I was called in for the "wand weighing" before my Potions class.
In the room where I had been summoned, Mr. Bagman was seated, and I could also see the other champions. Harry was irritably answering an interview with the reporter Rita Skeeter, who was dressed in deep reddish-purple robes. Krum, as usual, sat silently in a corner with a sullen expression, while Fleur chatted cheerfully with Cedric.
According to Mr. Bagman, the reason we had been called was to check whether there were any problems with our wands before we tackled the tasks ahead.
" I don't have tears in my eyes!"
Startled by the sudden shout, I turned to see Harry, his face bright red, glaring at Skeeter. As if declaring the interview over, he kicked his chair back and forcibly cut it short.
"Um…"
In the awkward silence, Mr. Bagman gave a strained smile as if to smooth things over, then turned his gaze to me.
"Well then, that's all for Harry's interview. Next up is Elaina, your turn. Allow me to introduce Rita Skeeter."
It had been a while since I'd last seen Skeeter, but she looked exactly the same as ever. Her tightly styled, meticulously set curls of blonde hair clashed oddly with her angular jawline, and she was dressed in a gaudy display of nouveau-riche taste, complete with jewel-rimmed glasses and a crocodile-skin handbag.
"Elaina, it's been a while," she said.
"Yes. Thank you again for covering the story about the polyhedral mirror the other day."
The article about three beautiful inventors improving a two-way mirror and launching a business had been published under the title From the Garage to Diagon, thanks to Skeeter's reporting, and it had provided a decent amount of publicity.
That said, the previous interview had been handled smoothly by my seniors, so this was actually my first time being interviewed directly by Rita herself.
"Now then, let's get right into the interview."
With that, Rita took out her Self-Writing Quill QQQ and began speaking.
"So, Elaina, how do you feel about competing in the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Um…"
As I started to answer, my attention was drawn to the quill. Even though I hadn't said anything yet, the yellow-green quill began scribbling furiously on its own.
'All I want is the championship cup, isn't that right?'
"Elaina, don't worry about the quill," Rita said.
No, no, no.
"What do you think about the upcoming tasks? Excited? Or scared?"
"I am naturally a bit anxious, but since I'm doing this, I intend to do my very best."
Once again, the quill raced across the parchment, and when it stopped, a new sentence had appeared.
'Easy win. I don't feel like I can lose. And this is my home turf, Britain.'
Harry and Cedric are locals too, you know…
"Most of the other champions are older than you. Doesn't that scare you at all?"
"Well…"
Even while I was still thinking of how to respond, the quill zipped back and forth over the parchment with a faint whistling sound, skating across it as it hurriedly wrote.
'They don't even register. I'm the strongest of the five champions. From here on, it's three straight victories.'
And so, in Rita's hands, one unshakably sensational article after another was being written.
When I judged the timing to be about right, I asked her a question of my own.
"Um… does this interview actually have any meaning?"
Unfortunately, reporting often ends up mixed with a reporter's personal perspective, no matter how careful they try to be. Some see a glass as half full, others as half empty, and since reporters are human, a certain amount of individuality inevitably shows through.
That said, there are limits.
"Even selectively quoting my statements would be one thing, but outright fabricating what I said seems a bit much…"
"But the readers love it," Rita replied.
She spoke while occasionally stopping the quill to make small corrections.
"My articles and books sell because there are customers who buy them. And so, for my customers, I write exciting articles that they'll enjoy."
"So basically, as long as it sells, anything goes?"
"Exactly. We should all be grateful for freedom of expression."
Rita let out a sly chuckle, her grin distinctly unpleasant.
"Sales never lie. In the end, it's each individual customer who decides whether to buy or not, right?"
"So if you don't want to read it, you just shouldn't buy the Daily Prophet?"
At my words, Rita nodded.
"Not once have I ever forced readers to buy my articles. If my articles are read and the Daily Prophet sells, it's because there are readers who choose to buy and read it."
In other words, reporting was, at its core, just another business. Where there is demand, there is supply, and as long as Rita isn't forcing unsellable goods onto customers, what people choose to buy or sell is ultimately their own freedom.
"If you think my articles are wrong, then write a rebuttal. Which truth to believe is up to the customers."
"There's also something called journalistic ethics, you know?"
At that, Rita snorted.
"And who exactly gets to decide what that so-called 'ethical correctness' is? Fudge? Dumbledore? Or perhaps you yourself, young lady?"
Rita spoke smugly, clearly pleased with herself.
"Or should we pass laws like an 'Anti-False-Reporting Act' or a 'Biased Reporting Regulation Act,' and have the Ministry set up a 'Central Ethics Committee' or a 'Magical Morality Police' to censor everything?"
"That would start sounding like the basic recipe for a textbook dystopia…"
Indeed, regulation is a difficult thing. Even if it begins as well-intentioned oversight, it often ends up mutating into oppression far removed from its original ideals. It can be used to protect someone's interests, or to suppress a particular group.
"Readers buy the articles they want to buy. I write the articles I want to write and sell them. In the countless acts of buying and selling, the articles that don't sell disappear, and only the ones that do remain, leaving everyone satisfied. That's just how the business world works, right?"
"It's a rather shamelessly unapologetic way of thinking, but… logically speaking, I can understand it."
That doesn't mean I can wholeheartedly agree with it, though.
Of course, Rita's belief that what sells must be right has its own logic. But there are also situations where people buy something simply because they have no alternative. In the much larger American magical world, there are apparently three nationwide newspapers. In Britain's magical community, however, when it comes to national papers, the Daily Prophet is pretty much the only one. In that case, whether they like it or not, people have little choice but to buy it to gather information.
At least, under the current circumstances.
Suddenly, I recalled something Rita had said earlier.
'If you think my articles are wrong, then write a rebuttal.'
The Daily Prophet may be the only nationwide paper in the British magical world, but it's not as though there are no minor newspapers at all. And since the Daily Prophet isn't legally protected, if you don't like the existing media, there's always the option of starting a new one.
(Fortunately, I do have a lead…)
It might be interesting to encourage Professor Lockhart, who had already founded a publishing company, to enter the field. And if GM, the company my seniors belong to, could develop a media service to replace newspapers, it might even end up padding the pockets of its shareholder, namely me.
"Are you… thinking about something nasty?"
"No, no. Nothing on your level, Rita."
Putting on a composed expression, I shrugged lightly.
"I was just thinking that writing and selling an article criticizing you might be quite profitable in its own way."
For a moment, Rita looked taken aback. Then she broke into a broad, knowing grin.
"That does sound interesting… If it's a battle of the pen, I'll take you on anytime."
"You seem very confident. Don't you ever worry that your position might be at risk?"
"Not at all. The more things go up in flames, the better newspapers sell, don't they?"
"I see."
Indeed, people are creatures who crave stimulation. The more extreme something becomes, the more criticism and slander it attracts, the more it turns into a hot topic, and the more people rush to buy it.
Infamy truly does trump obscurity.
It is the kind of thinking that a Slytherin, willing to use any means to achieve their ends, might find understandable. For a justice-driven Gryffindor, however, it would likely inspire strong disgust. Some people would surely be offended by an attitude that does anything for the sake of sales.
"Rita, you do understand that the anger you stir up in people could one day be directed at you personally, right? And you still write articles like this."
Her style as a journalist is to fabricate facts for the sake of sales, provoke people, draw attention, and boost circulation.
But a fire strong enough to capture the attention of the masses may eventually grow beyond the control of even the one who lit it. Naturally, that means there is always the risk of being burned by the very flames you started.
Rita raised her sharply penciled eyebrows and replied,
"Of course."
Otherwise, she would have quit being a newspaper reporter long ago.
"I work as a journalist for a living. No matter how much you want to convey the truth as it is, if what you write doesn't sell, you're just a freeloader. You're still a student, so you might not understand yet, but in the working world, results are everything."
There was a cool detachment to her words, as if she had reached some sort of realization, like someone recalling a distant past. And yet, the firmness with which she spoke carried emotions that felt anything but detached.
Before I realized it, a simple question slipped out of my mouth.
"So… did articles that reported the truth as it was not sell?"
At my question, Rita stopped her quill, turned to face me, and said,
"If that kind of world existed, newspaper reporters would practically be out of business. Readers in such a world would probably be reading rigorously fact-checked, peer-reviewed academic papers instead of newspapers, wouldn't they?"
Since that was not the case, she continued, it meant that what people sought was not necessarily the unvarnished truth.
"Anyone who pays to read something naturally wants a truth that's convenient for them. For example, what Gryffindor wants are articles praising Dumbledore, while what Slytherin wants are articles criticizing him. I simply provide the article that's most popular and most likely to sell."
Rita set her quill racing once more.
"If I write badly about Dumbledore, calling him an 'outdated relic,' there are people who will happily buy it. They enjoy reading the paper and feel satisfied paying their subscription. That allows the Daily Prophet to pay the salaries that keep reporters like me fed, and on payday, I get to enjoy a good drink at my favorite bar. That's how the world goes round."
"One day, you might get stabbed in the back by Headmaster Dumbledore, you know?"
"Then that would be the top headline the very next day!"
Rita burst out laughing cheerfully. When she says it so boldly, it is almost refreshing.
"You really are chasing short-term sales with everything you've got…"
"If you put your all into the work right in front of you, the results will follow later."
"If you isolate just that part, it sounds like some genuinely helpful advice."
"Doesn't it?"
It seemed she had finally finished writing. Rita stopped her quill, carefully folded the interview article, placed it into her bag as if it were something precious, and snapped the clasp shut.
"The key to writing a good article isn't fighting against the current, but riding it skillfully."
With a daring smile, Rita said this to me.
"If you go against the flow, you drown. If you ride it well, you can get ahead faster. Sometimes a lie is a useful expedient. That's advice from a dirty adult who's had to survive in a harsh world."
Rita gave a soft chuckle. The face she wore then was not that of someone pure and clean, but of an adult who had clawed their way up through the messy realities of society, stubborn and cunning.
"…I'll remember that."
Whether her advice will prove useful someday, or whether it would be better if it never had to be, I still don't know.
It just felt a little too weighty to brush off lightly.
"I had fun talking today!"
And with that, the interview came to an end. I was told that in a day or two, the Daily Prophet would publish its official announcement based on this interview.
＊＊＊
After Rita's interview concluded, wand weighing was carried out for each champion by the wandmaker, old Mr. Ollivander.
"Now then, Miss Celestia. Would you please come forward?"
Mr. Ollivander immediately took the wand from the holster at his waist and examined it closely.
"Oh my, this is the very wand you first purchased from my shop, is it not? Alder wood with a dragon heartstring core, thirty-two centimeters, ideal for nonverbal spells. It's in excellent condition. You've taken very good care of it."
"Yes. I believe steady, everyday effort is important in all things."
Seeing my wand polished to a gleam, Harry hastily began rubbing his own, which was grimy with fingerprints, against his robe. Perhaps because of his usual habits, golden sparks started crackling out of the tip, and Fleur narrowed her eyes at him with a look that said, "Still such a child," leaving his face bright red.
After finishing his inspection, Mr. Ollivander declared my wand to be "in perfect condition."
The wand weighing then continued with Fleur, Cedric, Krum, and Harry. Finally, we all took a commemorative photograph, bringing the wand weighing to an end.
The real problem came later, on the day when the champions were featured in the Daily Prophet.
(End of chapter)
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