Unloved

The Beetle

Setting: Interviews with the Daily Prophet; Jemima's p.o.v.

We're escorted into the champions room: Fleur in her uniform, Krum with his walking staff, Cedric, Harry and I in our school uniforms. Two chairs are set before, Fleur is asked to take the one on the left, while I'm instructed to take the right; Harry stands between our two chair, with Cedric on his left and hand on the back of Fleur's chair, Viktor on Harry's right with a hand on the back of my chair and either of Harry hands resting on the backs of both chairs. The boys all make stiff faces as Fleur gives off her best young lady smile and I go more for the Mona Lisa smile...how the bloody hell did we get into this mess? The camera goes off and a short blond haired woman in green and red glasses steps forth through the smoke. I swear if she says even one word about my eyepatch, I'll stick my hand down her throat, rip out her voice chords and stomp on them.

"What a charismatic quarter," she says staring at us, "hello," she continues after a pause, "I'm Rita Skeeter," she says shaking Cedric's hand before jumping to Harry's, "I write for the Daily Prophet," she goes on as she shakes Krum, Fleur and my hands, "but of course you know that don't you..." well I assumed so, "it's, you, we don't know," she says getting rather irritating, "huh," she snickers, "you're the juice news," she states looking at us all, "what corks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks," she says as she touches mine & Fleur's faces and lightly slaps Fleur's, but I smack her hand away the same time she does that, "what mysteries does muscles mask," she goes on unfazed as she walks behind Fleur and messes with Cedric's hair, "does courage lie beneath those curls?: it should, what makes a champion tick..." she take a pause, "me, myself and I want to know; not to mention my rapid readers, " she says with a laugh as we all stare at her standing between Harry & Cedric, "so, who's willing enough to share?"

"..." the five of us are all silent...I don't wanna be in the bloody paper, I don't even wanna be in this rutty mess

"Hm?" She asks looking around

"..." none of us answer

"Should start with the youngest," she says looking to Harry as he's looking to Viktor, "Lovey."

With that she drags him away to a broom closet and my eye goes wide as he grabs onto me, dragging me along with him...

"Mm, this is cozy," she says as she is practically body to body with Harry and me

"It's a broom cupboard," Harry says

"You should feel right at home then," she says as she pushes him to keep walking

"That's one," I mutter quietly through grit teeth as I follow them

"Don't mind if I use a quick quills quote do you?" She asks as Harry a seat on a bucket and I quietly stand behind Rita and the quill

"Oh, uh, no," Harry says once he's settled

"So tell me Harry," she starts, "here you sit, a mere boy of twelve..."

"Pft," I fight to hold back my laughter

"I'm fourteen," Harry says

"About to compete against three students," she continues, ignoring his correction, "not only vastly more emotionally mature than yourself, but to have mastered spells that you could only attempt in your dizziness day dreams...concerned?"

"I-I-I don't know," Harry stutters as he watches the quill move, "haven't really thought about it."

"Just ignore the quill," she tells him, "because your no ordinary boy at twelve are you..."

"Fourteen," I say at the same time as Harry

"Stories legend," she continues on, ignoring us, "do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?"