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It was hard being a reporter, harder than most people gave her credit for. Sure, she had her fans, those witches that hung on her every word. The ones that bought the paper just because there was a chance that she had an article in it. She had fans that mailed her compliments, and small gifts, ones that sent long letters praising her detective work and her witty prose.
But for every fan she had an enemy as well. She had business men claiming her stories were trash, refusing to admit their wrongdoings. Teachers ashamed of their truths coming out to the parents of their students. She had witches furious with her written portrayal of their actions, even though it was hardly her fault they committed those actions in the first place.
Honestly, for every adoring fan she had at least one vehement hater. It was to be expected of course, all too many people could not handle the truth, and all too many people tried to hide from their mistakes and their sins. So let them hate, they couldn't bottle the truth back up once she unleashed it. They couldn't take back the dirty little secrets she spilled across the pages so that all of rewarding Britain could see their shame. Her printed words the proverbial ink stain across their reputations.
So Rita did what Rita did best, if her adversaries wished to confront her she wouldn't hide. She would be the most noticeable figure in the room, a bright beacon of truth in a whole world full of lies. She would have her quill at the ready, always enchanted, eager to catch every delicious little word that dripped from their mouths secretly just as eager to spill their truths as she was to expose them. She would wait there with a smile, and chirpy voice to lure those shy shy secrets to the surface.
Of course, some people needed more coaxing than others. Some admitted their wrongdoings just for the fame of having committed them. The novelty of being a household name for a moment. The excitement of thousands of housewitches seeing their picture and gasping at the thought of their scandals. The thought of every stroke of her quill leaving an everlasting memory of them upon her readers. It was a prize all too many wizards longed for.
Others liked to lie, she had learned. Spewing falsehood after falsehood until it was nearly impossible for even her to keep up. Their fabrications elaborate. Some stories so twisted she could have become dizzy trying to piece the truth together with the breadcrumbs of truth they actually provided her. The spiderwebs of their tales stretching across her entire flat as she pieced together the true scandal hiding within the mess.
Some hid until the bitter end, never once acknowledging the things they had done. Refusing to confess even once the ink was dry on the paper and all of the wizarding world knew their ways. Some giving interviews to less reputable sources in a futile attempt to save their reputation. Some sneaky witches even lashing out at her, trapping her for the simple perceived crime of exposing the truth.
Worse though, some of them were tricksters. Those that used blackmail and threats to get what they desired. Threatening to expose her own secrets in exchange for her hiding the truth from the world. Demanding her to write pieces she didn't believe in, expecting her to disobey the ministry itself and publish in utter rags.
Still though, despite the adversity Rita knew she would be ok. There would always be those who fought the truth, but she would always be ready to fight back. Ready with a quick quill and a quicker wit to write her own truth.