“A letter cannot prove anything, can it?
Maybe Headmaster Dumbledore is old and muddled and wrote it by mistake.” Rita takes the envelope and checks it over carefully, thoroughly, and meticulously, ‘There is no mistake.
It is a Hogwarts acceptance letter.’
“I admit that Dumbledore is old and muddled on this point, but he cannot represent Hogwarts.
Hogwarts’ Book of Admittance absolutely never makes mistakes!” Paul pounds the table, giving Rita a fright.
“So what?
Have you seen that child?
In a place like this, even Death Eaters turn into idiots, let alone a baby.
According to my investigation, that child was hit by the Imperius Curse.” Rita questions calmly, hoping to trick more information out of Paul’s mouth.
“I…
I…” Paul is somewhat at a loss for words.
Of course he has seen that child, and he has beaten him plenty of times.
Paul’s eyes dart around.
These matters definitely cannot be told to the outside world.
Otherwise, he will not be a kindhearted Azkaban administrator, but a criminal who abuses children.
“Miss Rita, his name is Rayleigh.
I assure you, he grew up healthy in Azkaban!
His mind is normal, and he even learned to read under his mother’s teaching.”
“Rayleigh?
Mr.
Paul, I cannot exactly run a report with just a first name, can I?
You know, this is like every Tom and Dick.
If I publish it in the newspaper, it has no persuasive power at all.
You agree with this point too, don’t you?”
“Wait a moment, Miss Rita!
I, I have a personnel list.
I can find out what his surname is!
I can also prove that he is not on the prisoner list!” Paul feels somewhat panicked inside, ‘Damn little Death Eater, why has he never told me his surname!?’
He takes down a thick, dust-covered register from the bookshelf, forgetting even to use magic.
“Rayleigh, Rayleigh…
Rayleigh…” Paul flips through the register several times, his finger filtering through the names line by line, and there is not a single child named Rayleigh.
“Look, he is not there!” He smiles happily at Rita.
This proves it is unlawful imprisonment by the Ministry of Magic.
But before he can stretch his lips into a grin, Rita shoots him down with one sentence.
“Hmph, does that mean that because my name is not on it, I am also unlawfully imprisoned by the Ministry of Magic?”
“Do you not know that he was carried in by his mother?” Rita looks at Paul with disdain, ‘A fool like this deserves to stay in Azkaban for life.’
‘Stupid, impulsive, and who knows where he got the courage to try stepping on the Ministry of Magic to earn Galleons.
Maybe it is because his head is as empty as a troll’s.’
“Yes, yes, yes, Jessica!”
“Found it!
Look, Jessica Travers and Buck Travers, both Death Eaters who followed You-Know-Who.”
Rita nods, casts Scourgify, and turns the thick register around.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.
The entire Travers Family is in Azkaban.
No wonder the Ministry of Magic swore solemnly that all prisoners had been reviewed.” Rita signals her quill to start recording: The Ministry of Magic, for the sake of the Travers Family’s assets, unlawfully imprisoned the innocent heir of the Travers Family: a baby named Rayleigh.
“Miss Rita, what do you mean?”
“Hmph, use your head and think.
Most of those who followed You-Know-Who were pure-blood wizards.
Travers, have you never heard of this family?”
“Of course I know it.
One of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”
“Yes.
A magical family with thousands of years of inheritance.
That is an enormous fortune.
Back then, if Malfoy had not paid a huge compensation, do you think he could have been judged innocent?
The Ministry of Magic?
Heh heh!”
“If that is the case, then why back then did Barty Jr….”
“Barty Crouch Jr.?
Maybe because he cost his own father the position of Minister for Magic.”
“Even Muggles understand that a tiger will not eat its own cubs.
Our upright former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the honorable Barty Crouch Sr., was not even willing to spend a single Galleon.
His reputation mattered more than his son.”
What Rita is talking about is Barty Sr., the one who sent Jessica and her son to Azkaban.
Perhaps it is retribution, but his own son was also a Death Eater.
In the end, the son was sentenced to life imprisonment and likewise locked up in Azkaban.
Barty Crouch Jr., died in 1982.
“I did not expect he was already dead.
I remember Mrs.
Crouch also died in that same year.” Rita flips through the register with great interest.
On it are those names, some familiar and some strange.
She keeps flipping through the register, as if investigating secrets deeply hidden in Azkaban.
This intoxicated feeling makes Rita’s body grow slightly warm.
“Mr.
Paul, let us go see that new student from Azkaban, in the name of Headmaster Dumbledore.” Rita waves the envelope, a charming smile hanging on her face.
Her joy attracts the covetous attention of the Dementors.
Looking at the ugly, evil magical creatures around her, Rita becomes even more excited.
She has already thought of an article, and the title is [The Ministry of Magic’s Sinister Deal with the Dementors].
“Miss Rita, we should go.”
“Do not rush, Paul.” Rita is especially patient, using a camera to take all kinds of photographs of Azkaban, including Mr.
Paul, who manages this place.
“I…
I should change clothes…” Paul blushes.
To tell the truth, he has not taken a photo in more than ten years.
“The film is not quite enough.
Please forgive me.
The rest still has to be saved for Jessica and her son.” Rita puts down the camera and calmly refuses to take another photo of Paul.
“Of course, of course!” Paul hurriedly nods.
Taking two fewer photos is not important.
“The environment is too poor.
I hope you will not mind.”
“It is nothing.” Rita smiles.
This is not polite small talk.
As an illegal Animagus, as a beetle, what has she not seen?
“Strange, why is there light?” Paul sees a light shining inside the cell at the end of the corridor.
That is exactly Jessica and her son’s cell.
Rita stops him and signals him not to make a sound.
Paul frowns tightly, ‘Where did that damned little brat get a wand?
If he escapes…’ Paul’s heart sways wildly up and down in panic, and he wishes he could rush in right now.
“But, Miss Rita.
You need to know that their wands were all confiscated.
By rights, there should not be any light!”
“Perhaps it is wandless casting.”
“Impossible.
The Dementors drain their souls.
They simply cannot cast spells.”
“Shh, keep your voice down.” Rita quietly walks over and has Paul open the window on the cell door.
In the narrow, small cell, Rayleigh and his mother Jessica nestle close together.
They speak of the future and hope, and the cold, silent, dark cell is filled with warmth.
Those Dementors that hate happiness and hope come following the scent.
The faceless monsters stand in front of them, staring greedily at them.
Rayleigh holds Jessica’s hand and stands before the Dementors without any hesitation.
In front of him blooms a silvery-white light, like an unbreakable barrier that keeps the Dementors from getting close.
“Merlin!
A Patronus Charm!” Rita hurriedly picks up the camera and photographs the Dementors being driven away by the silvery-white light.
Rayleigh looks at the departing Dementors and faints in Jessica’s arms.
Jessica tightly hugs her son and, in the corner, softly sobs while humming a song.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…”
The first time she heard Rayleigh call her mother, Jessica used this song to comfort her son.
She strokes the fainted child, hoping she can still wake him.
At the door, Rita cannot help but shed tears.
She must do something for this mother and son.
“So moving!” Rita sheds tears and takes out a handkerchief to wipe the corners of her eyes.
“Who?” Jessica hears the movement outside and hides her son in her arms.
“Jessica, do not be nervous.
My name is Rita, Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet.
Can I help you?”
“Rita?”
“Yes, it is me.
You recognize this, right?
Your son’s acceptance letter.
Now, you need a report, a report that can save you and get you out.”
“I know you.” Jessica listens to Rita’s voice outside the door and falls silent.
She remembers this witch.
She is very good at using words to stir up trouble.
Jessica looks down at her thin and weak son and understands that Paul sent the letter to this woman in front of her.
He wants to leave this place, so he tramples on her son.
In the darkness, Jessica, through the damp sea fog, stares at Paul beside Rita.
“Fine, but you cannot take photos of my son.”
“Of course…” Rita feels somewhat regretful.
Just now, the light of the Patronus Charm blocked Rayleigh’s face, but there will still be chances later.