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"What a charismatic quartet," The lady chimes after taking a photo of me with the rest of the champions. "Hello. I'm Rita Skeeter," she shakes each of our hands. "I write for the Daily Prophet. But of course, you know that, don't you? It's you we don't know. You're the juicy news," she rubs her thumbs against mine and Fleur's faces. "What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" She then turns to Krum. "What mysteries do the muscles mask?" Then she rubs Cedric's hair. "Does courage lie beneath those curls? In short, what makes a champion tick? Me, Myself and I want to know. Not to mention my rabid readers. So, who's feeling up to sharing?"

I stay silent as she looks around at each of us. "Shall we start with the youngest? Lovely," she grabs my arm, pulling me out of the chair and I look back at Harry and Cedric who both give me sympathetic looks.

She opens a door and pushes me into a tiny room. "This is cozy," she whispers.

"It's a broom cupboard," I reply back, flatly.

"Get in," she shoves me further in and it takes everything in me not to snap at her and walk straight back out. "Don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?"

"No," I say, taking a seat and noticing the quill that moves on its own.

"So, tell me, Valentina. Here you sit, a mere girl of fourteen—"

"I'm sixteen," I cut in, correcting her.

She rolls her eyes at me. "—about to compete against four students, not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but who have mastered spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?"

"I haven't really thought about it," I tell her, watching the quill write on its own.

"I would be worried if I were you," she tells me, and I snap my attention back on her. "You're the buzz of the Wizarding World at the moment. Being Sirius Black's long, lost, daughter that arrived at Hogwarts after your mother and sister were murdered."

My jaw tightens and I clench my fist close, trying to control my anger as she continues on. "Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?"

"I didn't enter," I grit out.

She dramatically inhales, leaning back. "Of course, you didn't." She then winks at me. "Everyone loves a rebel, Valentina."

"Yep."

"Speaking of your parents, were one of them around and were one of them alive, how do you think they would feel? Proud? Or concerned that your attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention, at worst, a psychotic death wish?"

"Oh, get fucked," I snap standing up. "Write what you want lady, but I'm not doing this shit."

Her jaw drops and I push past her, throwing the door open and storming toward the stairs.

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