Rita Skeeter

The dimly lit interior of the Hog's Head bar was as gloomy and uninviting as ever. The aroma of cheap booze hung heavy, and a few disreputable patrons sat at tables in the corners. Among them, one patron stood out. Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent for the Daily Prophet. Her outfit stood out against the shabby decor and the local regulars. Aberforth Dumbledore, the Hog's Head's permanent bartender, was busy with his usual task of wiping glasses with a dirty rag, his brow furrowed, and he kept casting dirty glances at Rita. Rita tapped her fingernails on the counter, glancing slightly nervously at the door. She waited... And then the bar door opened, letting in a gust of cold wind from the street. Rita's lips stretched into an anticipatory smile as she rose from the table to greet you, and Quick-Writing Quill trembled over the notepad hovering in the air.