Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

Rita's eyes darted nervously around the room, her gaze finally settling on Bryan's blank face. She tried to mask her growing unease with a smile that was meant to be curious but came across as forced and slightly agitated. The corners of her mouth twitched involuntarily, showing her inner turmoil.

"Oh, you've brought me some big news, have you?" she said, her voice quavering slightly despite her best efforts to maintain her usual breezy tone.

The tingling sensation that had begun at her scalp was now spreading down her neck, and she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs like a caged animal seeking escape.

After a series of events, Bryan Watson's reputation had become surprisingly good. He was now hailed as a hero by the vast majority of the Wizarding community. His timely intervention during the chaotic night of the Quidditch World Cup final had potentially saved multiple Wizarding nations around the globe from destruction. The wizarding world was overflowing with gratitude, singing praises of Watson's bravery and prowess.

However, as is often the case with sudden fame and adoration, there were also dissenting voices amidst the chorus of approvals. These voices, though fewer in number, were no less passionate in their skepticism and criticism.

Rita, being a well-informed reporter with her finger on the pulse of the Wizarding world's gossip, had heard many of these unfavorable opinions. Some of them, she had to admit, weren't entirely without merit.

She glanced at Watson probingly, her magnified eyes searching for any crack in his composed face. But the man before her remained as calm as a statue, his piercing gaze focused upon her with an intensity that made her want to squirm in her seat.

Left with no other choice, Rita reached out with fingers that trembled slightly, picking up the parchment that lay on the table between them. Her plump fingers deftly unfolded the letter and she adjusted her bejeweled spectacles, pushing them further up her nose and leaned in closer to scrutinize the unusually long document.

As her eyes skimmed over the parchment, familiar names began to jump out at her. These weren't just any names – they were the names of some of the most powerful and influential figures in the wizarding world. Ministers, department heads, prominent purebloods, and even a few names she recognized from international magical communities.

"Oh, Merlin's beard!" The exclamation burst from her lips before she could stop it.

Rita, who had been lazing in her chair with an air of casual indifference, suddenly sat upright. With her thick finger, she traced a path from the top of the parchment to the bottom, her crimson-painted lips moving silently as she mouthed the names and the damning information listed beside them.

The details were staggering. Bribes accepted, laws circumvented, dark artifacts smuggled, and galleons upon galleons of ill-gotten gains carefully catalogued. It was a laundry list of corruption that reached to the very highest echelons of British Ministry. Rita's mind whirled as she tried to process the horror of what she was reading.

Bryan observed Rita's reaction with great interest. To be honest, he was somewhat surprised by what he saw. He had expected Rita Skeeter, as the notorious gossip-monger and scandal-breaker, to tremble with excitement upon seeing this list.

But as the minutes ticked by, marked by the steady ticking of the old clock on the wall, Rita's eyebrows arched higher and higher, her lips were pressed together so tightly that they almost disappeared, leaving only a thin line of color and her hands began to shake visibly. But according to Bryan's judgment this wasn't necessarily due to excitement.

The cheap bronze candlestick on the table, its surface dulled by years of use and neglect, supported several stubby candles. They emitted a dim, yellowish light that cast long shadows across the room. Occasionally, bright sparks would leap from the steady flames, dancing in the air for a brief moment before vanishing into nothingness.

Rita's gaze darted back and forth across the names on the parchment, her eyes moving with the rapidity of a Seeker tracking a particularly elusive Snitch. She read each line with painstaking care, as if trying to engrave the information permanently into her brain.

It wasn't until Bryan had leisurely finished two full glasses of sherry that she finally lowered the parchment from her eyes. Her face, usually covered with a thick layer of powder had now truly turned pale.

"I can't believe it, Watson," Rita finally spoke.

The exaggerated, almost theatrical tone that was her trademark had vanished entirely. What remained was a voice that seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of her throat, raw but less nauseating.

Rita's fingers clutched at a corner of the parchment so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.

"This thing," she continued, her words emerging through gritted teeth, "could bring down the entire Ministry of Magic!"

Bryan's response was not what Rita expected. Instead of the grim nod or triumphant smirk she had anticipated, he just shook his head with a soft chuckle.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, his tone light and almost playful. "As one of the most famous current affairs reporters for the Daily Prophet, I thought you'd seen more of the world, Rita. But your reaction truly disappoints me."

His words stung Rita's professional pride, cutting through her shock and reigniting some of her usual fire. Her eyes, magnified to an almost comical degree by her bejeweled spectacles, narrowed as she glared at the man sitting opposite her. For a moment, the fear in her gaze was obscured by a flash of something that bordered on hatred.

"What do you want to do, Watson?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly in pitch. "Do you want me to expose this? To plaster it all over the front page of the Daily Prophet for everyone to see?"

Bryan's amusement seemed to grow with each passing moment. He leaned back in his chair, observing the bristling Rita Skeeter with undisguised interest. When he spoke, his voice was casual, almost careless, as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather.

"What if I do?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in mock innocence.

For a brief, wild moment, Rita Skeeter felt an overwhelming urge to grab her crocodile-skin handbag and flee the room. Her fight-or-flight instinct was screaming at her to run, to put as much distance as possible between herself and this dangerous man with his even more dangerous document.

But the cold reality quickly reasserted itself. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her to her core, that without Watson's permission, she could never leave this room. Not especially now that she had seen such a potentially deadly document.

Of course, Rita didn't think Watson would kill her right now – there were far too many witnesses who had seen her enter his private room. It would be impossible to contain. But she had no doubt that he possessed ways to ensure her silence. Perhaps a carefully arranged accident after she left the Leaky Cauldron, or a sudden, inexplicable loss of memory that would leave her unable to recall anything of importance.

Bryan Watson was no paragon of virtue like Dumbledore. Anyone who knew even a little about Watson was well aware of this fact.

"Oh, why don't you just tell the Ministry that I'm an illegal Animagus, Watson!" Rita finally burst out, her carefully manicured nails digging into the palms of her hands. Her eyes were cold, empty of their usual mischievous glint. "Maybe I'll be lucky, and those disgusting Dementors won't completely scramble my brain in Azkaban. Then, after I'm released, I might still be able to eke out the rest of my days with whatever gold I've managed to squirrel away."

She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "But if I put this... this bombshell in the newspaper..." Rita's voice trailed off, and she shook her head vehemently. "Oh, forgive my frankness, Watson, but I don't think this could ever see the light of day. And if I were to insist on publishing it anyway?" A bitter laugh came from her lips. "Well, I suppose my dream of writing that tell-all biography of Albus Dumbledore would have to remain just that – a dream. Assuming, of course, that I lived long enough to regret my decision."

Looking at the enraged Rita, Bryan chuckled, "You're much smarter than I imagined, Rita,"

The compliment, however, did nothing to improve Rita's mood. If anything, it seemed to fan the flames of her anger. She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. The candlelight flickered, reflected in her eyes, which burned with a combination of fear and fury. It was clear that she resented being dragged into what she perceived as a deadly, troublesome affair.

"Maybe you want to seize power for yourself, Watson," She spat, her words dripping with venom. "Perhaps you're aiming to replace Cornelius Fudge as the Minister of Magic. But don't you dare try to drag me down with this... this political dynamite!" Rita's chest heaved as she fought to control her breathing. After a few moments, she continued, her voice laced with bitterness.

"I know those politicians' true faces better than you do, Watson. I've seen behind their masks, witnessed their true natures. I know exactly where their bottom line is." Her lips curled into a sneer. "They might not mind me occasionally publishing news that embarrasses them – it keeps the masses entertained, after all. But if it truly threatens their positions of power?"

She shook her head emphatically. "They won't hesitate for a second. They'll trample all over the very laws they themselves made, without a shred of remorse."

Bryan listened to Rita's emotional speech with an expression of interest, as if he were attending a mildly entertaining lecture. When she finished, he slowly brought his hands together in a leisurely applause.

"A wise observation, indeed," He said, his tone genuinely admiring. "You've clearly learned much during your years of... shall we say, investigative reporting." He gestured towards Rita's chair. "But please, sit down. I haven't finished speaking, have I?"

Rita hesitated for a long moment, visibly torn between her desire to maintain her stance and her curiosity about what Watson might say next. Finally, practicality won out over pride, and she lowered herself back into her seat.

It wasn't just because she couldn't resist Bryan Watson's command – though that certainly played a part – but also because she wanted to see what game Watson was playing. In her years as a reporter, Rita had developed a nose for stories, and right now, every instinct she possessed was telling her that there was more to this situation than met the eye.

"You've probably read this list thoroughly by now," Bryan began, "Later, you can copy part of it to take back with you. Tomorrow morning, I'll go to the Ministry to meet with Fudge. At that time, I'll inform him that you have such a list in your possession and are preparing to publish it in the Daily Prophet."

Rita's eyes widened in alarm, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Bryan held up a hand to silence her. "Don't get excited, listen to me," he said firmly. "This matter is of great importance, and it's entirely predictable that Fudge will personally negotiate with you, trying his utmost to persuade you not to publish this information. You can follow his instructions and agree not to publish the contents of the parchment."

Bryan spread his hands in a gesture of nonchalance, indicating he had finished speaking.

Rita stared at him, her mouth hanging open in surprise. "Just like that?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"Of course," Bryan replied smoothly, "you can also negotiate terms with Fudge. Perhaps secure some privileges for yourself, or a generous number of galleons. You're a very experienced person, Rita, with an excellent sense of how far you can push things. I'm sure you know exactly where the limit lies." He paused, his expression growing serious. "There is, however, one thing I must remind you: Fudge will almost certainly ask if I gave you this list. When that happens, you must unwaveringly maintain your story. If he presses you on where you obtained this information..."

Bryan's lips curved into a small smile. "Well, you're exceptionally skilled at crafting convincing narratives, Rita. I have every confidence that you can provide our esteemed Minister of Magic with an answer that will satisfy his curiosity without revealing the truth."

Rita slowly closed her mouth, her green eyes sparkling with a mixture of wariness and understanding. She had already begun to sense that Bryan Watson's intentions were more complex than they initially appeared. It seemed unlikely that he truly meant to use this list to bring down the Ministry, nor did he appear to want to back her into a corner from which there was no escape. Of course, she realized, he was indeed using her – but for some other, as yet unspeakable purpose.

Before she could voice any of the questions swirling in her mind, Bryan spoke again. This time, his voice carried the unmistakable weight of authority, reminding Rita forcefully of exactly who she was dealing with. "Control your curiosity, Rita," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Rita's breath caught in her throat, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to process everything she had heard. After a moment, she managed to speak, her voice wavering slightly. "You're asking for my help, aren't you, Watson? But why... why should I help you?"

Bryan's response was calm and leisurely. "Isn't this arrangement beneficial for you as well?" he asked rhetorically. "As long as you don't insist on publishing the list and make some kind of promise to Fudge – the specifics of which I'll leave to your will – I don't believe he'll take any drastic action against you. And you'll indeed be holding onto a significant weakness of the Ministry of Magic. If something troublesome were to happen to you in the future, you might find this information to be a rather effective... insurance policy, shall we say?"

Rita raised her eyebrows, momentarily rendered speechless by Watson's words.

"Well then, that's it—" Bryan's voice cut through her whirling thoughts, startling her back to the present moment. He didn't wait for Rita to give a clear response, seemingly content with her silent contemplation. With a casual air that opposed the seriousness of their conversation, he picked up his glass with some drink left and drained it in one gulp, letting out a contented sigh. "Good night, Ms. Rita Skeeter—"

Before Rita could voice a response, Bryan had already risen from his chair. He covered the short distance to the door in two long strides. His hand was on the doorknob, ready to turn it and step out into the corridor of the Leaky Cauldron.

The abruptness of his departure jolted Rita into action. Just as Bryan was about to step through the crack of the now-open door, she found her voice.

"Wait, Watson!" The words burst from her lips with urgency.

Bryan paused, his hand still on the doorknob, and turned slightly to face her.

Rita stared at him, her gaze wary and searching. After hesitating for a moment, she said dryly. "You surprise me too, Watson, with your power, your influence... no matter what you want to do, Fudge can't truly stop you. He wouldn't dare."

She paused, moistening her lips nervously before continuing. "But you're going to such lengths—I mean, this list..." Her eyes flicked to the parchment still lying on the table, its contents now burned into her memory. "It certainly wasn't easy to obtain, was it? The risk, the time it must have taken..."

She left the question unspoken, but it hung in the air between them: Why? Why go through all this trouble when he could simply act directly?

A soft chuckle escaped Bryan's lips, barely audible in the quiet room. He turned his head, preparing to leave, but his voice carried clearly over his shoulder, penetrating the heavy wooden door panel to reach Rita's ears.

"I'm not the Dark Lord, Rita—"

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