Chapter 249

With the matter pushed this far, Allen couldn’t think of any reason to refuse, though he had no interest in the so-called opportunity the woman mentioned.

“Alright, I’m honored to have lunch with Minister Fudge,” Allen said through gritted teeth.

Minister Fudge nodded in satisfaction and led the way toward the Great Hall, accompanied by Professor Dumbledore.

Professor Dumbledore turned and gave Allen a reassuring glance.

Meanwhile, the woman named Rita Skeeter giggled, making Allen feel deeply uneasy.

They did not dine in the main hall of the Great Hall, but in a small room at its rear.

Minister Fudge deliberately seated Allen beside himself.

Facing a table laden with lavish food, Allen had little appetite, but he feigned hunger and buried himself in eating.

Fudge and Professor Dumbledore began to converse.

“I’ve always kept an eye on Mr. Finis, but his current achievements still far exceed my expectations,” Minister Fudge said calmly. “At just thirteen, he’s published over a dozen papers, improved five spells, and become the youngest Animagus ever recorded.”

Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a woman’s voice.

“This is all due to the care shown by Minister Fudge and Hogwarts, which gave a Muggle-born orphan the chance to achieve such success,” Rita Skeeter suddenly laughed, revealing three large gold teeth.

Allen, who had been diligently eating, suddenly froze—he was nauseated by Skeeter’s words and lost all appetite.

Professor Dumbledore’s expression turned icy; he shot Rita Skeeter a cold look, yet her smile didn’t waver.

“This is primarily the result of Mr. Finis’s own efforts,” Professor Dumbledore said slowly.

“Mr. Finis’s personal effort is indeed vital, but the Ministry and Hogwarts have also invested heavily in financial aid—it’s a classic case of support leading to excellence,” Minister Fudge said smoothly.

Professor Dumbledore raised an eyebrow but said nothing in response to Fudge’s words.

Fudge, unconcerned by Dumbledore’s attitude, turned to Allen. “Allen, the Ministry plans to publicize your story so more people can know you. We’d like you to cooperate with our promotional efforts in the near future—what do you think?”

Allen’s first instinct was to look at Professor Dumbledore, who was frowning tightly.

“Minister, I’m just an ordinary young wizard, and I still have many classes this term—I simply don’t have time for promotion. Many students at Hogwarts are equally outstanding; why not choose someone else? Percy Weasley, for instance, would be perfect.” Allen wanted to get rid of the matter immediately.

“No wonder such a young boy has published so many papers—he clearly loves learning,” Fudge praised, then shifted tone. “Third-year classes are important, but I’m certain your intelligence makes them no challenge.”

“And you must understand the significance of cooperating with the Ministry: your story will inspire many young wizards to strive for excellence like you,” Fudge emphasized, placing a heavy crown of praise on Allen’s head.

Allen wanted to protest, but realized Fudge’s words were cunning—they nearly blocked every possible rebuttal. He knew Fudge was using his achievements as political capital.

“Mr. Finis’s current accomplishments are indeed astonishing, but I believe he should be given more time to study, allowing this genius to produce even greater results, rather than wasting it on publicity stunts,” Professor Dumbledore said firmly but calmly.

Minister Fudge’s face darkened instantly, but in front of Dumbledore, he dared not lash out—the atmosphere in the room grew heavy and tense.

“We all have Mr. Finis’s best interests at heart.”

“I understand both of your positions—why not each of you compromise a little?” Rita Skeeter interjected smoothly.

“Mr. Finis’s studies are important—he doesn’t need to go to the Ministry for promotion—but he should cooperate with some promotional activities at Hogwarts, ones that won’t interfere with his studies,” Minister Fudge quickly regained his composure and proposed a compromise.

Professor Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again, but Fudge continued: “The public has the right to know about Mr. Finis. The Ministry’s annual budget for Hogwarts comes from public taxes—his story will show the public the value of their contributions.”

Professor Dumbledore said nothing more in rebuttal.

Minister Fudge waved his hand, and the photographer behind Rita Skeeter raised his camera, snapping one photo after another...

After the photos were finally finished, Allen thought he was free—until he caught a strong scent of perfume. He didn’t need to guess: the source was Rita Skeeter.

He turned to leave, but she lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder with thick, fat fingers. “There’s still time before class—I think we can use this moment for an exclusive interview.”

Allen stared helplessly at Rita Skeeter—he hadn’t expected this woman to be so relentlessly persistent.

“I’ve long wanted to interview you. I’ve always been fascinated by you,” Rita Skeeter pulled him into a corner of the Great Hall, where only the two of them remained.

“Ms. Skeeter...”

Allen was swiftly cut off—this woman was terrifyingly forceful. She waved her wand, and a Quick-Quotes Quill and a roll of parchment flew out of her crocodile-skin handbag.

“Finis, I’ll use the Quick-Quotes Quill to record—won’t you object? That way I can keep my hands free to talk with you normally...”

Before Allen could reply, the parchment unrolled itself, and the Quick-Quotes Quill landed vertically atop it, its tip trembling lightly.

“Hmm, where to begin? Let’s start with why you refused to cooperate with the Ministry’s promotional efforts!” she smiled, and Allen found her three gold teeth glaringly bright.

The long, green Quick-Quotes Quill darted rapidly, spilling out a stream of fluent script:

This interviewee radiates confidence and ambition, his hunger for greatness piercing my eyes. I’ve interviewed many geniuses before, but this one gives me a strange feeling—familiar yet alien. He reminds me of a young Dark Lord...

Allen stared in silence as the parchment filled with more and more text—he hadn’t even spoken a word yet...

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