Maeve Macmillan liked to write.
It didn't matter if it was writing her thoughts in her diary, short stories in a journal, articles for newspapers, essays for homework, letters to her parents, simple reminders on her hand, quotes on parchment to st...
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——————————> AT BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY, Maeve felt the immense, overwhelming urge to commit a crime as she mentally held a funeral for the spirit of journalism. Her friends exchanged concerned glances from where they sat beside and adjacent to her at the Hufflepuff table, watching with growing worry as the expressions on Maeve's face shifted from curious to anger to murderous, but Maeve paid them no mind.
Her gaze was fixed on the words printed on the newspaper, scanning over articles written by the Daily Prophet's most celebrated reporters, Melissa Jackson and Rita Skeeter.
Should Rita have been a romantic-drama author or an entertainment reporter, Maeve felt she would have excelled in the field. However, Rita seemed to be dabbing into all kinds of writing lately and every one of them carried her trademark over-dramatised exaggeration and had been woven with foolishness beyond belief.
But it was not Rita Skeeter's amplified lies that flamed her fury. Rather, it was Melissa Jackson's report detailing the newest victims to the You-Know-Who's wrath.
Journalists were supposed to be disciples of Lord Hermes— fearless messengers who announced crimes and news. They were not, however, supposed to be biased in their writing or glorify any crime— something that Melissa Jackson had forgotten.
Melissa's report had been written in a manner that suggested that the poor muggle family of a muggle-born who had been mercilessly killed in the sanctity of their home, were asking for it since they hadn't taken the precautions to layer their property with wards, charms and enchantments. Not once had she mentioned that the fault had to be weighted on the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord. Melissa, through her article, subtly crafted an image for the readers saying that it was the unfortunate victims who had to be blamed for the loss of their lives.
Maeve wasn't sure if Melissa had articulately framed her statements this way because she was being told by someone to do so or because she genuinely believed her words, but Maeve wanted her to stop.
Holding the title of "Journalist" wasn't a path to say whatever you wanted without consequences. It was an obligation to inform people what they needed to know from a neutral perspective. Free press existed. But it wasn't created to be exploited by the ones who are armoured to guard it.
Without her consent, Maeve's hands gripped the newspaper tighter until she had crumbled it into a ball.
Bruce wordlessly handed her a bowl of chocolate pudding. Maeve accepted it and began eating. Unfortunately, not even the heavenly tasting treat could calm her thunderous thoughts regarding the article.
Maeve was furious with not only Melissa but also the editors of the Daily Prophet themselves. After reading and reviewing her pathetic excuse of an article, what on earth convinced them that it was good or honest enough for it to be printed, Maeve would never know nor did she care to ponder about.
