WHO: Betty Braithwaite WHEN: Evening, 17th November WHERE: Diagon Alley SUMMARY: The good news is that Betty won't literally trample on the Wandless to further her career. (Article to be posted soonish.) WARNINGS: None
It had been quite the day for Elizabeth Braithwaite. Not always eventful, but certainly notable. Fridays she’d usually skip the gym session in favour of a little extra sleep, except this Friday she hadn’t lingered. There was something of a get-up and go feeling about her as she went to work, and she hadn’t really lacked in energy before she was asked to look into something in Diagon Alley. She’d pocketed her notebook quickly, wound a scarf around her neck and headed out of the Daily Prophet office without having to be asked twice.
It was always these types of assignments where Betty was given pause. In truth, she didn’t care for the hysterical stories she’d been working on. Writing about how the Death Eaters in charge were just concerned citizens had almost turned into a game for Betty. Five points if she got a good quote from a purist snob. Ten if she could work a previously convicted Death Eater into whatever outrage piece she was working on. Bonus point if she thought she was more convincing than the time she’d profiled Rita Skeeter and actually been restrained about it. She didn’t count, but if points were money then she’d surely require a more sizeable vault in Gringotts. But they weren’t, and keeping her job was money for now. It kept her in rent, nice clothes, food - the lifestyle that she liked. Where she could share a glass of wine with her best friend without feeling guilty for what she had - even if she should count her blessings when she was experiencing them. But it was these moments, when she knew she’d be expected to vilify those in need, that she would hesitate.
“Do you think the Ministry should have a tough stance on dealing with wand theft and those convicted of such crimes?”
Because some part of Betty didn’t agree. Maybe she couldn’t voice it, maybe she was too scared or too convinced of her own self to admit that what she was doing was wrong. Was it a game too? She wasn’t hurting them, forcing them out of their homes. Perpetuating the views of her employer was harmless. Narcissa Malfoy wouldn’t even think of firing her. It was just an article.
“And how do you feel about the threat posed by these people living out here in the street?”
Betty could see the hesitation from some but enough of the people she spoke to gave her the angry outrage that made headlines. The poor victim of the assault had been giving Betty some fantastic lines, something that Betty made sure to note for future use even if she couldn’t find a way to fit them all amongst her piece. There was a section of her trusty notebook where she was starting to list people who’d make for a good quote. Peony Parkinson’s name was added, underlined twice.
“Do you feel the Ministry should tighten security in Diagon Alley?”
It was so easy to feed lines to some people.
Clasping her coffee cup tightly enough that the cardboard buckled under the pressure a little, she thanked the last witness she’d been listening to and picked up her bag. A strained smile about her lips, Betty took a last glimpse up at the dim light of the street lamps.
It was just an article. Her words, her job. She was going to have to stand by them eventually. Morals and doubts would just have to wait.
Focused firmly on the pavement directly below her feet, she was careful to skirt around the cluster of Wandless on her way back towards the Leaky Cauldron. Betty had enough guilt that she wouldn’t actually step on those people to get where she was going.