Matilda Matlock

Collect the Egg

Matilda sat on the edge of a firm cot within a large tent, hearing the distant roar of chants and cheers as she repeatedly bounced her knee and stared at the floor with queasiness coming in waves.

The sun was shining, the schools were excited, but Matilda was mentally drafting her will... she coiled her fingers tightly around her wand at her side.

"Matilda."

She looked up to see Cedric standing near her, wearing black and yellow robes and both a blank yet dark expression. Matilda straightened up and breathed in, staring at him back.

"H-how are you feeling?" the boy said quietly, fiddling with the sleeve of his uniform. 

Matilda raised her eyebrows sarcastically. "Brilliant, thanks for asking."

Cedric nodded awkwardly and sat on the opposite cot, leaning forward on his knees. He looked just as anxious as Matilda, the two of them sitting across from one another and remaining quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"Funny how we're both wearing yellow, yet our house is clearly bias towards one of us?" Matilda scoffed.

Cedric had a hint of sympathy on his face as he responded, "...yeah, erm... I suppose the houses don't matter much, I think it's really more of a..."

"Every man for themselves sort of thing," Matilda mumbled.

She perked her head up for a moment to say something else, but was promptly interrupted by the sound of a loud flash of a camera and flinched before turning her head to see what had happened.

A woman with a pile of bright blonde hair atop her head and glasses resting on the edge of her nose, with red-stained lips and dangling earrings as well as a deep, brown blazer type dress strolls into the tent grinning from ear to ear with her arms out. A man with a camera stood behind her, pointed right at Matilda, making it clear that she was the victim of the shot. 

"Ah, look what we have here?" the woman said, then stepped in front of Matilda and thus blocking Cedric's view of her, "Miss Matlock... what a pleasure."

"And you are?" asked Matilda sharply, not exactly in the mood to be bothered before fighting for her life against a dragon.

The woman juts out her hand, which is decorated with long red nails.

"Rita Skeeter," she says with a toothy smile. "Writer for the Daily Prophet, my dear... and I have just been eager to meet with you."

"Have you?" Matilda muttered irritably.

"Now, tell me, Matilda..." Rita began, then snapped her fingers behind her back for Cedric to move so she could sit down herself across from the girl, "...you must feel just a... hmm, what is it... a whirlwind of overwhelming emotion, yes?"

Matilda did not reply. Cedric scoffed under his breath.

"I mean, to only arrive at Hogwarts a mere few months ago, then be launched straight into such a dangerous tournament..." Rita sighed, "...after all you've been through, oh, you poor thing... I can see the glimmer of your parents' loss still in those young eyes... "

"That's enough," came a sudden deep voice behind the woman. Matilda turned to see Viktor standing tall behind her, a cold scowl on his face. "You are not welcome in this tent. It is only for champions."

Rita looked at the boy for a moment, then forced a sort of strained giggle before rising from the cot and looking Viktor up and down with a smirk.

"Well, no matter," she squeaked. "Wouldn't want to cause any distraction."

Then, to Matilda's great relief, the agitating journalist made her way out of the tent with her camera man by her side, leaving the champions alone again and now facing the Headmasters, as well as Barty Crouch, who have marched into the tent.