Harry Potter with Technology System

Ch370- Little Insect

"Thank you all," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat at the judges' table. "You may return to your lessons—though at this hour, heading straight to dinner might be the more practical choice."

Harry stood, ready to leave, when the photographer suddenly jumped up, clearing his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore, photos!" Bagman said eagerly, rubbing his hands together.

"Yes, let’s start with the group shots," Rita Skeeter added, already angling herself toward Harry. "Then perhaps some individual ones." Her quill twitched expectantly, hovering near her notebook.

The process dragged on longer than necessary. Madame Maxime dominated the frame no matter where she stood, forcing the photographer to shuffle around the room in frustration. Eventually, she had to sit while everyone else gathered around her. Karkaroff preened, twisting his goatee between his fingers like he was trying to sculpt it into something impressive. Krum, despite his international fame, stayed in the back, half-hidden as if hoping no one would notice him.

The photographer kept nudging Fleur to the front, clearly eager to center her in the shot, but Rita had other ideas. She kept pulling Harry forward, her bright red nails digging into his sleeve as she positioned him closer to the middle.

Harry casually stepped back, planting himself next to Krum behind Fleur, effectively undoing her efforts. Rita’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but she forced a smile and let it go—for now.

The camera flashed repeatedly, leaving spots in Harry’s vision.

"Now, let’s do some solo shots," the photographer announced, turning to Harry before anyone else.

Rita’s grin sharpened as she stepped forward. "Yes, let’s start with our youngest, most fascinating champion."

Harry didn’t move. "I think we’re done."

Rita blinked, caught off guard by the immediate refusal. "Oh, come now, Harry, just a few more—"

"No need," he said simply. He glanced at Bagman. "Are we finished?"

Bagman hesitated, but seeing Harry’s expression, he clapped his hands together. "Right, right! That should be enough, I suppose! Off you go, then!"

The champions dispersed quickly. Fleur gave Rita an unimpressed glance before sweeping past her. Krum nodded slightly at Harry before slipping out the door without a word.

Rita, however, wasn’t done. She caught up to Harry as he exited the room, her quill already scratching against her notepad.

"Harry, dear, just a few words—"

"No comment."

She laughed, unfazed. "Oh, don’t be like that. The public wants to know how you feel about competing, especially since you’re so… uniquely placed in this tournament."

"Uniquely placed," Harry repeated flatly. "Interesting way to describe."

Rita Skeeter tried to steer Harry toward a quieter corner, her jeweled nails pressing lightly against his arm as she gestured toward a nearby supply closet.

Harry didn’t move. His gaze flicked to her hand before meeting her eyes. “That’s rather inappropriate, don’t you think, Ms. Skeeter?”

Rita scoffed, withdrawing her hand as if she hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak a fourteen-year-old into a cramped space. “Oh, don’t be dramatic, dear. It’s just for privacy.”

Harry didn’t bother responding, and after a second, she seemed to take the hint, straightening her spine and smoothing out her ridiculous magenta robes. Her smile sharpened, though, as she tilted her head. “Tell me, Harry—how did you put your name in?”

Harry chuckled, the sound entirely devoid of humor. “I didn’t.”

Her quill twitched in the air, scribbling something down even before he’d finished speaking. “So you’re suggesting foul play?”

“Not at all,” Harry said easily. “Only that I didn’t put my name in. That much has already been discussed with the judges.”

“Mm,” Rita hummed, watching him closely. “And how do you feel about the tasks ahead? Excited? Nervous?”

Harry didn’t even blink. “No.”

Her grin widened. “Champions have died in the past, haven’t they?” she pressed. “Have you thought about that at all?”

“No.”

She laughed it off. "Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" Rita Skeeter said, her eyes sharp as they studied him. "How would you say that's affected you? Can you remember your parents at all?"

Harry pulled out his wand. In an instant, Rita’s enchanted quill and notebook burst into flames. She gasped, stepping back as the ashes fluttered to the ground. Before she could recover, Harry leaned in, his voice quiet but cutting.

"Rita Skeeter," he said, his green eyes locked onto hers. "Choose your next words very carefully. It’s very easy to squish a beetle."

His fingers pinched the air ever so slightly.

Rita froze. It was only for a fraction of a second, but Harry caught it. A flicker of alarm, quickly buried under layers of practiced charm. She was good—years of twisting words and playing her little games had given her a mask thick enough to fool most people. But Harry wasn’t most people.

He leaned back, slipping his wand away as if he merely adjusted his sleeve. "Interview’s over."

Rita forced a smile, though it was stiffer than before. "Well now, no need to be so dramatic, dear," she said, dusting imaginary soot from her sleeve. "It’s just a few harmless questions. The public is interested in you, after all."

"Then they can wait for the tournament," Harry said, already turning away.

Her quill was gone, her notebook destroyed, and more importantly—she knew he knew. That was enough for today.

Rita didn’t follow him as he walked off. He could feel her stare on his back, but he didn’t care. Let her think on that for a while.

By the time Harry reached the Great Hall, the usual dinner rush had already begun. The four long tables were packed, the air filled with chatter, clinking cutlery, and the occasional burst of laughter. He slid into his usual seat at the Slytherin table, where Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, Ginny, Hermione, Luna, Susan , Hannah and Astoria were already in the middle of some debate over who had the best odds in the tournament. Across were Neville, Weasley Twins, Draco, Theodore, Blaise and Cedric. 

Daphne glanced at Harry as he sat between her and Tracey. “How did the Wand Weighing go?”

Tracey smirked before Harry could answer. “Let me guess. Rita Skeeter tried to sink her claws into you?”

Harry picked up a roll and tore it in half. “She tried.”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. Any damage?”

“She won’t be writing anything too interesting.” Harry buttered the roll, not elaborating.

Tracey leaned in, interested. “Oh? What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Harry said lightly. “Just a friendly conversation.”

Daphne raised a brow. “The kind where she conveniently forgets everything she planned to write?”

Harry shrugged, taking a bite of his food.

Across the table, Blaise snorted. “She’s going to write something ridiculous anyway. You could say three words to her, and she would twist it into a tragic tale about your suffering.”

“Or some nonsense about your secret love life,” Pansy added, stabbing a piece of chicken with unnecessary force.

“I would pay good money to see what she comes up with,” Fred said from further down the table. “Something dramatic. ‘Harry Potter: Cursed Twice by Fate and the Goblet of Fire!’”

George grinned. “‘Forced into a life-threatening tournament, yet still the most eligible bachelor in Hogwarts!’”

“Terrifying,” Harry deadpanned.

Ginny smirked. “You say that, but half the school already thinks you have some tragic romance going on.”

Hermione sighed. “Why does everything have to turn into gossip? The real issue is that Harry’s name was in the Goblet twice. That’s what we should be focusing on.”

Harry shrugged, tearing off another piece of bread. “Being amazing has its downsides.”

Everyone at the table groaned, but Pansy smirked. “I was half tempted to crash your little meeting with Skeeter.”

Harry chuckled. “She would put you on the front page and call you my secret lover.”

Pansy tossed a grape at him. “If I have to be in the Prophet, I would rather it be for something more interesting than standing next to you.”

Tracey grinned. “I don’t know. ‘Mysterious Slytherin Heiress Steals Potter’s Heart’ has a nice ring to it.”

Daphne scoffed. “More like ‘Boy-Who-Lived Caught in Scandalous Affair with Slytherin Beauty.’”

Fred leaned over the table. “You lot really underestimate Skeeter. She would spin it into something truly tragic. ‘Harry Potter, Cursed by Fate and Forbidden Love.’”

Astoria giggled impishly. "Seems to me it's a harem more than a secret love affair."

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