Who let this Dementor into Hogwarts!

Chapter 310 Interview? Then you've interviewed the right person.
"Wish ya'll good luck!"

Colin left after taking them into the makeshift wand testing room, offering words of encouragement before he left—though only Harry needed encouragement, of course.

"It would be embarrassing..." Harry said, his legs trembling, hesitating to push the door open.

"It'll be a hit for a while, and if you perform well, you can even get some advertising deals and make some money." Cohen was already fully in the zone. "Like I said before, since it's hard to resist, then just accept it."

Cohen pushed open the door. It was a small classroom, with most of the desks piled up at the back, leaving an open space.

Three desks were pushed together, side by side, and placed in front of the blackboard, covered with a long velvet blanket.

The scene looked exactly like a New Year's Eve party setup in a university classroom to Cohen.

The other three warriors sat around the three desks pushed together. Krum remained silent with a gloomy face, while Cedric seemed to be having a very pleasant conversation with Fleur.

Besides the Warriors, there were a few other familiar faces.

Mr. Crouch was talking to a woman wearing a magenta robe with her hair styled in exaggerated waves, while a photographer was constantly adjusting the angle and taking pictures.

"Now all the champions are here." Crouch turned to Cohen and Harry, who had just entered, and said meticulously, "Please take your seats as soon as possible. Next is the wand testing ceremony. The other referees will be here soon. They will check whether your wands are fully functional and in good working order."

“As for this one…” Crouch glanced at the woman beside him and briefly introduced her to Cohen and Harry, “This is Rita Skeeter, she’s writing for The Daily Prophet.”

“If you could reveal a little more, Batty.”

Rita, reeking of strong perfume, walked towards Cohen and Harry with a professional, fake smile.

"Before the testing begins, may I interview the controversial Little Warrior? You know, Batty, to... add some color to the article?"

"I have no right to interfere with the Warriors' choices," Crouch said in an extremely official tone. "It's up to them."

“Great, then…” Her eyes darted between Cohen and Harry—from a safety perspective, interviewing Harry first was clearly the better option.

But Rita Skeeter was never the kind of person who would forgo sensational news for the sake of safety; otherwise, she wouldn't have presented Dumbledore's rigid, mad old man side in the newspapers.

"You're the one, Cohen!"

She grabbed Cohen, her bright red, claw-like fingers gripping him tightly, and dragged him out of the room, opening another door next to it.

“We can’t stay in there, it’s too noisy… Let me see… This place is nice.”

She found a low-ceilinged broom shed. “Come on in, honey, it’s quiet here, perfect for an exclusive interview.”

Rita's face was full of curiosity; she clearly had no idea what was going to happen next.

As she spoke, she pressed Cohen down onto a cardboard box, then plopped herself down on an overturned bucket. Once both the interviewer and the interviewee were in place, Rita opened her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out a few candles, and waved her wand to make them float in the air, illuminating the small, enclosed space.

“I’ll use a shorthand quill pen to take notes, what do you think? You don’t object, do you?” Rita’s face was plastered with a sickeningly sweet smile. “That way I can free up my hands and have a normal conversation with you.”

“AI creation? That’s interesting…” Cohen stroked his chin.

Rita didn't care what Cohen meant by "ai"; she reached into her pocket and pulled out a long, shiny green quill pen and a roll of parchment.

After spreading the parchment on another box next to her, Rita put the tip of the quill pen in her mouth and sucked on it with relish for a while, then stood the quill pen upright on the parchment.

“Let’s try it out… My name is Rita Skeeter, a reporter for The Daily Prophet.” Rita spoke to the quill.

As soon as he finished speaking, the quill pen began to write swiftly and elegantly on the parchment.

[The glamorous blonde Rita Skeeter, 43, whose rebellious quill pen has exposed many empty and pretentious names...]
"What's wrong?" Rita saw Cohen open his mouth as if he was about to comment on something, and immediately seized the opportunity to ask.

About the Triwizard Tournament? About Azkaban? Or about...?

"As a journalist, isn't 43 years old too old for you?"

Cohen asked curiously,
"What I mean is, you don't seem to have found your other half either, spending your whole life chasing rumors and gossiping. Seeing those people you interviewed with having complete families, won't you start distorting the truth into something even more distorted out of jealousy during each interview...?"

[The young Cohen was brimming with curiosity about the reporter's private life during his first interview; clearly, the advanced age of forty-three held a certain allure for this young warrior—]
“This is very inappropriate.” Rita immediately pulled out the parchment and tore it into pieces. Her smile was now somewhat stiff. “Let’s get back to the main topic. So… what prompted you to decide to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament?”

“This actually involves a lot of things,” Cohen raised his eyebrows. “At first, I knew nothing about it…”

[The faint candlelight illuminated his pale yet handsome face, his dark pupils more profound and unfathomable than the deepest darkness of Azkaban. Under the reporter's coaxing, the previously aloof man finally revealed the worst and most sordid aspects of this competition…]
“I wouldn’t call myself cold-hearted, would I?” Cohen clicked his tongue.

“The key is the truth, forget about the pen, Cohen,” Rita said impatiently. “What prompted you to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament?”

“That’s the strange part,” Cohen said cooperatively. “I didn’t actually participate in the voting, but my name inexplicably appeared on the list, and the Ministry of Magic didn’t take any concrete action. Furthermore, Minister Fudge even asked me to continue participating—I suspect someone in the Ministry of Magic’s upper echelons set me up. If this can’t be exposed, then I can only say that capital wins—”

"This is no coincidence!" The youngest champion in Hogwarts history lowered his voice, a sinister glint in his eyes that belied his age. "I believe the Minister of Magic cast my name in the Goblet of Fire, after all, I witnessed him in the Quidditch match—"
(End of this chapter)