hopped into the open suitcase. It snapped shut automatically, the latches clicking twice before it leaped into Harry’s hand.
Following the house numbers and street signs, Harry easily found Hermione’s home—a beautiful villa surrounded by green trees and shrubs. The three-story red-brick house with a sloped gable roof was elegant and refined.
Harry rang the doorbell. Before he could even wait, the door flew open within seconds, and Hermione rushed out, as if she’d been camped by the entrance.
“Harry!!”
Thud!!
Without a word, Hermione launched herself into a forceful hug, full of momentum.
“—I read what the papers said. I can’t believe you went through that,” she said, stepping back with a worried look. “Are you okay, Harry?”
“I’m fine. The only ones in trouble now are the Ministry,” Harry said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “You didn’t actually believe what Rita wrote, did you? Me, tearfully sobbing?”
“Huh? You didn’t?” Hermione blinked, clearly thrown. “But Rita said you asked her—er, I mean, you didn’t tell her those things?”
“I did approach her, sure, but you know what Rita’s like. She clearly… embellished things when she got back to her desk,” Harry said, feeling a bit exasperated.
While using Rita to boost his influence and garner support, Harry had to endure the downsides of her fabrications. In her articles, he’d been transformed into—well, a pure, pitiful, overly innocent boy who seemed almost dim-wittedly helpless.
It was the kind of image that made people instinctively want to pity him.
Harry wasn’t worried this would derail his plans. As long as he steadily introduced his Way of the Elements and demonstrated his strength, the support he’d built would only solidify. But it was still embarrassing—especially when his friends brought it up.
“Er, really?” Hermione’s face twisted into an awkward expression. “I thought—”
“Hermione?” A woman’s exasperated voice interrupted from nearby. Harry looked over to see Mrs. Granger, whom he’d met before. “Aren’t you going to invite our guest inside?”
Hermione froze, her body tensing as she instinctively rose onto her tiptoes. She finally realized what she’d been doing, standing there in full view of her parents.
“I-I-I was just worried about you, Harry!!” Her face flushed crimson, and she stammered, “It’s all Rita’s fault! She made you sound so pitiful! I thought you’d been—been—argh!!”
Words failed her. It was rare to see Hermione so flustered she had to flail her hands to express herself, but even then, she couldn’t finish her sentence.
“I know, I know,” Harry said, forcing a serious expression to suppress a laugh. “Thanks for your concern, Hermione. Any idea when Ron and the others will get here? Shall we head inside?”
He absolutely couldn’t laugh. If he did, Hermione might whip out parchment, write her last will, and tackle him in a murderous rage.
T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
