Chapter 250: The Damned Interview

Allen stared blankly at the feather pen darting across the parchment, his thoughts tangled—he had underestimated Rita Skeeter entirely.

Rita Skeeter noticed Allen’s gaze and swiftly flipped the parchment over. “Don’t mind that—I’ve written that passage many times. My readers love it. I won’t publish it.”

“Let’s continue. Why aren’t you speaking?”

Allen felt utterly speechless. You’re putting on such a show—what am I supposed to say?

“Are you holding back? Someone told you not to say these things? Finis? Don’t worry—our readers adore rebels. They’ll protect you.” Rita Skeeter arched a heavily lined eyebrow.

“Rebel?” Allen repeated.

“Yes—people who defy authority, stand up to power... If you’ve been threatened, don’t fear—speak up. We’ll give you fair treatment.”

The quick-writing quill continued recording: The interviewee rejected a valuable opportunity. He has clearly been threatened, and the perpetrator seems obvious...

Allen frowned. “I haven’t been threatened. Don’t write that. I just dislike publicity.”

“Really? In my view, our readers have the right to know the truth... Go ahead—say it, for example...” She spoke bluntly.

“Truth?” Allen interrupted.

“Come on. No one turns down fame. You’re a wizard raised in a Muggle orphanage, drowning in debt. You’d never refuse this chance. You published countless papers, endured hardship to become the youngest Animagus—all to become famous. Yet today you’ve bizarrely rejected it all. What’s the hidden reason?” Rita Skeeter’s tone dripped with implication.

Allen felt anger rising. He no longer wanted to speak.

“Let’s talk about you—your life, your childhood. That might help you understand yourself better.” Rita Skeeter switched topics swiftly.

“There’s no need. I know exactly who I am,” Allen said, growing impatient.

But Rita Skeeter didn’t relent. “Finis, you grew up in a Muggle orphanage. You suffered plenty at Hogwarts, didn’t you? Care to talk about it? Overcoming such hardship to achieve so much—I’m sure many readers would find that compelling.”

“I’m fine. No one bullied me!” Allen replied stiffly.

Immediately, Allen saw the quill on the table writing on the parchment:

The interviewee claims descent from the Shafiq family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The author has reason to believe he is the illegitimate child of a Shafiq family member—a logical claim, since a wizard with pure-blood lineage achieving such success is far more convincing than one born to Muggles.

“Ignore that. ‘Muggle-born’ sounds too weak. Our readers prefer strong-willed wizards with ties to famous families. The Shafiqs are a fine choice.”

“Alright, let’s change topics—your relationship with Harry Potter.” Before Allen could speak, Rita Skeeter switched again.

“I heard you’re roommates? You’re close?” Rita Skeeter studied Allen.

“Yes. We’re good friends,” Allen replied tersely.

Immediately, Allen saw the quill writing on the parchment:

When mentioning the famous Harry Potter, our interviewee suddenly grew shy. His cheeks flushed crimson. He pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes shining with happiness. He readily admitted his relationship with Harry Potter. Both are orphans. The author believes their similar pasts drew two lonely hearts together swiftly.

They are in love...

Allen finally snapped. He couldn’t believe how bizarre this reporter was—utterly irrational.

He grabbed the parchment and swept the quick-writing quill off the table onto the floor.

“What are you doing? Our readers love this! Don’t destroy your own future!” Rita Skeeter shouted angrily.

“What future? Let it be destroyed!” Allen placed the parchment on the tip of his tail, and the flame there instantly ignited the stack.

Rita Skeeter raised her wand to stop him, but Allen struck her wrist with his tail without hesitation. Her wand clattered to the ground.

Allen watched the parchment turn to ash. He sighed. “If even half of this were true, it might make decent toilet reading...”

Rita Skeeter’s eyebrows twisted. Her thick fingers clenched the spot where Allen’s tail had struck, her long crimson nails—two inches long—digging into her skin.

“You’ve lost the friendship of someone who truly wanted to help you. You’ll regret this,” Rita Skeeter hissed venomously.

“I don’t need help like that,” Allen said bluntly.

He left the Great Hall, leaving Rita Skeeter alone, seething.

Allen couldn’t focus on his afternoon classes. He kept replaying what had happened. He knew he’d made an enemy of Rita Skeeter—but he felt no regret. He had nothing to say to her.

Yet he also knew this wasn’t over. Though he’d burned the parchment, he knew Rita Skeeter could easily recover the content—and likely embellish it before publishing.

In the future, Allen would likely keep reading Rita Skeeter’s slanderous articles about him.

So he had to quietly help her correct her mistaken beliefs.

He’d learned Rita Skeeter was staying in Hogsmeade today, so he planned to slip out at night to give her a proper lesson in reality.

He wasn’t afraid of being exposed—he had too many ways to conceal his identity. After teaching her a lesson, she wouldn’t know who he was.

When everyone in the dormitory was asleep, Allen transformed into a butterfly and slipped out. In midair, he shifted again into an eagle, oriented himself, then shot swiftly toward Hogsmeade...

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