A certain Hogwarts professor of runes

Meanwhile, Felix, fully dressed, stood in the fireplace of his office. He sprinkled a handful of Floo Powder, uttered a clear and loud "Diagon Alley," and vanished from Hogwarts.

Diagon Alley.

Felix emerged from the communal fireplace, dusted himself off, and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket—an address.

The next moment, Felix Apparated and left.

In the suburbs of London, a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of a detached house.

Felix glanced at the house number, walked up the steps in the snow, and knocked on the door with his wand.

A moment later, a sophisticated woman opened the door, her gaze scrutinizing the stranger before her through a pair of jeweled glasses.

Felix introduced himself gently: "Felix Heap, currently the Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts—you mentioned me in the newspaper, Ms. Skeeter."

"You're Felix Heap?" Rita Skeeter's eyes lit up, and in the blink of an eye, her bright red-nailed fingers grabbed Felix's arm and dragged him into the room. "Please come in!"

The living room furniture was neatly arranged, and the air was filled with the scent of magical aromatherapy. On one side of the walls was a huge floor-to-ceiling wine cabinet, and on the other side were square shelves filled with various books, trophies, and newspapers. On the shelf behind the door sat a crocodile skin handbag.

"That's an honor I've received... Felix, I'm very interested in you, I've wanted to interview you for a long time." Rita Skeeter sat opposite him, her hair styled into elaborate, stiff, and oddly shaped curls that looked particularly awkward against her large chin.

"Ms. Skeeter..."

Felix was abruptly interrupted by the woman's terrifyingly forceful manner. She waved her wand, and a shorthand quill and a roll of parchment flew out of her crocodile-skin handbag.

"Felix, you won't object to me using a quill pen to take notes, will you? That way I can have my hands free to talk to you normally..."

Before he could reply, the parchment unfolded automatically, and the shorthand quill fell vertically onto it, its tip trembling slightly.

"Hmm, where to begin... let's start with why you're here today. I guess..." She suddenly laughed, revealing three gold teeth, "You've been asked to do this by someone, haven't you?"

The long, green quill pen danced rapidly, pouring out a string of flowing text:

This late-night visitor was preoccupied with his own thoughts. When I asked him questions, he expressed strong dissatisfaction, not directed at me, but at the shadow lurking behind the whole affair…

Felix chuckled softly. He glanced at the clock on the wall; it was just seven o'clock.

He didn't reply, but instead looked around the living room with great interest. The floor-to-ceiling wine cabinet occupied a third of the wall, and it was filled with wine jugs of all sizes and exquisite designs, as well as some scattered ornaments.

Rita Skeeter raised a heavily drawn eyebrow.

"Are you having reservations, Felix? It's alright. Our readers love rebellious characters; they'll protect you."

"Rebellious personality?" Felix repeated.

"Yes, just like those who are not afraid of power and resist authority... If you feel threatened, don't worry, speak up and we will give you fair treatment."

The quill pen continued to make notes, but Felix lost interest in watching. He stood up and went to the honor shelf opposite the liquor cabinet.

The shelves were piled high with Rita Skeeter's personal accolades, including certificates for her articles, newspaper articles, best-selling books, and their sales figures, and all sorts of other such items...

For example, he came across the book *Armando Dippet: Master or Idiot?* He sighed, "If half of what's in this book is true, it'd be a decent toilet read..."

Rita Skeeter's eyebrows furrowed, her large fingers gripping her wand tightly, her two-inch-long, bright red nails digging into her skin.

She quickly stood up, went to Felix's side, and stared at him intently. "Felix, I know you. A colleague of mine advised me not to get involved with you... What a ridiculous statement. He only graduated a few years ago and got into the news system because of his family connections," she said pointedly.

"If you ask me, our readers have the right to know the truth, for example—"

"The truth?" Felix interrupted her.

"That's right, the truth!" she emphasized deliberately. "Let's talk about you, your experiences, your childhood, and things like that. I think this can help you have a clearer understanding of yourself."

"I think there's no need for that. I know exactly what kind of person I am."

However, Rita Skeeter did not give up. The parchment and sketching pen on the table flew in front of her. "Felix, you came from a Muggle orphanage but entered Slytherin. You must have been bullied a lot, right? Would you like to tell me about it? I think many readers would be very interested in that."

"Rita, Rita, do you really understand me?"

"Of course!" Her gaze was fixed on him, as if he were a precious treasure. "Felix, you're quite well-known in the wizarding world. You have many labels: a Slytherin from a Muggle orphanage, you faced numerous death threats during your time at school, you defeated the Shafiq family, one of the 28 pure-bloods, and a group of dark wizards under Dumbledore's protection, you became an expert in the Muggle field after graduation, and now you've returned to Hogwarts to teach..."

As Rita Skeeter spoke, she jotted down notes rapidly with her quill pen. Seeing Felix's noncommittal attitude, she said enticingly, "Your story is legendary. If you agree, I'd love to write your biography—that would mean countless Galleons and immense fame!"

"However, the label of 'Muggle expert' seems too weak. Our readers prefer strong-willed wizards, preferably with connections to celebrities... Let me think about how to handle this?"

Felix chuckled, pointing to the book in front of him. "Like this kind of biography?"

"Art needs a certain amount of room for imagination," she said slyly.

Felix was getting impatient. He decided to deal with the immediate problem as soon as possible, so he returned to his seat.

This behavior led Rita Skeeter to mistakenly believe he was acquiescing, so she plopped down on the sofa and impatiently and arrogantly ordered, "Let's start with your relationship with Dumbledore."

"Ms. Skeeter, I need you to stop your false reporting. I noticed that you mentioned me in the Daily Prophet and are preparing to fabricate a whole new story—"

"I'm not making this up, it's just a different perspective..."

Felix nodded. "Let me show you what a different perspective is." He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"Tap tap," the fingertips struck the table, making a crisp sound.

"What are you saying—" Rita Skeeter suddenly choked, realizing that the world she saw had suddenly changed.

The colors were fading rapidly: the exquisite purple long-necked pot, the deep red robe, the gold trophy in the cabinet, the dark brown crocodile skin handbag, the pale yellow parchment, the green sketching quill...

All colors are fading away.