"Clark, I'll use a shorthand quill to take notes, you won't object, will you? So I can have my hands free and talk to you normally......"

As she said this, Rita Skeeter had pulled out a long, dazzling green quill and a roll of parchment from her crocodile leather handbag.

"Please." Clark stretched out his hand and made a casual gesture.

When Rita Skeeter heard this, the smile on her face became even more obvious, and the three gold teeth in her mouth were revealed.

She spread the parchment on the table between the two, then shoved the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it tastefully for a while, and then placed the pen vertically on the parchment.

The quill tube rests on the nib, trembling slightly.

"Experiment...... My name is Rita Skeeter, and I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet. ”

As she spoke, the green quill pen fluttered, the tip of the pen deftly gliding across the parchment.

The charming blonde Rita Skeeter, now forty-three years old, with her unruly quill, has exposed many flashy false names -

"Huh!" Clark chuckled, "It's a very delicate activation alchemy, this thing must be expensive, right?" ”

"yes," Rita Skitz nodded, "it's a custom-made alchemy prop. ”

With that, she tore off the first piece of parchment, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag.

Then, she leaned over to Clark and said, "So, Clark...... What made you decide to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament? ”

"Hmm-" Clark opened his mouth, but his attention was quickly drawn to the quill.

Although he didn't speak, the pen whizzed across the parchment, and where the tip of the pen slid over, Clark made out a new line of text:

Fighting for honor has always been Clark Prewitt's motto.

This young man, who was not yet fifteen years old, had a handsome and charming face, and when he said this, his beautiful dark golden eyes revealed—

"Is it okay to write like that, Clark?" Rita Skeeter asked flatteringly, "If I'm not satisfied, I can change it." You can rest assured that the official draft will be reviewed for you before it comes out. ”

Clark nodded noncommittally, in fact, she didn't need to say it, but as long as the report involved him, it would appear on his desk before the script was sent out.

After all, who made him the majority shareholder of the "Pre-Home Daily".

Although Rita Skeeter is known for her scathing and spicy phrases to satirize the powerful, she is actually smart and knows who can and can't.

Even if she is a big reporter and a big writer, in front of capital, she is just a tool person who can be called around.

"Tell us how you feel about the upcoming event," Rita Skeeter continued, "is it excitement?" Still nervous? ”

"Maybe others will be nervous and excited, but for me, it's already a small thing." Clark said lightly.

Rita Skeeter raised a heavily drawn eyebrow, and she didn't expect that this young major shareholder of the "Pre-Home Daily" would be so arrogant.

Yes, although he is also a very arrogant person, in Rita Skeeter's cognition, this teenager can even pretend to be better than herself.

However, she was not defeated by this small setback, and continued to ask relentlessly, "It is said that in the past few Triwizard Tournaments, warriors have lost their lives, have you ever thought about this?" ”

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't participate in the previous sessions." Clark said it for granted.

"Ahem—ahem—"

The quill slid across the parchment between the two, but it slid much slower, not as smooth as it had been before.

"Of course, you've been through a lot of dangerous things in the past, haven't you?" Rita Skeeter asked again, staring at him intently, "For example, against a vicious dark wizard, against a powerful monster, or against an evil werewolf?" ”

"Looks like you've investigated me thoroughly." Clark looked at her with a smile.

"It's a journalist's job to know the information of the interviewee." Rita Skeeter explained.

"So, you signed up for the Triwizard Tournament this time with a lot of confidence, right?"

Clark nodded.

"So what do you think is the biggest threat to you in this fight?"

Clark smiled and shook his head, and as soon as he looked down, he saw the words that the quill had just written:

Regarding this matchup, Clark said that he was going all out.

Although the other warriors are very powerful, in Clark's opinion, they are not invulnerable, and they still have the strength to fight.

If Bagman were to see that this guy who has always taken pleasure in distorting facts and likes to make things up can still write such words, his jaw will definitely drop.

But that's the way it is, it's as if you never know how humble your goddess can be when she licks a dog to others.

However, being a licking dog is not so easy, and Rita Skeeter is ready to continue her efforts and continue to interview Clark.

But before she could speak, Dumbledore had already walked down the stairs from the second floor, accompanied by several other referees and an old man.

"Dumbledore!"

Rita Skeeter said aloud, looking overjoyed—as if she could finally get out of this awkward situation.

Clark noticed that her quill and parchment had suddenly disappeared from the table, as her claw-like fingers hurriedly buckled the clasp of her crocodile-skin handbag.

"How are you?"

Rita Skita said, standing up and holding out a large, manly hand to Dumbledore, "Have you read my summer article about the International Council of Wizards?" ”

"Nope." Dumbledore said with a smile, not shaking her hand.

"Really? I don't believe it. Rita Skita naturally withdrew her hand and asked with a smile, "I remember I sent you one, why didn't you see it?" ”

"Oh, that must have been disposed of by Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore replied with a smile, "I've been busy visiting old friends all summer and communicating with them, so I haven't read your article." ”

"Of course, I think it must be something unimportant, and I usually have the Vice-Chancellor, Professor McGonagall, handle the letters that are not important."

Clark saw Rita Skita's smile visibly stiffen, but continued to say unashamedly:

"I just wanted to point out that some of your views are a bit outdated, Dumbledore, and many wizards out there—"

"I'd love to hear your frank reasoning, Rita," Dumbledore smiled and politely interrupted, "but I'm afraid we'll have to talk about it later, and the wand detection ritual is about to begin." ”

As he spoke, Dumbledore waved his hand and motioned for a few warriors to sit on the chairs in the center of the classroom.

Clark and the others hurriedly sat down, and in front of them was a velvet table, where four of the five referees were already seated—Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxim, Mr. Crouch, and Ludo Bagman.

Rita Skeeter also found a corner to sit down, and Clark saw her stealthily pull the roll of parchment from her handbag, spread it on her lap, smack the tip of the shorthand quill pen, and place it upright on the parchment again.

"Allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivanders."

After everyone was seated, Dumbledore also sat down in the referee's bench and said to the Warriors, "He's going to check your wands to make sure they're in good shape before the game." ”

Standing on the edge of the referee's bench, the old wizard with two large light eyes smiled and nodded to the four warriors, Clark had seen this Mr. Ollivander - it was from the wandsmith who had received his custom-made wand from Diagon Alley three years ago.

"Miss Delacour, will you come first?" Mr. Ollivander said, walking to the clearing in the center of the room.

Fleur Delacour walked lightly over to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Uh-huh......" he said.

He swirled his wand between his slender fingers as if he were fiddling with his baton, and the tip of his wand spewed out many pink and gold sparks.

Then he held his wand close to his eyes and carefully held it.

"Not bad," he said softly, "nine and a half inches...... Strong is good...... Made of maple wood...... It contains...... Oh my God......"

"There's a baby's hair," Fleur said with a little pride, "it's my grandmother's hair." ”

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivanders, "yes, of course, I have never used the hair of a baby myself. I think the wand made of the baby's hair is too sensitive and willful...... However, everyone has their own hobbies, since it suits you......"

Mr. Ollivander ran his wand through his fingers, apparently checking it for abrasions and bruises. Then, he whispered, "Orchids are blooming!" ”

A bouquet of flowers blooms on the wand head.

"Good, good, in good shape," said Mr. Ollivanders, gathering the flowers and handing them to Fleur with his wand, "Mr. Bruce, it's your turn." ”

Fleur returned to her seat with a brisk step, smiling at Bruce as she passed him.

"Ah, this is supposed to be Shikoba?? Wolff's product, isn't it? ”

When Bruce handed the wand over, Mr. Ollivander said, much more excited than he had just been.

"Yes, I know him, one of the four most famous staff makers in North America.

He is said to be a descendant of the Choctaw (a Native American tribe) and is known for his intricate wand carving.

Thirteen and a quarter of an inch...... Made of black prickly pear wood...... The soft and hard are moderate, it is a good helper in battle, and the condition is also excellent...... Do you care for it regularly? ”

"Just wiped it last night." Bruce said with a smile.

"Let me see the rod core...... Yes...... It turned out to be ...... Ptarmigan feathers, this is the first time I've seen them. It seems that this thing is only available in the United States, and it is rare in the United Kingdom. ”

Mr. Ollivander looked at Bruce's wand in amazement, as if he had seen some playful toy.

"But too, Shikoba?? Wolfe's favorite thing about using the feathers of the Thunderbird as the core of his wand is very powerful, and although difficult to master, it is extremely suitable for Transfiguration charms, especially for Transfigurers. ”

Mr. Ollivander waved his wand, and an abandoned chair in the corner instantly turned into a brightly colored macaw, flapping its wings and making a strange call.

Satisfied, he said, "Sure enough, Mr. Krum, it's your turn." ”

Victor Krum stood up, drooping his round shoulders and stumbling his feet, and walked listlessly towards Mr. Ollivander.

He slipped his wand over and stood there with a frown, his hands in the pockets of his robe.

"Well," said Mr. Ollivanders, "if I'm not mistaken, it's a product of Grigovich." He's a great wandsmith, though I don't really ...... his style But ......"

He raised his wand and flipped it upside down in front of his eyes, examining it carefully.

"That's right...... Hornbeam wood, which contains the tendinous cord of the dragon's heart, right? He glanced at Krum, who nodded, "Much thicker than you're usually seen...... Very hard...... It's powerful...... Ten and a quarter of an inch...... Flock of birds! ”

The hornbeam wand thumped like a pistol, and a flock of birds flapped their wings out of the wand and into the faint sunlight through the open window.

"Very well," Mr. Ollivander handed the wand back to Krum, "and the last one...... Mr. Prewitt. ”

Clark stood up, brushed shoulders with Krum, and walked over to Mr. Ollivanders, handing over his wand.

"Huh?!" Ollivander let out a startled sound.

"This wand...... It's not the one I sold you, is it? Ollivander asked, puzzled, "I think what I sold you was a wand nine inches long, made of beech wood, and the nerves of birds and snakes, but what about that wand?" ”

"A few months ago, it was damaged in an accident," Clark said helplessly, "and there are no bones left." ”

It's really the kind where there are no bones, or the kind where you can't find any wood slag.

After all, it and Clark's clothes and pants all disappeared into the time vortex of the dragon farm a few months ago.

"That's a pity," Ollivander said regretfully, "the Bird Snake Nerve is a very rare rod core, and it was your grandfather who asked me to customize it for you when you were born." ”

"Speaking of which, this must be your grandfather's wand," Ollivander asked, "eleven inches long, applewood, unicorn tail hair, uncharacteristic, but very tolerant." ”

Clark nodded, but Mr. Ollivander persuaded.

"It doesn't exclude you much, but everyone's wand is unique, and it doesn't bring out all that you can do.

If you have time, I'd suggest you take a trip to Diagon Alley and choose a wand that works for you. ”

As he spoke, Mr. Ollivander made his wand squirt out a puff of wine before handing it back to Clarke, announcing that it was in very good condition.

"Thank you," Dumbledore stood up at the referee's table, "now you can go back to class—maybe it would be more convenient to go straight down to dinner, they'll be out of class soon—"

"By the way, Clark please stay for a moment."

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