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"Weasley!"
Snape suddenly shouted, startling Ron, who had been staring at Dudley's cauldron and swallowing constantly.
Snape walked up to Ron and took out a pill.
"Eat this."
"Yes, Professor."
Ron knew he had just annoyed Snape. Now was absolutely not the time to argue with him. He obediently took the pill and swallowed it in one gulp.
Afterward, he smacked his lips. His mouth carried a faint bitter-almond taste. It was not especially good.
The moment he thought of the word good, his gaze drifted involuntarily toward the pot of soup. If only he could have a bowl.
Not much. Just one bowl would be enough.
Saliva kept gathering in his mouth.
What should he do? He wanted to eat it so badly.
He could ask Brother D to make him a separate bowl later.
"What was that, Professor?"
Only after a while did Ron remember to ask Snape.
"Poison."
Snape stated it plainly, his answer short and direct.
Ron stared at him as if his brain had stopped working.
"Since Dursley says what he made is an antidote, and he now has to attend the champions' meeting, you can test it on his behalf."
"You are companions, are you not?"
Ron tried to stick his fingers down his throat and vomit the pill back out, but the pill had melted the moment it entered his mouth and had long since flowed down his throat.
Snape placed the soup Dudley had given him in front of Ron.
"Of course, if Dursley failed, we will have no choice but to collect Mr. Weasley's remains. Do not worry. We will place your ashes in a box and bury them in Hogwarts's back garden. I imagine everyone will remember you that way."
At that moment, Ron went green, and his mood was terrible.
Snape's face, however, returned from black to normal. Even the space between his brows relaxed. He was in an excellent mood.
Did you think you were Dursley? Daring to sleep in Severus Snape's class.
This was only a small punishment.
Yes. A Potions professor could not lose authority.
Dudley and Harry followed the younger student to a room. Aside from Viktor and Fleur, the other two champions, several other people were present. Beside Bagman stood a witch wearing heavy makeup and magenta robes: Rita Skeeter.
The star reporter of the Daily Prophet.
"Champions, please wait here for a moment," Bagman said. "Dumbledore is waiting for the other judges so the wand weighing ceremony can begin. Before that, you may accept an interview from Miss Skeeter. She is preparing a major story about the Triwizard Tournament."
Hearing this, Fleur asked in confusion, "Wand weighing?"
"Yes. Before the tournament officially begins, your wands must be checked to ensure they are in proper working order. They are your most important tools for the tasks."
"All right, everyone, I will go upstairs first. I hope you enjoy speaking with Miss Skeeter."
After giving his brief explanation, Bagman hurried upstairs, seeming very unwilling to stay there any longer.
"I did not expect our first meeting to be here, Mr. Dursley."
Rita Skeeter ignored the other champions completely. Her gaze remained fixed on Dudley, and her expression was a smile that was not quite a smile.
She had previously chased him for an interview, but Dudley had rejected her without mercy every time.
As for the reason, it was simple: Dudley disliked the Daily Prophet.
His conflict with the Daily Prophet could be traced back to his earliest submissions. Back then, the publisher under the Daily Prophet had clearly rejected Dudley's manuscript and belittled his work as worthless.
"May I speak with you alone? We can do a personal interview in the small room beside us. Of course, I would also like to interview the legendary Mr. Potter."
Rita Skeeter pointed toward the small room nearby and tried to make a smiling expression. Her tone was as polite as she could manage, but the thick powder on her face made the smile look strange.
"There is no need. What is there that cannot be said openly? Here is fine."
Dudley spoke calmly and showed no intention of standing. "Also, I do not need any interview. None."
Seeing Dudley give her no respect, Rita Skeeter badly wanted to drag him away by force. But after considering the enormous difference in their size, she abandoned the idea.
"Then... all right."
Rita Skeeter spoke unwillingly. She took out a Quick-Quotes Quill and a notebook and began the interview.
"Miss Skeeter."
Before the two of them had exchanged more than a few words, Dudley suddenly spoke. "I do not want words I never said to appear in tomorrow's Daily Prophet. Nor do I want baseless speculation about me in any form. Can you do that?"
Rita Skeeter nodded without thinking. "The Daily Prophet has always reported the facts."
"Is that so?" Dudley asked. "Are you certain?"
"Of course."
Unexpectedly, Dudley suddenly stood. Before she could react, he snatched the Quick-Quotes Quill and manuscript beside her.
"Then what is your quill writing?"
"I have barely said anything. Why are there five pages of copy already?"
Dudley's expression immediately darkened after a single glance.
'Dursley, Potter, and Granger's twisted triangle.'
'Scarhead: Past Life and Present Life.'
He knew it. This woman was inventing things about him.
"Give that back!"
Rita Skeeter tried to snatch the manuscript, but Dudley did not grant her wish.
"As the subject of the interview, I believe I have a right to know."
With two quick motions, Dudley tore the manuscript to pieces.
"Miss Rita Skeeter, I am formally warning you. Based on your dishonesty, I will not accept any form of interview from the Daily Prophet. If I see even a single false statement about me in the Daily Prophet..."
"I will be very happy to see you in the Wizengamot courtroom."
"Harry, I think we should go upstairs."
After saying this, he did not look at Rita Skeeter again. He casually tossed the scraps into the air. Countless pieces of paper ignited by themselves, then vanished without a trace as a breeze swept through.
Dudley had no interest in playing games with her, such as catching a "bug" and using it for blackmail. The contents written by the Quick-Quotes Quill had already angered him. If she still dared push further...
Then she could not say he had failed to warn her.
He was not Dumbledore. His temper was not that good. Worse, she had dragged in the two people most important to him: his brother and someone he cared about deeply.
Rita Skeeter's face turned livid. This was the first time in her career that she had been treated like this. Her bulging eyes stared venomously at Dudley's departing back.
So what if the manuscript had been torn up? She could write it again. She swore she would make him pay for today's behavior. Who was she? Rita Skeeter, the fearless reporter who claimed to "speak truth to power." What was there to fear from the threat of an underage wizard?
Even Minister for Magic Fudge had to show her some courtesy.
She had already decided how to take revenge.
Clearly, the Daily Prophet's sharpest quill had not taken Dudley's words seriously.
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