0322 Rita Skeeter

‘Rita Skeeter?’

Even before the rhythmic rapping on the thick wooden door reverberated through the room, Bryan was acutely aware of the identity of this unannounced visitor.

To be honest, Bryan rather appreciated certain qualities exhibited by this female reporter. Putting aside what happened on the day of the press conference, the fact that Rita Skeeter could unearth the obscure details surrounding the dark wizard attack incident that occurred during his student years at Hogwarts within a mere matter of days, meticulously tracking down those who had borne witness to that incident, all in an unwavering pursuit of unearthing sensational topics about himself – this unwavering dedication was, if nothing else, commendable.

Especially since she had perceptively seized upon the ‘Fiendfyre’ as her lead, associating him with the dark wizard who had audaciously attacked the Black Manor in Grimmauld Square the previous year, an event that had sent shockwaves reverberating through both the Muggle government and the wizarding world alike. Such sharp and penetrating thinking, Bryan had to acknowledge, was an increasingly rare commodity.

Knock, knock, knock!

Another urgent burst of insistent knocking came from the other side of the door. Rita Skeeter seemed very certain that someone was present in the room, taking on an attitude of not leaving until the door was opened.

Bryan raised a perplexed eyebrow, pausing for a contemplative moment, before rising slowly from his seated position and making his way towards the door, ultimately acquiescing to her persistent demands and allowing it to swing open.

Rita Skeeter’s appearance was not much different from the last time at the press conference, except for a brightly colored shirt. At the moment, her left hand was carrying the distinctive crocodile skin handbag, and her fist was clenched in mid-air, making a swinging motion.

Bryan could probably guess that Rita Skeeter had already learned about him using the Daily Prophet’s board of directors to suppress that article, because this woman’s expression, which she had not yet had time to conceal, bore obvious anger. But then, realizing that the door was open, she switched to a delighted expression.

“Ah, Mr. Watson, locating your place of residence has proven quite the formidable challenge, even for an experienced journalist such as myself. Oh, but as a renowned celebrity, I’m quite certain you don’t recall our previous encounter,” she grimaced, her tone laced with equal parts mockery and sickly insincerity.

“In fact, you left a rather deep impression on me, Ms. Skeeter,”

Rita’s height barely reached Bryan’s chin. He looked down at this uninvited visitor, not giving a pleasant expression despite some appreciation, but rather frowning slightly, trying to exhibit the reaction of someone unwilling to be disturbed when faced with harassment.

Rita Skeeter behaved as if she were an old friend who had known Bryan for years. Without any restraint, she peeked her head past Bryan, shamelessly exploring the room. When she noticed the thick stack of letters waiting to be replied to at the foot of the desk, her eyes lit up, showing great interest.

“You’re replying to your fans, right? Oh, it’s silly to chat outside the door. Why can’t we go in and talk?”

After saying this, without waiting for Bryan’s response, she squeezed past him and quickly walked towards the desk filled with letters, apparently intending to take a peek at the contents of the letters before Bryan could react.

But alas, her brazen attempt was destined to fail. Before she had even traversed half the distance to the desk, the unfolded letter resting atop the glass coffee table suddenly animated, folding itself into a precise square before slipping neatly into the awaiting confines of the open envelope at its side. Simultaneously, the drawer of the desk yawned open with a snap, and the remaining letters vanished from sight, whisked into the drawer’s depths and neatly arranged, the drawer slamming shut with a resounding bang, completely cutting off Rita Skeeter’s prying eyes

“I don’t remember inviting you into my room, Ms. Skeeter.”

Bryan put down his wand and spoke unkindly.

“Based on your behavior just now, I could very well restrain you and send you to the Ministry for detainment for a period of time, according to both Muggle and wizarding laws–“

“Oh, don’t be so dreadfully formal, Bryan!”

Rita Skeeter grinned exaggeratedly. She surveyed the room, quickly locking onto the outdoor balcony behind the curtains, with its glass coffee table and two wicker chairs. She opened the floor-to-ceiling glass door, tossing her leather handbag onto the table before running her fingers through her golden curls.

“Why are you lingering in the door, Bryan? We’re about to conduct a highly anticipated interview!” She bared her lips, her three gold teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

“You’re quite interesting, Ms. Skeeter–“

Bryan half-closed his eyes and chuckled softly. He didn’t attempt to drive her away further but, instead he closed the door behind him and walked towards the balcony.

By the time Bryan had settled into one of the wicker chairs, Rita Skeeter had already produced her quick-quotes quill and a fresh piece of parchment from her handbag, clearly intent on documenting their impending conversation.

“Bryan, I’ll be using the quick-quotes quill for notes, you don’t mind, do you? This way, I can free up my hands to have a proper conversation with you.”

Bryan gestured that he didn’t mind, maintaining a pleasant smile on his face, but there was no trace of amusement in his eyes.

“I won’t mind where you found out about my residence, Ms. Skeeter. As a well-known journalist with professional integrity, I assume you have your ways. But I’m curious, why did you waste your time on me? I mean, I’m already ‘outdated,’ right? The current trend is Sirius Black, and your colleagues are trying hard to find out the inside story of his arrest from the Ministry of Magic–“

Rita Skeeter raised a heavily drawn eyebrow.

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Bryan. People are still very interested in you, and Sirius, he’s the one who’s truly outdated.”

Bryan pursed his lips and didn’t speak, because he noticed that the green quill was writing frantically on the parchment spread out on the glass coffee table:

In this conversation that was achieved after going through various difficulties, Bryan Watson tried to steer the topic towards the current hot topic of Sirius Black’s arrest. The young and handsome face showed a nonchalant expression, but the strange purple eyes flashed with a light that told the writer that he was afraid of something. Perhaps he was afraid the writer would bring up the article that should have met the public long ago, revealing some horrifying truths, but ultimately disappeared quietly in the face of power.

“Huh, how interesting–” After meeting Rita Skeeter, Bryan uttered this remark for the second time.

“You went through all this trouble just to defend yourself, Ms. Skeeter? over the article that exposed the ‘truth’?”

Bryan laced his fingers together, his smile growing cold.

“I did it not to solve my own troubles, Ms. Skeeter, but to prevent you from making a mistake. Not to mention that there is no evidence in your article that connects me to the dark wizard who committed a crime outside Grimmauld Place in the outskirts of London. As for what happened that night when I was at Hogwarts, your article didn’t have a single word that was close to the truth, Ms. Skeeter. If that article were to be published, I would have taken action to protect my reputation.”

Rita Skeeter was an experienced and tough-talking journalist. Throughout her career, she had interviewed officials from various magical ministries and prominent figures in the wizarding world. She could always seize control of the conversation, gradually causing even the most influential ‘big shots’ to falter under her sharp questioning, ultimately breaching their defenses.

However, Bryan seemed to be completely indifferent to her “impressive reputation.” This young wizard carried a heavy aura that suppressed her, making it impossible for her to “freely express herself.”

“Henry and Grace–you surely remember their names, Bryan. Two innocent young wizards were seriously injured by you. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Rita stared at Bryan’s eyes without blinking, her face with a large chin showing a stiff smile.

“The truth?”

Bryan was amused.

“Ms. Skeeter, someone like you should understand that the truth is always a relative term. And whether it’s you or the people in the wizarding world, what they pursue is never the ‘truth’.”

Rita finally realized one thing, that the young man sitting across from her, who would probably be in a lesser-known department doing menial tasks if he were in the Ministry of Magic, or running errands everywhere, Bryan Watson, was not the kind of brainless “fool” she usually encountered.

He was very intelligent and alert, and most importantly, Bryan had an astonishing network of connections in the Wizarding world.

You see, even if the Minister of Magic wanted to remove her article from the Daily Prophet, it would not be a simple task. But according to the information she had gathered, Bryan Watson had somehow managed to order the newspaper to withdraw her article, even though the next issue was already being printed in large quantities.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Bryan,” Rita raised her heavily drawn eyebrows, wiping away the smile that had disappeared from her face due to the thick layer of powder, and her eyes became cold.

“Our readers have the right to know the truth, Bryan, and my job is to uncover the truth.”

In the ensuing silence, Rita’s quill began fabricating again:

When the author asked about the shocking assault on classmates that happened at Hogwarts during that year (the specific details will be attached to the report), Bryan Watson, who gained fame by annihilating Greyback, denied it vehemently and reacted with strong outrage. This makes us suspect the true nature of this hero, who is shrouded in a halo of heroism.

Bryan shook his head disappointedly.

He had invited this journalist in to have a good conversation with her and establish a certain level of friendship, but he had not expected Rita Skeeter to be so stubborn in wanting to spread rumors about him.

“I think it was a mistake to start this conversation, Ms. Rita Skeeter,” he said calmly.

Bang!

Under the radiant rays of the sun filtering through the windows, the glass coffee table, reflecting the luminous beams, suddenly erupted in a blaze of flames. Rita Skeeter leapt to her feet, frantically attempting to rescue her prized crocodile skin hand-bag and her trusty quill, which had been resting upon the table’s surface, from the flame. However, the flames were so intense that, in the blink of an eye, all her possessions had been reduced to mere ashes.

Mere moments later, the flames dissipated as abruptly as they had appeared, leaving the glass coffee table and the potted plant adorning its surface wholly intact. As a gentle breeze wafted through the room, the remaining ashes swirled and danced, ultimately escaping through the balcony railing and disappearing from sight entirely.

“How dare you do this, Watson!”

Rita Skeeter, who had interviewed countless famous wizards in her career, had never encountered such brazen audacity. She glared at Bryan with a malicious look.

“Watson, you will pay for your actions, I swear, you will be ruined!”

“Leave, Skeeter, I have other things to attend to, so I won’t personally see you out–“

With a casual wave of his hand, the door to the room swung open automatically, and Bryan calmly uttered his dismissal.

If Rita Skeeter understood the operating rules behind the peaceful and harmonious facade of the wizarding world, both on the surface and underground, she would not have done anything foolish out of impulse. If she was not clear-headed enough, she would not only ruin her career, but also face a fate as bad as or worse than that guy who was also a best-selling author.

Rita Skeeter left angrily, slamming the door shut as she left.

Bryan just shook his head lightly and proceeded to his desk, where he resumed composing the reply he had been forced to interrupt.

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