MURDER AT MALFOY MANOR!

Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent

Scandal, violence and horror rocked Wizarding Britain last night at the annual SOW Party Gala, this year held at the resplendent Malfoy Manor. Whilst the crème de la crème were dancing and socializing amongst themselves, forging connections and reinforcing social bounds, there was a sudden and vicious attack!

I was but a fly on the wall myself when the attack occurred, and as such I was able to avoid the worst of it, but what horror I witnessed! Amidst the music and the swirling dance in the center of the ballroom, the crack of Apparition rang out and a group of masked, hooded figures appeared in the room.

The central figure lowered his hood in the stunned silence that followed, revealing the same uncanny face as we saw on the Blood Tournament stage last June, for the leader of this incursion was none other than the so-called Voldemort of that event’s infamy.

“I am not here for violence,” he said in a flat, bored voice. “I seek two men. Hand me Lord Riddle, or hand me the one called Rigel—I care not which. With either or both, I shall leave you all in… peace.” At this his lip curled into a sneer. “Elsewise I will force you to produce one or the other, and you all know my methods.”

There was a horrified murmuring and muttering that ran through the crowd at that. For Rigel, of course, has not been seen since the disaster of the award ceremony last summer (SEE PAGE 4 FOR A RETROSPECTIVE), and Lord Riddle, being not yet fully recovered from it, had not attended.

Before the situation could devolve further, a slender, dark-haired figure, resplendent in green and gold silk, eyes practically glowing, stepped out of the crowd and towards the gathered enemies. This was Harriet Potter, in attendance in her capacity as Severus Snape’s new apprentice (SEE ANNOUNCEMENTS SECTION FOR FURTHER DETAILS) and she seemed far more fearless than most of the adult witches and wizards present, in spite of her youth. One might suppose that her involvement in the Rigel Black Scandal has somewhat inured her to such emotions.

To Voldemort she said: “I might be able to help. But you must promise that once you’ve found your quarry you will leave all of us here in peace. You must swear it on your magic and your life.”

At this Voldemort ground his teeth, and cast a spell at her, and so their duel began—who knew that the Potter Heiress was such a glorious duelist! After the revelation of the Rigel Black Scandal, the real Arcturus Rigel Black proved to be quite a disappointment in that regard, but I imagine that the Potter Heiress could have challenged the RBC himself, such skill did she display last night.

Voldemort’s lackeys simply watched as their master dueled. Perhaps they thought it would wound his pride to have them assist him in public. Perhaps they were ordered to steer clear of duels. This reporter is, tragically, lacking an inside source at the moment and cannot say for sure (ANONYMOUS OR SIGNED TIPS CAN BE SENT TO RITA SKEETER, C/O THE DAILY PROPHET MAIN OFFICE. ALL REQUESTS FOR CONFIDENTIALITY WILL BE HONORED TO THE BEST OF THE PAPER’S ABILITIES.).

The duel between Voldemort and the Heiress Potter ended in a draw, with neither a clear victor. Voldemort gave a long, wary glance about the room, full of adult wizards armed with their wands, and at his own, smaller group.

“If you give me the precise location of either Lord Riddle or the Rigel Black Child,” he spat, “then I swear on my magic and my life that I will leave your party and all its attendees in peace for tonight.”

Then Harriet Potter smiled coyly, eyes glittering coldly, sparkling green as a fresh-pickled toad. “Follow me,” she said, and left the ballroom in the direction of the library. Voldemort stalked after her, head held high, and the crowds parted before him like the sea drawing back.

Part of what happened next is widely known. The partygoers remained in the ballroom, as did Voldemort’s lackeys, an uneasy truce settling between them. Fifteen minutes later, the Potter Heiress returned alone, dark crimson staining her robes, half her buttons open, cheeks flushed and bruises starting to form on her pale neck, eyes bright. A great murmur ran through the crowd at such a scandalous appearance, and that was before she spoke!

“He’s dead,” said Harriet Potter. “Sorry about the mess.”

And indeed, when the Lords Malfoy and Black went back towards the library they found Voldemort lying there dead, skin split open over his neck and chest, in a small portraitless guest room near the library.

(The lackeys were not particularly skilled, and with the threat of their leader gone were swiftly rounded up by the wizards in attendance and the Aurors, who had by that point shown up.)

That night and this morning there has been much stir, many theories about what happened—did Miss Potter seduce Voldemort then and there, only to kill him? Did he attack her and break his vow? Was she secretly his lover the whole time, or a victim trying to escape him?—but as Miss Potter herself has been very quiet on the matter (she was briefly detained but released into Lord Potter her father’s custody, pending the investigation) none have been accurate, until now. For this reporter’s contacts and investigative methods have revealed the truth of the matter!

Miss Potter led Voldemort back to the bedroom in which he later was found dead and led him to the bed, bringing his guard down.

“You’re a difficult man to find,” she told him.

“You’re a difficult woman to catch,” he said, sneering at her. “My vow is contingent upon your information. And I will know if you lie.”

“Oh, I know,” said Miss Potter, and then she gave him a cryptic smile. “Come closer.”

The words she whispered in Voldemort’s ear with her hands curled around his waist were too quiet even for this reporter’s informants to fully hear, but they were enough to enrage him, and they must have contained a location he believed to belong to the RBC.

He shoved Miss Potter away from him, seized her by the throat.

“You lie!” he said as Potter laughed weakly.

“It’s true,” she said. “Look at yourself.”

Voldemort looked down at his hands, then recoiled from her; the flesh where he’d held her was blistered and burned.

“You can’t be,” he said, furious, seething.

“But I am.” She remained calm.

He did not speak again; instead he attacked her with a wordless slashing spell. The Potter Heiress raised a startled hand and around her sprung up a wandless Despaco shield!

Perhaps she need not even have bothered. As soon as Voldemort’s spell sank into her shield, deep gouges appeared on his own body; he went pale and shaky, and tried to cast another spell but could not—the Potter Heiress slowly shook her head.
“You forgot your oath,” she said, then pushed him onto the bed; she watched dispassionately as his magic and life together deserted him, then returned to the ballroom to announce his passing.

A bit cold, perhaps, but not necessarily unwarranted—after all, the spell was meant for her, not him.

But what did she tell him that made him forget himself? What could she have said? Her voice was so quiet when she spoke, but this reporter’s informants heard enough to piece things together.

The reason Harriet Potter cares so much for the Rigel Black Child, the reason she was so willing to use herself as bait to defend him even in his absence, the reason she didn’t care as Voldemort died in front of her after threatening the RBC, is as follows:

Harriet Potter and the Rigel Black Child, it is my delight to exclusively reveal to you… are married!