Chapter Text
Cassiopeia slowed her purposeful stride to the Owl office as soon as it came to view. Right next to the postal service sat the building of the Daily Prophet.
The Daily Prophet was the only news outlet left and its office building was fittingly big and pompous. The white walls had ink-black lines drawn horizontally across. The front of the ground floor was covered in letters, their negatives from the printing press aligned like a decorative strip at the top edge.
She came to a stop.
What was her goal, being here? Yes, she wanted to cause uproar in her family. She wanted to have a fun duelling tournament. She wanted to tell men how incompetent they were. She wanted to regain some respect for her family. She wanted the wixen of Britain to know not to disrespect the Blacks. She wanted them to know that it was a horrid mistake to throw a member of her family in Azkaban without a trial. She wanted justice for Sirius.
Morgana, she was hanging out with too many people who had morals, they must have rubbed off on her. Disgusting.
Cassiopeia sighed. One of those big, heaving sighs that jostled your entire body. It seems she was going to deal with a reporter tonight.
Nicolas and Perenelle seemed quite sure they’d fetch Sirius tomorrow. She didn’t know what time. What she did know was that the mills of bureaucracy were slow. Even if she made her accusations now, they’d be in the morning paper. The wixen at the ministry would run around like a bunch of headless chickens until lunch hour. With some food in their body they’d start thinking. They’d try to find the guilty party, because it was always good to know who to blame before you ascertain whether there was something to blame them for in politics, after all. Then they’d check for the records. They’d never go to fetch Sirius the same day.
With a mental prayer to Charis to forgive her for the unannounced meddling in her son’s career (Though she didn’t much care for Bartimaeus Sr. if he conducted himself so bigoted as he’d shown against his mother’s family), Cassiopeia neared the door to the Daily Prophet back to her purposeful stride. The black skirts of her long dress swished at the movement. She used her wand to blast the doors open gently but with enough force to bang in the hinges.
Some witch squeaked at the sound. A security wizard rose, pointing his wand at her. Cassiopeia stood with her hands in her hips just inside the door, raising an eyebrow at the wizard.
“I’d like to speak with a competent reporter, please. I have family business to air.”
There was a beat of silence. The guard lowered his wand but remained standing.
Someone cleared their throat. “Who are you to assume we care for whatever family business you have, witch?”
“Not you, then, idiot.”
Cassiopeia stood, waiting.
A witch rose up at the side. Her ugly glasses made Cassiopeia unable to describe any of her other features. Either a lack of style, or a clever disguise.
“I’d be interested, if you’d like to follow me to a conference room, madam.”
Cassiopeia surveyed the room. Hm. It seems she was going to be disappointed. Or her family had truly reached a level of meaninglessness these few scribes didn’t recognise her features.
She followed the woman. The conference room was as pompous as the building in general, but the reporter at leased transformed two chairs into comfortable armchairs.
“Tea?”, she asked, sitting down and rustling with a notepad and a pink quill.
The woman seemed very young, but her gaze was hungry when she took Cassiopeia in.
“You are a Black!” She gasped.
“Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I’d feared, then”, Cassiopeia nodded, “I’d like a glass of red wine, if you have that.”
The reporter gulped, but a glass of wine appeared at the table nonetheless.
“To answer your unworded question: I am Cassiopeia Black, visiting my homeland for a friendly duelling tournament in March and to make the Ministry regret their incompetence concerning my family.”
The reporter was openly gaping at her now. It was really quite unbecoming.
“Usually now, you’d introduce yourself, girl! Is this your first interview, or are you just too slow to process what I said?”
That seemed to shake her out of her stupor. Internally, Cassiopeia sighed – again – it seemed she’d have to do most of the work here. How tedious.
“I’m sorry, Madam Black. It is just more than I expected. Um. My name is Rita Skeeter. It is nice to make your acquaintance.” She extended her hand to shake, but Cassiopeia just stared her down.
“You still have a lot to learn, Miss Skeeter. Now let’s see if you at least deserve the title of reporter”, she paused for dramatic effect, but continued before the girl could speak. “As you know, I have two relatives currently in Azkaban. But for some reason only one of them got a trial. And it is not the sweet, Gryffindor boy who ran away from my family and was all but adopted by the Potters, caught when trying to avenge the betrayal of his brother, James Potter. No, only my completely deranged, batshit-crazy, well-known for her violence and devotion to Voldemort, great-niece though, she got a trial. I want you to ask why. Why did Sirius Black not receive due process?”
“Because everyone knows he is guilty!” The girl exclaimed.
Cassiopeia exploded. “Do you even hear what you are saying, girl?”
She was met with silence.
The seconds ticked by. Cassiopeia began tapping her foot in an obvious sign to the girl that she should think faster. When focus came back in her eyes, Cassiopeia continued.
“I want you to write an article in tomorrow’s paper, telling everyone that I came to Britain to demand a trial for Sirius Black, because I think my Cousin is absolutely asinine in his inaction. Because if, and only if, Sirius is actually guilty of what everyone thinks he did, I want him to be put in the stand and properly judged, as every being should be held accountable for their crimes equally.”
Cassiopeia rose. “If you can’t manage this, your career will end before it starts, Miss Skeeter. Goodbye.”
As she left, Cassiopeia couldn’t help a satisfied smirk. She forgot how much she enjoyed threatening other people.
Ahh, bugger it. She’d have to thank the Flamels for dragging her into this.