Truth and Lies (Nita backstory) [Warning: Language]
Jul 20, 2015 20:06:06 GMT -6
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Post by Nita Elwyn on Jul 20, 2015 20:06:06 GMT -6
Nita Elwyn sighed softly as she cleaned up her desk. She had just turned in her last story for the day. Now she could pack up and get ready to go home. It had been a long, long day. She'd had to write a hard story—harder than usual. It had reminded her painfully of events she was trying to forget. She had cried a bit, writing it up. She could have used a DictaQuill to keep from spotting the parchment, but she hadn't wanted to speak any of that story out loud. It wasn't the sort of thing you wanted your co-workers to hear you talking about. It was the sort of thing that had to be read, though, and so she had written the story. She hoped Claverdon wouldn't get on her case about the tear stains. He had been pickier and pickier about her work lately. Nita didn't know if it was because she was American or because she was Muggleborn. Maybe a combination of both. Or maybe he just didn't like her because he was a bully and she wouldn't let him get away with pushing her around. Whatever the reason, he'd better not mess with her tonight over the article. She wasn't in the mood. She just wanted to get home.
She had just straightened her in tray (filled with things she had no intention of looking at tonight) when Claverdon's voice boomed through the cubicles. “Elwyn!”
Nita sighed again. “Right here, Claverdon,” she said, poking her head around the cubicle wall. “No need to shout.”
Claverdon marched through the cubicles, his bulldog-like face bright red, his tiny eyes burning. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, shoving a piece of parchment in Nita's face.
“That would be the article I submitted for editing this afternoon,” Nita said, trying to stay calm. “Is there something wrong with it, sir?” She couldn't help the slight sarcastic spin on the 'sir'.
“Yes, there's damn well something damn wrong with the damn thing!” Claverdon had no qualms about cursing in the office, especially when he was angry. Spit flew from his mouth and landed on Nita's cheek. She wiped it off.
“Can you tell me what I need to fix, then, please? I'll make a note and get the changes to you first thing in the morning.”
“No you damn well won't! You'll destroy this piece of shit right now! I'm not having it published in my paper!”
“I'm sorry, what's wrong with it? Why can't we publish it? It's about murder. It's an important story. People need to know.”
“Not our people,” he snarled.
“Why not? It involved wizards.”
“No, it involved effing Muggles! Muggles, Elwyn! No one cares about Muggles! No one who reads the paper is going to care about the deaths of a family of effing Muggles! I won't publish it!”
Tears stung Nita's eyes before she could stop them. She swallowed hard. “With all due respect, sir, I think people will care, and I think they need to know. It was a family of Muggles, but if you read my article, you'd see that I found out the oldest son had been accepted to Aurora. He was a wizard and that means there's wizard interest in the story. And it's also clear that they were killed by wizards. They...they had been hit with the killing curse. It's on the official investigation report. I checked.”
“They were Muggles,” Claverdon growled. “I don't care if they were killed by the reincarnation of You-Know-Who himself—they were effing Muggles and no one will care!”
“They should!” Nita shouted back. “They should care about this kind of thing. It hasn't just been this family. I looked into it. There have been other attacks, not counting that one on the Quidditch World Cup a year ago. There's something going on and it's our duty to find out about it and tell the truth about it so people can do something to stop it!”
Claverdon pulled his wand. “You're not going to report anything about any attacks on Muggles,” he said, pointing the wand at her. “If you do, you won't be able to report anything every again.”
Nita pulled her own wand and matched his stance. “You can't threaten me, Claverdon. I'm a better witch than you are a wizard and you know it. You just try to curse me—I'll send you to the hospital in pieces!”
Claverdon's wand lowered a bit. He knew she was right. Nita was infamous in the office for her skill at offensive spells. Claverdon had a lot of bravado, but not much skill.
Nita kept her wand steadily pointed at him. “Are you going to let me publish that story, sir?” she asked.
“No,” he growled. He wasn't frightened enough to give in on this. He moved his wand to the parchment in his hand. It turned to ashes. He let them float to the floor. "It's gone. If you write it again, you'll be out on your ass before you can say Mudblood."
“Then you're going to have to find someone to take my position,” Nita said, “because if I can't tell the truth, I can't be a journalist. You can consider this my resignation.”
“You can't just--” Claverdon began, but Nita disapparated out of the office before he could finish.
She reappeared in a small clump of trees in the local park. After a quick look to see if anyone was around, Nita allowed herself to fold to the ground at the base of a tree and bury her face in her knees. She surrendered to the rush of the tears she'd been holding back. She had lost her job and, what was worse, she had not been allowed to tell what had happened to that poor family. She would not be able to investigate it any further. She had been hoping that it might be connected to her mother's murder, that she could use her journalism skills to help catch the bastards and put them away. Now she had no chance.
She had just straightened her in tray (filled with things she had no intention of looking at tonight) when Claverdon's voice boomed through the cubicles. “Elwyn!”
Nita sighed again. “Right here, Claverdon,” she said, poking her head around the cubicle wall. “No need to shout.”
Claverdon marched through the cubicles, his bulldog-like face bright red, his tiny eyes burning. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, shoving a piece of parchment in Nita's face.
“That would be the article I submitted for editing this afternoon,” Nita said, trying to stay calm. “Is there something wrong with it, sir?” She couldn't help the slight sarcastic spin on the 'sir'.
“Yes, there's damn well something damn wrong with the damn thing!” Claverdon had no qualms about cursing in the office, especially when he was angry. Spit flew from his mouth and landed on Nita's cheek. She wiped it off.
“Can you tell me what I need to fix, then, please? I'll make a note and get the changes to you first thing in the morning.”
“No you damn well won't! You'll destroy this piece of shit right now! I'm not having it published in my paper!”
“I'm sorry, what's wrong with it? Why can't we publish it? It's about murder. It's an important story. People need to know.”
“Not our people,” he snarled.
“Why not? It involved wizards.”
“No, it involved effing Muggles! Muggles, Elwyn! No one cares about Muggles! No one who reads the paper is going to care about the deaths of a family of effing Muggles! I won't publish it!”
Tears stung Nita's eyes before she could stop them. She swallowed hard. “With all due respect, sir, I think people will care, and I think they need to know. It was a family of Muggles, but if you read my article, you'd see that I found out the oldest son had been accepted to Aurora. He was a wizard and that means there's wizard interest in the story. And it's also clear that they were killed by wizards. They...they had been hit with the killing curse. It's on the official investigation report. I checked.”
“They were Muggles,” Claverdon growled. “I don't care if they were killed by the reincarnation of You-Know-Who himself—they were effing Muggles and no one will care!”
“They should!” Nita shouted back. “They should care about this kind of thing. It hasn't just been this family. I looked into it. There have been other attacks, not counting that one on the Quidditch World Cup a year ago. There's something going on and it's our duty to find out about it and tell the truth about it so people can do something to stop it!”
Claverdon pulled his wand. “You're not going to report anything about any attacks on Muggles,” he said, pointing the wand at her. “If you do, you won't be able to report anything every again.”
Nita pulled her own wand and matched his stance. “You can't threaten me, Claverdon. I'm a better witch than you are a wizard and you know it. You just try to curse me—I'll send you to the hospital in pieces!”
Claverdon's wand lowered a bit. He knew she was right. Nita was infamous in the office for her skill at offensive spells. Claverdon had a lot of bravado, but not much skill.
Nita kept her wand steadily pointed at him. “Are you going to let me publish that story, sir?” she asked.
“No,” he growled. He wasn't frightened enough to give in on this. He moved his wand to the parchment in his hand. It turned to ashes. He let them float to the floor. "It's gone. If you write it again, you'll be out on your ass before you can say Mudblood."
“Then you're going to have to find someone to take my position,” Nita said, “because if I can't tell the truth, I can't be a journalist. You can consider this my resignation.”
“You can't just--” Claverdon began, but Nita disapparated out of the office before he could finish.
She reappeared in a small clump of trees in the local park. After a quick look to see if anyone was around, Nita allowed herself to fold to the ground at the base of a tree and bury her face in her knees. She surrendered to the rush of the tears she'd been holding back. She had lost her job and, what was worse, she had not been allowed to tell what had happened to that poor family. She would not be able to investigate it any further. She had been hoping that it might be connected to her mother's murder, that she could use her journalism skills to help catch the bastards and put them away. Now she had no chance.
