Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

he wasn’t speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake he could make out a fresh sentence:
     
    An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes –
     
    ‘Ignore the quill, Harry,’ said Rita Skeeter firmly. Reluctantly, Harry looked up at her instead. ‘Now – why did you decide to enter the Tournament, Harry?’
    ‘I didn’t,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn’t put it in there.’
    Rita Skeeter raised one heavily pencilled eyebrow. ‘Come now, Harry, there’s no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn’t really have entered at all. But don’t worry about that. Our readers love a rebel.’
    ‘But I didn’t enter,’ Harry repeated. ‘I don’t know who –’
    ‘How do you feel about the tasks ahead?’ said Rita Skeeter. ‘Excited? Nervous?’
    ‘I haven’t really thought … yeah, nervous, I suppose,’ said Harry. His insides squirmed uncomfortably as he spoke.
    ‘Champions have died in the past, haven’t they?’ said Rita Skeeter briskly. ‘Have you thought about that at all?’
    ‘Well … they say it’s going to be a lot safer this year,’ said Harry.
    The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forwards as though it was skating.
    ‘Of course, you’ve looked death in the face before, haven’t you?’ said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. ‘How would you say that’s affected you?’
    ‘Er,’ said Harry, yet again.
    ‘Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because –’
    ‘I didn’t enter,’ said Harry, starting to feel irritated.
    ‘Can you remember your parents at all?’ said Rita Skeeter, talking over him.
    ‘No,’ said Harry.
    ‘How do you think they’d feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?’
    Harry was feeling really annoyed now. How on earth was he to know how his parents would feel if they were alive? He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and looked down at the words the quill had just written.
     
    Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember.
     
    ‘I have NOT got tears in my eyes!’ said Harry loudly.
    Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Harry looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them squashed into the cupboard.
    ‘Dumbledore!’ cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight – but Harry noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess-Remover, and Rita’s clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag. ‘How are you?’ she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands to Dumbledore. ‘I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards’ Conference?’
    ‘Enchantingly nasty,’ said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. ‘I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat.’
    Rita Skeeter didn’t look remotely abashed. ‘I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in the street –’
    ‘I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita,’ said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, ‘but I’m afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard.’
    Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly next to Cedric, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were now sitting – Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr Crouch and Ludo Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Harry saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.
    ‘May I introduce Mr Ollivander?’ said Dumbledore, taking his place at the judges’ table, and talking to the champions.