Chapter 308: Rita Skeeter
The afternoon sun filtered through the dungeon windows as Sean sat immersed in an ancient Potions tome, its leather binding worn smooth by countless scholarly hands. The musty scent of preserved ingredients mingled with the ever-present dampness of the underground classroom, creating an atmosphere thick with magical possibility.
This year brought new freedoms to his Potions education. While Snape hadn't granted him the same class exemption as Transfiguration, Sean could pursue any Potions-related activity during lessons. Whether reading rare texts or conducting experimental brewing, the dungeons had become his personal laboratory.
The precious volume before him came from Snape's private collection, its pages filled with techniques that most students wouldn't encounter until advanced mastery. Sean now possessed unrestricted access to his Head of House's office, books, materials, and experimental stores.
A nervous knock interrupted his concentration. A young Gryffindor student stood in the doorway, trembling slightly under the collective gaze of Slytherin students.
"Professor Snape, Professor Dumbledore requests that Sean Bulstrode come upstairs for interviews and wand inspection."
Snape's obsidian eyes fixed on Sean before offering a curt nod. As Sean approached, the professor leaned close, his voice a silky whisper that carried undertones of steel.
"You're prepared for both the interview and wand inspection?"
The emphasis on 'wand inspection' wasn't lost on Sean. He met his professor's gaze with steady confidence. "I'm prepared, Professor. Don't worry."
"Good. Go."
Sean tucked the valuable tome under his arm and departed. Behind him, Snape's mood seemed to darken like storm clouds gathering overhead. The remaining students shivered involuntarily, sensing their professor's sudden shift toward barely controlled irritation.
The interview chamber had been transformed from an ordinary classroom into something resembling a photographer's studio. Desks and chairs clustered against the back wall while the centre space remained clear for positioning subjects. Fleur and Krum waited inside, their champion status excusing them from regular academic obligations.
Fleur's face brightened at Sean's arrival, her wave drawing him like a beacon across the room. He settled beside her with natural ease, the familiar comfort of friendship providing an anchor in uncertain waters.
Krum abandoned his previous aloof demeanour, extending his hand with genuine respect. "Hello. I learnt of your achievements after returning to school. You are a remarkable wizard indeed."
Obviously, news of Sean's Golden Cauldron Award had reached even Northern Europe's Quidditch circles, where The Golden Cauldron held prestigious status among magical publications.
"Your Quidditch accomplishments have surpassed many as well," Sean replied diplomatically, accepting the handshake.
With introductions complete, the three champions settled into cautious camaraderie. Sean chatted easily with Fleur while occasionally exchanging observations with Krum, the conversation flowing like water finding its natural course.
Movement in his peripheral vision drew Sean's attention to a witch seated near Ludo Bagman. Her magenta robes blazed like a warning flag, while perfectly coiffed blonde curls framed features sharp with predatory intelligence. Though she maintained animated discussion with the Ministry official, her emerald eyes never strayed far from the champions.
Rita Skeeter had arrived.
Sean felt no apprehension at her presence. Perhaps ordinary young wizards might fear the notorious reporter's poison pen, but Sean possessed both abilities and connections sufficient to keep such creatures in line.
"Bagman, if possible, let me interview the three champions individually."
"Oh, I should ask them first. They might not wish to..."
"Thank you so much, Bagman."
Completely ignoring the official's halfhearted protest, Rita swept forward like a bird of prey descending on fresh meat. She interviewed Krum first, then Fleur, her questions clearly designed to provoke discomfort. Both champions emerged from their sessions wearing expressions of barely concealed irritation.
"Ah, your turn, youngest champion."
Rita extended one perfectly manicured hand toward Sean, her two-inch scarlet nails resembling talons ready to strike. Before she could make contact, Sean stepped smoothly backward, evading her grasp with fluid grace.
"I don't grant interviews. Thank you."
"Two of the three champions have already participated."
"That's their choice. I decline."
Rita's smile transformed into something predatory and cold. She unrolled parchment with a theatrical flourish, revealing a luminescent green quill that immediately began scribbling of its own accord, weaving fiction from thin air.
[The youngest champion displays arrogance unmatched by his competitors. Perhaps he lacks their skill but certainly possesses the most champion-like bearing...]
"I understand both your parents are Squibs. This means all your magical education occurred after arriving at Hogwarts?"
"As I mentioned, I already declined your interview."
The enchanted quill danced across parchment with malicious glee.
[Squib parents provided no assistance in the young champion's development. They could only watch helplessly as their son mastered arts beyond their comprehension. This fills the champion with regret over their limitations, though his love for them remains strong...]
"I hear your name wasn't self-submitted to the Goblet of Fire, yet you possessed the ability to bypass the Age Line. Might you have entered your own name and simply forgotten?"
Sean's gaze turned arctic, ice crystallising in the depths of his eyes.
The green quill began another fabrication, but before completing its first deceitful word, Sean's hand shot forward like a striking serpent. His fingers closed around both quill and parchment with crushing finality.
"Rita Skeeter." His voice carried the quiet menace of winter storms. "Perhaps you've forgotten that I currently serve as a Wizengamot candidate who recently received the Golden Cauldron Award and Order of Merlin, Second Class. Behind me stands the deeply rooted Bulstrode family network.
So tell me, Rita Skeeter, are you prepared for the consequences of publishing false articles?"
Colour drained from Rita's face like water from cracked stone. She had indeed forgotten these crucial details, focusing solely on potential scandal value while ignoring the very real political and social power arrayed against her.
Fury replaced fear in her expression, anger at being outmanoeuvred by someone she considered beneath her station.
Seeing Rita fall silent, Sean released his grip. The broken quill and fabricated parchment tumbled toward the floor, bursting into fierce flames before touching stone. Within moments, nothing remained but scattered ash and the acrid scent of destroyed lies.
Sean returned to his companions while Fleur offered an approving thumbs-up, her smile radiant with admiration.
Without Rita's interference poisoning the atmosphere, they proceeded smoothly to wand inspection. The process would evaluate each champion's primary magical instrument, ensuring no unfair advantages or hidden enhancements compromised the tournament's integrity.
Fleur submitted to examination first, followed by Krum, with Sean completing the sequence. Among the three, only Sean carried a wand from Ollivander's renowned shop. When the legendary wandmaker evaluated the foreign instruments, his assessments remained brief and professional.
But when Sean's turn arrived, something changed in the old craftsman's demeanour, his pale eyes brightening with renewed interest and the promise of deeper mysteries yet to be revealed.