Chapter 317. Beetle Lady
On the way back to the castle, Harry kept thinking today had been perfect—the first task of the Triwizard Tournament successfully completed, his friends at his side.
Until a heavily made-up woman suddenly jumped out from behind the bushes.
"Hello there, Harry Potter."
Rita Skeeter wore stiffly set curls, bright red lipstick, and exaggerated false eyelashes. She had on bright green robes and was holding a notebook the exact same colour as her clothes.
Beaming, she blocked Harry's path. "Let me do an exclusive with you—oh, just a few minutes. How did you feel when you were facing the dragon?"
Harry instinctively stepped back half a pace.
Rita Skeeter's affected grin made him feel slightly sick, as if he'd drunk an entire jar of Flobberworm mucus.
"I'm afraid not, Ms Skeeter," Harry answered calmly. "I'm in a hurry to get back to the—"
"I know you're busy. Just one question."
Rita suddenly seized Harry's wrist. At the same time, a quill flew out of the pocket at her breast and began scrawling furiously across the notebook in her other hand.
"It'll only take two minutes. For example, your thoughts on the new task in the Triwizard Tournament? I heard you secretly trained before the competition?"
Harry yanked his arm back. Rita staggered and nearly fell.
"Oh, careful."
She patted her chest in an exaggerated fashion.
Meanwhile, the quill started scribbling wildly again.
"Don't mind her!" Hermione tugged at Harry. "Let's go!"
"Too right!" Ron said bluntly. "Don't talk to any reporters, Harry—they're like dogs!"
Frowning, Harry turned and strode off quickly with Ron and Hermione.
Perhaps Rita's heels weren't made for walking, or perhaps she'd already gathered enough material; she didn't try to catch up, but stood where she was for a moment.
Of course, that magical quill hadn't stopped for a second.
"Such rude little brats," she muttered, then narrowed her eyes in satisfaction and prepared to leave.
That was enough…
Suddenly, a cold gust swept past.
The notebook vanished from her hand.
"!"
Rita reacted at once and turned. A tall man was leisurely leafing through her notebook.
"What do you think you're doing!?" she screeched. "Give that back! That's private property!"
Adrian Wesson ignored her warning and flipped two more pages.
"'During the interview Harry Potter displayed a clear tendency toward violence and repeatedly attempted to attack the journalist… Sources say Potter is habitually ill-tempered, which cannot be separated from the influence of his Muggle-born girlfriend and his vulgar friends…'"
"You really are a genius, Rita Skeeter," Adrian said, relishing the contents. "A born journalist!"
Adrian was somewhat known to the wider world; Rita recognised him at once.
"Oh, Professor Wesson," she dropped the severity from her face and gave a syrupy smile, "please return that notebook to me. If you like, I can suitably amend some of what's written in there. You do understand that's only a draft—the actual copy won't have any of that."
"No."
Adrian shrugged lightly. A lick of flame sprang from his palm and, in an instant, the notebook crammed with all that rubbishy content turned to ash.
Seeing this, Rita's smile froze.
"You… you…"
Her chest heaved; she was clearly livid.
How could he do this?
Plenty of people despised her, but no one had ever dared burn her notebook right in front of her eyes!
"Fine!" she spat. "Do you think burning my notebook is the end of it? A Hogwarts professor can just destroy someone's personal property at will? The entire wizarding world will know how you so-called educators treat freedom of the press!"
Unruffled, Adrian dusted the ash from his hand and gave her a meaningful smile.
"Are you quite sure you want to do that?" he drawled. "Beetle lady?"
Of all the things she had reckoned on, Rita had not reckoned on Adrian uttering the words "beetle lady."
Her face drained of colour at once, as though a Dementor had kissed her. Not even the vivid lipstick could hide that deathly pallor.
"You're talking nonsense," Rita forced herself to calm down. "What beetle lady?"
Naturally, Adrian caught the panic and unease on her face and laughed inwardly.
"Need me to be clearer?" he said smoothly. "An illegal Animagus… now that would be quite a story. Ah, how amusing."
Rita stumbled back two steps. Her carefully coiffed curls now puffed like a startled Blast-Ended Skrewt.
"You… you can't—"
"Mind yourself, beetle lady. I don't want to see anything untrue about Harry Potter in your reports."
Leaving those words behind, Adrian turned on his heel and walked away without another glance—he trusted Rita Skeeter was clever enough to know what to do.
When Adrian's figure vanished, Rita collapsed into the mud and stared blankly ahead.
After a long time, a muffled sob burst out of her—and then turned into a nervous little laugh.
Just wait.
No one must ever learn she was an Animagus.
No matter the price.
At this moment, Adrian had no idea what dark little thoughts were curdling in Rita's mind.
Of course, it wouldn't have mattered if he had.
He didn't think Rita could threaten him.
What—by public opinion alone?
Don't be silly. In the wizarding world, strength was what mattered.
Take Lord Voldemort, for example—however much people hated him—
One Avada Kedavra, and they behaved.
After warning Rita Skeeter, Adrian returned to the grounds in high spirits.
The students were gone. Dumbledore and several judges were chatting not far away. A few dragon handlers were dismantling the wooden pens and barriers. The dragons were nowhere to be seen—no doubt transferred elsewhere.
No sooner had Adrian appeared than Lupin, with Black in tow, made straight for him.
"Sirius says he needs his colour changed back," Lupin said, pointing at the pink dog on the ground. "He says there's no way he can show his face like this."
"Oh, that's simple." Adrian drew his wand and cleared his throat. "Daisies, sweet cream and sunshine—turn this silly dog black."
A string of golden sparks shot from his wand tip.
A moment later—
Sirius gave Adrian an odd look—he hadn't felt a thing.
"Are you sure that's the right—" Lupin didn't finish. From the tip of the tail, Sirius's fur began, at a rate visible to the naked eye, to shed that eye-watering pink, gradually returning to its original jet black.
"Woof!" Sirius said gratefully.
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