Chapter 326. The Intruder at Hogwarts
Harry and the others had class in the afternoon and soon left Hagrid's hut.
However, barely half a minute after they left, a commotion suddenly rose outside.
"What's going on?" Hagrid, by the window, stuck his head out for a look. "Oh, wait—who's stopped Harry and the others?"
"Who?"
"A woman," Hagrid judged after peering closely.
Adrian Wesson set down his teacup, his brows knitting. "I'll go and see."
He stepped out of the hut at a brisk pace and, from a distance, saw a woman dripping with jewels blocking Harry's group.
That gaudy green robe flashed in the sunlight with an offensive glare.
With that get-up, who else could it be but Rita Skeeter?
As Wesson drew closer, Rita's saccharine voice immediately reached his ears.
"—As a champion of the Triwizard Tournament, Mr Potter, how does it feel to have taken first place in the first task? Especially when the other contestants are—"
"Ahem!"
Wesson's light cough cut off the ambush interview.
Harry turned his head as though delivered, and relaxed when he saw who'd come.
"Professor Wesson," he reported at once, "there's an outsider who's broken into the school!"
"Hogwarts forbids any outsider from entering the grounds, Madam Intruder."
Wesson's eyes settled on Rita, open disgust in them.
Rita Skeeter's smile froze on her face; even the Quick-Quotes Quill halted its scribbling.
But only a few seconds later, she quickly rearranged her expression—basic professional training for any reporter.
"This is hardly an intrusion, dear," she said in a sickly tone. "Merely a routine interview, and our little champion hasn't explicitly refused—"
"I did refuse!"
Harry retorted in disgust.
He was thoroughly fed up with this pestering reporter—she came to harass him once or twice almost every year, then splashed up his affairs in the papers with embellishments.
Which had led, even to this day, to people thinking he had some murky, strange relationship with Ron and Hermione!
"Very well, you little imp, you win," Rita's smile didn't budge. "It seems now isn't a good time for an interview. We'll make another appointment. Goodbye."
With that, she gracefully put away her quill and that brand-new notebook, and made as if to turn and leave.
"Wait."
Wesson's voice wasn't loud, yet it blocked her path like an invisible barrier.
"Ms Skeeter," he said unhurriedly, "I think you've forgotten something. Hogwarts is not a place you come and go as you please."
Rita's smile finally wavered. "Professor, what do you mean by that? I merely—"
Wesson chuckled and cut her off.
"Unauthorised entry onto school grounds, harassment of underage witches and wizards… and most importantly—"
His voice turned suddenly cold.
"Bringing a suspected Dark wizard into the school! I don't know how you managed it, but you should know this is extremely serious! It might even earn you a stint in Azkaban."
Wesson's voice wasn't loud, but it crashed like thunder in everyone's ears.
In an instant, an unprecedented flicker crossed Rita's eyes.
She stammered, "I… I don't know what you're talking about…"
Wesson's wand snapped to the empty space behind her. "Homenum Revelio!"
A flash of blinding blue light shot out, and a blurred human outline shimmered into view in the air.
It was a man in a black cloak and sunglasses, creeping away on tiptoe.
The moment he realised he'd been discovered, his form wavered—and he dissolved into a wisp of black smoke that dispersed into the air. Wesson's wand whipped, but he snared only a trailing thread of that smoke.
"Apparition? No…" Wesson narrowed his eyes. "Dark magic. And the distance doesn't seem far."
"Who was that!?" Harry asked, tense.
"You should ask Ms Skeeter," Wesson told him. "Keep an eye on her! I'm going after him."
Harry nodded solemnly.
"I don't know," Rita protested shrilly. "I don't know that man! This has nothing to do with me!"
"Save it for the Aurors," Wesson replied mercilessly.
A piercing cry rang out from the sky.
Under everyone's gaze, Rai stooped like a bolt of lightning.
Wesson leapt and landed steadily on the Thunderbird's back.
"Take Skeeter to Dumbledore!" he shouted over his shoulder.
At once, the Thunderbird let out a keen cry and bore Wesson away at speed toward the Forbidden Forest.
In a heartbeat, only four students and the ashen-faced Rita Skeeter were left at the scene.
"What do we do?" Ron swallowed nervously, keeping a wary eye on Rita.
"Do as Professor Wesson said," Hermione replied.
"Let me go!"
Rita suddenly shrieked, and took off at a run while they were unprepared.
Her high heels thudded and skidded over the grass, yet she ran surprisingly fast.
A witch, at a time like this, actually running on foot.
Truly speechless.
Harry was thinking that as he drew his wand. "Incarcerous!"
At the fall of the incantation, a rope shot from his wand tip and wrapped neatly around Rita's legs.
She screamed and crashed to the ground, her notebook and quill scattering over the grass.
"Nice one!" Ron whooped.
Hermione also let out a breath.
As for Neville—he was nearly scared witless.
"Let me go!" Rita snarled from the ground, her face twisted. "You've no proof—this is unlawful detainment! It's against the law!"
Naturally, no one paid her shouts any mind.
Harry felt an unaccustomed sense of satisfaction—this obnoxious nuisance was finally in their grasp.
And… judging by the looks of it, what she'd done was no small matter.
Though, as Rita said, they currently had no proof that the man who'd escaped had been brought in by her.
But once Wesson caught that man, everything would be clear.
On that point, Harry had no doubt.
In his memory, Wesson had never botched anything.
This time would be no exception.
"All right, you three," he said to his mates, "give me a hand. Wands out—we'll use the Levitation Charm to take her to the Headmaster's office."
The three obeyed Harry's instructions and drew their wands.
Harry hesitated, then turned to Neville. "Neville, put your wand down. I'm afraid you might hurt her."
Neville's taut face eased.
But he still wanted to be useful, so he silently picked up the fallen quill and notebook.
The quill struggled in his hand, as if unwilling to be held.
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