Work Text:
Rita Skeeter was regretting her choice to run the series of articles libelling the Granger girl for necromancy. She had not counted on the Black brothers the girl somehow returned to life to be as ruthless and cruel as Rita had heard previous generations of Blacks to be.
She had miscalculated enormously.
The eldest brother, the Gryffindor, had trapped her in her Animagus form. Now as a little green beetle, she flittered back and forth from under a piece of bark and a pile of leaves, hiding. It was the younger brother, Regulus, who had suggested leaving her wandless in the middle of a forest as dusk was falling. She had thought it would be a simple thing to just fly out until she realised what sorts of creatures came out during the night.
Owls hooted over her. Padded paws of a clawed cat tread nearby. Snuffling from a fox came close a time or two. Worst of all, the high-pitched screeching of the colony of bats that clouded the darkening sky and blotted out the stars.
Rita couldn't put her guard down, she couldn't rest. If she did, she was going to die. Being eaten alive sounded like a horrible way to go.
She wondered if they had intended for her to die or if this was just a test. Would they even be suspected of her abduction and murder? Without a crime scene or a body, she suspected that her murder would go unsolved despite the fact that Granger and the brothers had plenty of motive. So did half the bloody country and some people on the continent.
How was she ever going to survive this night?