UNDER HEAVY EDITING
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❛𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘏𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘭. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴�...
The camera flashed and white smoke came fizzing out. A woman with blond, short, curly hair, a green outfit, and round glasses appeared in the puff of smoke.
"What a charismatic quartet." She said looking at the four champions.
Fleur was sitting in a chair while Cedric and Harry were behind her with Viktor on the side. She walked over to them and shook each of their hands.
"I'm Rita Skeeter, I write for the Daily Prophet. But of course, you know that don't you." She paused for a second for a dramatic effect. "It's you we don't know, you're the juicy news. What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" Rita put her hand on Fleurs cheek and gave it a tiny slap causing Fleurs smile to falter.
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"What mysteries do the muscles mask?" She put her hand in Cedric's hair and ruffled it. I held my nose shaking violently trying not to laugh.
"Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick?"
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She grabbed Harry and Cedric in her arms. "Me, myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing? Mmm?" Everyone was silent.
"Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely." Rita grabbed Harry's arm violently and pulled him into a broom closet. Tears of joy were threatening from rolling down my face.
The doors opened and Dumbledore walked into the trophy room. I sniffed before walking over to him.
"How are the interviews going?" Dumbledore asked the champions.
"Ve 'ave not gone yet. Skeeter 'az taken 'Arry to zee back." Fleur replied.
Dumbledore nodded. "Oh, I see. Well if you don't mind I need to speak with Ms. Rosewood." He said turning around.
I smiled and gave a small wave to the champions before I followed Professor Dumbledore to an eagle statue where Dumbledore said a password, Cockroach Cluster. The eagle began to spin slowly and stairs began to rise. Dumbledore stood on one of the stairs and I went onto one a few steps down. We entered the Headmaster's office and I looked around. It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were chattering amongst themselves in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, which I assumed was Dumbledore's desk.
