A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Meanwhile, Felix Harp stood dressed neatly within the confines of the office fireplace. Sprinkling a handful of Floo Powder, he uttered the words "Diagon Alley" with clarity and resonance. In an instant, he vanished from Hogwarts.

Diagon Alley.

Emerging from the public fireplace, Felix Harp dusted off the ash from his robes and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket—a address.

The next moment, Felix Harp Apparated directly with a Patronus Charm.

In the London outskirts, in front of a standalone house, a tall figure materialized abruptly.

Felix Harp checked the door number, climbed the steps amidst the wind and snow, and rapped the door with his wand.

After a brief moment, an elegant woman opened the door. Her gaze peered through a pair of jewel-studded glasses, scrutinizing the stranger before her.

Felix Harp introduced himself gently, "Felix Harp, currently serving as the Ancient Runes Professor at Hogwarts—you mentioned me in the newspaper, Mrs. Skeeter."

"You are Felix Harp?" Rita Skeeter's eyes lit up. In the blink of an eye, her fingers, adorned with vibrant red nails, grabbed hold of Felix Harp's arm and dragged him inside, saying, "Please, come in!"

The furniture in the living room was arranged meticulously, and the air was imbued with the scent of magical incense. On one side of the wall stood a massive floor-to-ceiling drinks cabinet, while on the other side was a square shelf filled with various books, trophies, and newspapers. On the shelf behind the door rested an alligator-skin handbag.

"Those are my achievements... Felix, I've been quite interested in you. I've been wanting to interview you for a while," Rita Skeeter sat across from him. Her hair was done up in elaborate, stiff, and oddly-shaped curls, which, when paired with her large-chinned face, looked rather peculiar.

"Mrs. Skeeter..."

Felix Harp was swiftly interrupted; this woman was intimidating in her assertiveness. She waved her wand, conjuring a Quick-Quotes Quill and a roll of parchment from the alligator-skin handbag.

"Felix, I'm going to take notes with this Quick-Quotes Quill. You don't mind, do you? This way, I can have my hands free to talk to you more naturally..."

Without waiting for his response, the parchment spread out on its own, and the Quick-Quotes Quill hovered above it, its tip gently trembling.

"Well, where should we begin... let's start with the purpose of your visit today. I guess..." She suddenly burst into laughter, revealing three gold teeth. "You're here on someone's commission, aren't you?"

The long, green Quick-Quotes Quill danced rapidly, pouring out a smooth stream of words:

The late-night visitor had a heart full of concerns. Faced with the journalist's inquiry, he displayed a strong discontent, but not directed towards the journalist—rather, it was aimed at the shadow lurking behind the entire event...

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

Instead of responding, he took an interested look around the living room, where the floor-to-ceiling drinks cabinet occupied a third of the wall, filled with various exquisitely crafted decanters and scattered ornaments.

Rita Skeeter arched an eyebrow, her expression heavily outlined.

"Are you apprehensive, Felix? Don't worry, our readers adore those with rebellious spirits; they'll stand by you."

"A rebellious spirit?" Felix Harp repeated.

"Yes, just like those who fear no authority, those who resist power... If you're under threat, don't fret; speak up, and we'll ensure you're treated fairly."

The Quick-Quotes Quill continued to jot down, but Felix Harp had lost interest. He stood up, walking to the honor shelf opposite the drinks cabinet.

The shelf was filled with Rita Skeeter's personal accolades, including certificates for articles published over the years, best-selling books, and sales figures—various odds and ends...

For instance, he spotted the book "Amanto Depeart: Genius or Fool?" He sighed, "If even half of what's in this book is true, it'd make for decent bathroom reading..."

Rita Skeeter's brows furrowed, her hefty fingers tightly gripping her wand, her inch-long crimson nails digging into her skin.

She rose quickly, standing beside Felix Harp, gazing at him intently. "Felix, I know you. One of my colleagues warned me not to mess with you... Absurd claims. He only graduated a few years ago and got into the news system due to his family background." She alluded knowingly.

"Let me tell you, our readers deserve to know the truth, like—"

"The truth?" Felix Harp interrupted.

"Exactly, the truth!" She emphasized, "Let's talk about you, your experiences, childhood... I believe it could help you find a clearer sense of self."

"I believe there's no need for that; I know who I am."

However, Rita Skeeter persisted. The parchment and Quick-Quotes Quill flew in front of her on the table. "Felix, you came from a Muggle orphanage yet entered Slytherin House. You must have faced bullying, haven't you? Interested in discussing it? I believe many readers would find it fascinating."

"Rita, dear Rita, do you truly understand me?"

"Of course!" Her gaze fixed upon him, as if he were a precious treasure. "Felix, you're a known figure in the wizarding world, with many labels: Slytherin from a Muggle orphanage, faced threats during school, defeated the Shafiq family—one of the 28 Sacred Twenty-Eight—and a group of dark wizards with Dumbledore's protection, became an expert in the Muggle realm after graduation, and now returned to Hogwarts to teach..."

As Rita Skeeter spoke, the Quick-Quotes Quill raced to record her words. Observing Felix Harp's indifferent demeanor, she enticed, "Your journey is nothing short of legendary. If you agree, I'm willing to write a biography about you, bringing endless Galleons and immense fame!"

"However, the label 'Muggle expert' sounds rather feeble; our readers prefer strong-willed wizards, preferably with connections to celebrities... Let me think about how to handle this."

Felix Harp chuckled, pointing at the books in front of him. "Like these kinds of biographies?"

"Art requires a touch of imagination," she said slyly.

Felix Harp grew impatient. He decided to settle the matter at hand and returned to his seat.

This action misled Rita Skeeter into believing his acquiescence. She plopped down on the sofa, imperiously commanding, "Let's begin with your relationship with Dumbledore."

"Mrs. Skeeter, I need you to cease your false reporting. I've noticed you mentioned me in the Daily Prophet and intend to fabricate—"

"I'm not fabricating; at most, it's a different perspective..."

Felix Harp nodded. "Allow me to show you what a different perspective is." He lightly tapped the table with his finger.

"Tap, tap," fingertip met tabletop, emitting a crisp sound.

"What are you say—" Rita Skeeter suddenly choked, realizing her world had shifted.

Colors were rapidly fading: the exquisite violet teapot, the deep red robe, the golden trophies in the cabinet, the black-brown alligator-skin handbag, the pale yellow parchment, the green Quick-Quotes Quill...

All colors were fading away.

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