January always seemed a bit dull. Skyl's life went on as usual: he attended classes now and then, and his days stayed calm and orderly. His classmates, however, were like grey rabbits that had suddenly scented the coming depth of winter—more tense, walking faster, scurrying along the road of hoarding knowledge. In June, the fifth-years would be sitting their O.W.L.s, and everyone wanted to do well—or at least avoid complete humiliation.
Among Skyl's roommates, model student Percy was the cleverest grey rabbit in the whole forest. He planned to sit twelve O.W.L.s—the full set of Hogwarts subjects. His dream was to earn twelve Os (Outstanding). Only a handful of students in Hogwarts history had ever managed such an honour.
"de Lin, how many are you going to take?"
"I don't like exams. If I could, I wouldn't take a single one."
The others burst out laughing—but as they laughed, their smiles slowly froze on their faces.
Skyl said, "There's someone standing behind me, isn't there?"
Percy nodded.
"It's our most elegant and beautiful, universally adored Head of House, Professor McGonagall, isn't it?"
Skyl's joke made Professor McGonagall chuckle. She pressed her lips together in a brief smile, then quickly grew serious again.
"Mr de Lin, if you would come with me, please."
Percy and the others all pulled helplessly exaggerated faces at Skyl, the very picture of "we'd like to help, but there's nothing we can do."
Professor McGonagall had that distinct air of a strict form teacher. Whenever Skyl saw her, he was reminded of his days as a trainee teacher before he crossed worlds. He respected educators like her.
"Professor, what can I do for you?"
"Your paper has caused quite a stir. One particularly talented witch has already proved your fundamental Transfiguration law. The Daily Prophet wants to ride this wave and a reporter has come to interview you."
"I'm not interested in interviews."
"Even if you intend to refuse, you should do so to their face. Otherwise, it's discourteous. You don't want people thinking you're arrogant—that would only make it harder for you to make friends later on."
"You've convinced me."
"And another thing, Mr de Lin: I know your mastery of magic is very advanced, but you still need to sit your exams. Your qualifications will be the proof of your time studying at Hogwarts. Years from now, when you look back on these days, you'll be glad you made the effort."
"Very well."
Professor McGonagall visibly brightened, glowing with the joy of leading a wayward boy back onto the right path. "How many subjects do you plan to sit?"
"If I'm going to take them, I might as well take them all."
"That's excellent. So you will be coming to class, won't you?"
Skyl: …
"You will be coming to class, won't you?"
In the end, the matter of his chronic truancy was papered over. After all, transfer students did get certain… privileges.
They arrived at an empty classroom where the reporter had been waiting for some time.
The instant the door opened, Skyl saw a ball of garishly coloured yarn—no, not yarn, but a woman's exploding perm. Her hair was crammed with bejewelled clips, making her look like a cactus hung with cheap decorations. Her face was not young and not beautiful, and what features she had were obliterated beneath oversized sunglasses, blood-red lipstick, and skin pitted with spots.
Skyl could scarcely find a single angle from which to praise her looks. She was neither beautiful enough to stir the heart nor ugly enough to win pity, and her outfit was just as unfortunate. You could call her a 360-degree blind spot of a middle-aged witch, a tragic example of someone who had misread every fashion trend she'd ever met.
"Rita. Rita Skeeter. And you must be the marvellous Transfiguration wizard, Hogwarts' most outstanding student, Mr de Lin. Darling, at last we meet."
The reporter put on a vivid demonstration of what a truly overblown fake smile looked like. The corners of her mouth hooked up high, baring two rows of magically whitened teeth, the gums a queasy pale grey. Even the Joker of Gotham City would have to concede defeat before that ghastly grin.
"Hello. Just call me de Lin," Skyl said. He did not judge by appearances—even though he had to admit this reporter's styling was testing his composure.
A young photographer stood at Rita's side. The moment Skyl walked in, he hurriedly snapped a picture. "Mr de Lin, you're definitely going to be front page. Could you strike a cool pose for me?"
"Let's put the posing aside for now. I haven't even decided whether I'll accept your interview."
As Skyl spoke, the self-writing quill at Rita's elbow had already started scribbling furiously. She clearly had no intention of letting a single scrap of gossip slip through her fingers.
Professor McGonagall didn't leave. She sat off to one side and warned Rita, "I'll be watching you. Don't try to coax my student into making any 'special' remarks, and don't think of forcing him to go against his will. Otherwise you can forget about ever setting foot in Hogwarts again."
Skyl inclined his head to her. "Thank you, Professor. I can handle it." He turned to Rita, who was all smiles. "Now, tell your annoying Quick-Quotes Quill there to stop spicing up our first meeting."
Rita's fake smile faltered. "This is my work, darling. And you see, I'm only writing compliments." She shook the roll of parchment the quill had already filled to a foot in length, with no intention of letting anyone read it—but Skyl gave a small wave of his hand and the draft flew straight into his grasp.
Rita shrieked, "Please do not interrupt our interview, Mr de Lin!"
"Shh. A little quieter." Skyl was perfectly polite.
Professor McGonagall pointed out firmly that Skyl had every right to review the interview notes. Rita tried to argue, but Skyl had already started reading.
The article began: "Today, the ravishing, irresistibly charming beauty Rita Skeeter, armed with her fearless quill that strikes at evil and exposes the truth, graces the ancient halls of Hogwarts Castle…"
Skyl truly had no idea what to say about the phrase "ravishing, irresistibly charming." As a professional wizard, he never laughed in situations where it was inappropriate to do so—unless he couldn't help it. Professor McGonagall's expression had darkened. She heard exactly what Rita was aiming at.
Rita's false smile was crumbling. Her stiff face now looked more like a slab of dead-white frozen pork fat.
Skyl read on.
"…the hottest newcomer in the field of Transfiguration, de Lin, wears an expression of deeply biased arrogance. His ugly demeanour shatters his gentlemanly façade. This is only to be expected, given that he has risen to fame at such a young age. But we cannot help entertaining one possibility. In truth, every fame-seeking fraud trembles before Rita's mighty pen. And when faced with—"
Professor McGonagall could stand no more. She rose to her feet. "That's enough. We're leaving. The interview is over." She rounded on Rita, her voice cutting. "If you don't understand the achievements of a particular field, then kindly refrain from shooting your mouth off. Mr de Lin's contribution to Transfiguration is genuinely groundbreaking. He is a Transfiguration master, not a mere 'newcomer'. There is nothing in his record that you have the right to smear."
Skyl flicked the parchment in his hand. A tongue of flame flashed and the slanderous text crumbled to ash in an instant.
Rita tried to persuade them to stay, but she clearly didn't produce anything resembling sincerity. As her subject walked further and further away, she shrieked, furious, "Get back here! You're insulting a professional journalist! I will certainly report the arrogance of Hogwarts students exactly as it is! Aren't you afraid of disgracing your school?!"
At the classroom door, Skyl stopped and turned to Rita, his voice almost tranquil. "You see, I usually give people one chance. Don't waste it. Don't let my kindness go to waste. You won't get a second opportunity to say the wrong thing."
On the way back, Professor McGonagall tried to comfort Skyl, telling him not to worry and not to let the slander of small-minded people upset him.
"Professor, there's no need to say all that. I'm not a child."
Solemn as ever, her eyes still shone with irrepressible warmth. "Mr de Lin, don't put too much pressure on yourself. You're still just a student. I'll go and warn Rita Skeeter again. I won't allow her to publish those smear pieces about you. I regret not refusing this interview outright. Rita has a bad reputation. Even when she was at Hogwarts herself, she always loved to show off and cause a stir."
"You can't teach every student well. But don't worry about me, and don't pity Rita. She'll get everything she wants—and when that moment comes, she simply won't exist in your world anymore."
At the time, Professor McGonagall found Skyl's words rather odd. The tense he used was not one people normally chose. She assumed he'd simply misspoken and didn't think any more of it.
Time passed quietly, day after day, and everything stayed calm.
Until, one week after that unhappy interview, on a Monday morning, the Daily Prophet ran a front-page article attacking Skyl.
The headline read: "Genius or Fraud? The Transfer Student's True Face!" The writer and interviewer: Rita Skeeter.
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