"That's because Amando Dippet: Master or Moron? was published in 1992," Dylan explained slowly, his voice carrying a confident ring. "More precisely, it hit the shelves exactly two months after Headmaster Amando Dippet passed away."
"Two months? No, to be exact, it was seven weeks and three days," Rita couldn't stop the wide smile spreading across her face, and her voice rose several pitches, clearly viewing this as a moment of triumph. "Honestly, I wasn't entirely satisfied with that speed. I felt I could have been faster."
"But Headmaster Dippet's life spanned such a huge timeframe, from his enrollment to his time as Headmaster. Sorting out decades of material was the only thing that kept me from shaving off more time."
Dylan simply shrugged, having a perfect understanding of Rita's writing process.
She had written biographies for many famous people, and nearly all of them were rushed into print shortly after the person's death.
This approach served two purposes:
It drastically boosted sales by capitalizing on the public's immediate interest in the recently deceased celebrity.
It cleverly avoided unnecessary trouble, such as the person or their relatives challenging the book's content or suing her for libel. After all, once someone has passed, many disputes become moot.
Rita clearly realized Dylan had seen right through her, and her look of triumph diminished slightly, though she remained perfectly self-righteous. "Writing is all about seizing the moment! Should I wait for the readers to forget the person before leisurely publishing a book? That would be a disrespect to the craft."
"Besides," Dylan calmly added, looking at her self-justifying expression, "even if a relative sues for invasion of privacy or reputation, the damages they usually win are far less than what the person themselves could claim in a libel suit. You chose to publish after their death because you'd already factored in those risks."
"Ah..." Rita's eyes widened instantly at his words. Her Quick-Quotes Quill clattered onto the parchment, and she suddenly snapped back to attention, her self-righteousness replaced by pure excitement. "It seems our magical rising star is planning something after all! This is exactly what I excel at, and I would be absolutely delighted to help!"
The thought of delving into her specialty—uncovering secrets or writing shockingly impactful prose—immediately energized her.
Her previously slumped shoulders straightened, and her eyes brightened astonishingly. All her earlier weariness vanished completely.
"My idea is quite simple," Dylan said, meeting her gaze with steady composure. "I want to commission you to write a book about Durmstrang. The help I can provide includes connecting you with relevant informants and a wealth of compiled written materials—such as its historical evolution, curriculum, and clues behind unverified rumors."
"To be written in my style?" Rita immediately zeroed in on the key detail, raising an eyebrow. Her voice held a firm, non-negotiable tone. "If you can't guarantee me complete creative freedom to use my usual style, then you'd better find someone else. I refuse to write a dull, unreadable account that no one will buy."
"No problem at all," Dylan agreed swiftly, without a moment's hesitation. "You will have complete creative freedom. No restrictions whatsoever."
"Are you sure?" Rita sounded utterly incredulous, even leaning forward half a step to press the point. "Are you really sure? You won't ask me to adjust the content to your liking? And no reviewing the first draft?"
"Absolutely sure," Dylan confirmed with a firm nod, his gaze unwavering. "Your writing style is exactly what this book about Durmstrang needs. That school is full of controversy, and only your words can bring that controversial nature fully to life."
"What about the deadline?" Rita decided not to push the style issue further. She worried that too many questions might cause Dylan to change his mind and impose extra restrictions.
She bent to retrieve the Quill, unconsciously twirling it between her fingers, her voice carrying a hint of eagerness. "I need to know a rough estimate for when you'll need the manuscript so I can arrange my time to gather more material."
"I'll inform you of the exact deadline later, but you can start preparing now," Dylan explained. "It will be after the Triwizard Tournament ends, but whether that's one year or two is still uncertain—I need to confirm some key pieces of information first to ensure the book's accuracy."
He paused, then added, "However, I can pay you the commission fee within the next few days. As for the royalties, they'll be calculated using the same split you get for your celebrity biographies, so you won't lose out."
"This sounds like a rather good deal," Rita pondered for a moment, lightly tapping the table with her fingers. "It seems I have absolutely nothing to lose—I get material, payment, and total creative freedom."
She looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity, her expression turning more serious. "But I truly cannot figure out your motive. Why do you suddenly want a book about Durmstrang? The school has kept a very low profile these past few years; logically, not many people would care."
"Because I believe that before long, everyone will know the name of Durmstrang, and they will desperately want to know everything about the school's background," Dylan answered calmly, revealing no further details.
"I seem to have a chance to be on the cutting edge of the times?" Rita raised an eyebrow, a flicker of excited amusement playing on her lips. "That statement, I must say, is far more attractive than just talking about payment."
"Then, Ms. Skeeter, do we have an agreement?" Dylan asked, his eyes on her face. "I noticed you never once asked about the specific amount of the fee."
"I don't believe you're a stingy person. These clothes you're wearing, they're bespoke, aren't they? I've never seen such fabric; they look frightfully expensive," Rita grinned, revealing a set of straight teeth, her tone full of certainty. "Besides, you're not interfering with my writing, you're providing material and informants, and you've given me such a generous deadline—I can easily treat this as extra income to fill my spare time. Why on earth would I refuse such a great opportunity?"
As she spoke, she picked up her Quill, quickly scribbled a line of writing on a piece of parchment, and pushed it toward Dylan. "Here's my contact information. Contact me whenever you have news. The sooner I get the material, the better! I'm already looking forward to digging up Durmstrang's secrets!"
---
As the champions from the three magical schools began to file into the room, Rita Skeeter immediately became busy.
She flitted through the crowd like a nimble little butterfly, greeting and interviewing each champion as they entered.
However, the interview times varied noticeably.
For the Beauxbatons Champion, she asked only a few simple questions about their expectations for the competition.
But when she got to Harry, she pulled him aside for a barrage of questions, asking everything from his preparation to his daily training. Her interview lasted longer than all the other champions combined, and her Quick-Quotes Quill zipped across the parchment, afraid of missing any "scoop."
Once all the Champions were present, a camera tripod had been set up in the clearing at the front of the room, signaling that it was time for the group photo.
Since there were many champions, they needed to stand in two rows. Right after the organizing professor said, "Please stand where you like," Rita retreated to a corner, a faint smirk playing on her lips and an expression of someone ready to enjoy a show.
She had heard rumors that one of the Headmasters had already played dirty tricks during the champion selection. Now that it was time for a photo that concerned school pride, there was no way Karkaroff wouldn't try something.
And things went exactly as she expected.
Karkaroff quickly found Viktor Krum and whispered something into his ear, his finger repeatedly pointing toward the center spot in the front row.
That was clearly the most conspicuous position in the photo.
But Viktor merely shook his head repeatedly. Before Karkaroff could say anything more, he turned and walked over to the other two Durmstrang Champions.
The trio tacitly took a position in the far right corner of the front row, completely ignoring their Headmaster's clear suggestion.
Rita's eyes settled on the center of the front row.
Standing there were the four Hogwarts Champions, with Dylan placed precisely in the middle. Harry, Cedric, and Draco, who were on either side of him, had all instinctively moved slightly outward, clearly and willingly giving him the "center position."
Rita couldn't help but murmur, "He's certainly popular. To have been so quiet before... he's a fascinating fellow. Even their standing positions are perfectly coordinated. There must be so much more to dig up!"
---
During the interviews just now, Rita had constantly tried to pry information out of them, deliberately bringing up "unusual circumstances during the selection" to try and get the champions to admit to the Headmasters' manipulations.
But to her surprise, the champions from every school had evaded her questions with replies like "I didn't notice," "I'm not sure," or "The competition is what matters, nothing else."
Not a single one was willing to discuss it further.
Based on her years of interviewing experience, for these champions—who came from different schools and were previously strangers—to share such "coordination" likely meant some people had been mediating behind the scenes.
Even now, they had all simultaneously conceded the center spot to the Hogwarts group, deliberately avoiding any "fighting for position" that might cause conflict.
The photo was quickly finished, and the champions returned to their seats.
Old Barty Crouch stood up from his chair, cleared his throat, and his gaze swept the room with a serious expression. "Champions, the most important reason we have gathered you today is for a wand inspection."
He paused, adding emphasis. "Please remember, in the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament, your wand is your only weapon and your most reliable companion."
"Its condition directly affects whether or not you can safely face the challenges!"
"For the sake of your safety and the fairness of the competition, we have invited Mr. Ollivander to conduct a thorough inspection of your wands, ensuring that every wand is in peak condition and ready for the upcoming tasks."
He then changed his tone, a rare moment of warmth crossing his face. "Before the inspection begins, I have some good news to announce—after discussion by the panel of judges, the first task will take place on December 1st."
"Additionally, as the panel of judges, we have a piece of advice to offer you," he continued. "Do you remember our previous meeting? We stressed then that courage is the most important quality you will need to face the tasks."
"We hope that in your preparations, you not only hone your magical skills but also strengthen your resolve."
No sooner had Barty Crouch Sr. finished speaking than he stepped forward, his voice even more solemn than before. "Furthermore, considering the difficulty of the first task has been adjusted, the second piece of advice from the judges is cooperation. The upcoming tasks will be difficult to complete alone. Champions must work together and assist each other to better meet the challenge."
He stepped aside, turning his gaze to Dumbledore. "One more thing—Hogwarts, the host of this Triwizard Tournament, has prepared a riddle for you, offered by Headmaster Dumbledore. This riddle will also provide you with guidance."
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet, his silver-white beard catching the light with a soft sheen.
He smiled kindly at the assembled champions, his voice gentle but clearly audible throughout the room. "My riddle is simple—'A puff of hot air dissolves like smoke, a few whispers fall into a nightmare.'"
The instant he heard the riddle, Harry instinctively turned his head.
Two answers immediately flashed into his mind, but he needed confirmation.
When he saw Dylan give a slight nod, Harry instantly confirmed his guess.
—The answer had to be two things.
Or rather, two magical creatures!
A Fire-Breathing Dragon and a Cat-Leopard!
"If you can guess the answer to the riddle, you will naturally know the nature of the first task," Dumbledore continued, his eyes full of encouragement. "Mr. Crouch said that champions need the courage to face the unknown, and I wholeheartedly agree."
"But I would like to add this—if you can know the danger you are about to face and still gather the courage to meet the challenge head-on, that courage is even more commendable. I eagerly anticipate your performance in the first task."
---
Looking at the champions below him, who were now deep in thought, Dumbledore gestured toward Ollivander at the door. "Now, please welcome Mr. Ollivander to inspect the champions' wands and ensure that your 'companions' are in the best possible condition."
Ollivander stepped forward with a deep brown wooden case, inspecting the wands of the champions one by one.
Dylan noted that the wands used by the Beauxbatons and Hogwarts champions were quite similar in size and style. They were slender, carved with delicate patterns, and had smoothly polished grips, clearly designed for flexibility and finesse.
The Durmstrang wands, however, were starkly different. They had thick shafts, retaining the wood's raw grain, and even showing protruding knots, giving them a rugged appearance.
Ollivander showed no surprise, having clearly communicated with wandmakers from other regions before coming to Hogwarts and already familiarizing himself with these unique styles of wands.
The wand inspection ended quickly.
Rita Skeeter immediately stepped up to arrange for individual photos of the champions.
The room grew lively at once.
Dylan took advantage of the brief pause to quietly follow Ollivander. The two arrived in an empty classroom next door.
Dylan waved his wand, and a refined set of seating instantly materialized from the air. There were carved wooden armrests, soft velvet cushions, and a tabletop polished to a mirror shine.
Ollivander sat down, skipping any pleasantries, and got straight to the point. "Dylan, what are your thoughts on the wands used by the Durmstrang champions?"
Dylan walked over to the window, opened it to let in some fresh air, and then replied, "Mr. Ollivander, I have collected some relevant information before."
He raised his wand, and a thick notebook instantly flew out of his pocket and landed squarely in his hand.
"Since the Durmstrang champions arrived relatively late, and wands are such personal and sensitive items, I haven't been able to study them directly," he said, handing the notebook to Ollivander with a hint of apology in his tone. "I've only been able to summarize information bit by bit through casual conversations with them."
"I think I should wait until I have refined my notes a bit more before sending them to you for reference," Dylan suggested.
"No need," Ollivander looked up, shaking his head gently, his gaze fixed on Dylan with a meaningful look. "I actually believe this 'incomplete' set of notes is more suitable for us right now. Do you know why?"