Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

Latest website: "Clark, you won't object if I use a shorthand quill to take notes, right? This way I can free up my hands to talk to you normally..."

While saying this, Rita Skeeter had already taken out a long, dazzling green quill and a roll of parchment from her crocodile leather handbag.

"As you please." Clark stretched out his hand and made a casual gesture.

When Rita Skeeter heard this, the smile on her face became more obvious, and she also showed the three gold teeth in her mouth.

She spread the parchment on the table between them, then put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, sucked it deliciously for a while, and then placed the pen vertically on the parchment.

The quill tube stood on the tip of the pen and trembled slightly.

"Try it out... My name is Rita Skeeter, a reporter for the Daily Preview."

Along with her words, the green quill pen began to write rapidly, and the tip of the pen slid across the parchment dexterously.

The charming blonde Rita Skeeter, now forty-three years old, has exposed many flashy false names with her unruly quill——

"Ha!" Clark chuckled, "It's a very sophisticated activation alchemy. It must be expensive to make, right?"

"Yes," Rita Skeeter nodded, "This is a specially customized alchemy prop."

As she spoke, she tore off the first piece of parchment, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it into her handbag.

Then, she leaned toward Clark and said, "So, Clark...what made you decide to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Hmm-" Clark opened his mouth, but his attention was quickly drawn to the quill.

Although he did not speak, the pen moved swishingly across the parchment. Where the pen tip slid, Clark recognized a line of newly written words:

Fighting for honor has always been Clark Prewett's motto.

This young man, who is not yet fifteen years old, has a handsome and charming face, and when he said these words, his beautiful dark golden eyes revealed——

"Is it okay to write it like this, Clark?" Rita Skeeter asked with a flattering look on her face. "If you don't like it, I can change it.

Don't worry, I will give you a review before the official manuscript comes out. "

Clark nodded noncommittally. In fact, she didn't need to say anything. As long as the report involved him, the manuscript would appear on his desk before it was sent out.

After all, who made him the major shareholder of "Peijia Daily"?

Although Rita Skeeter has always been known for her poignant words to satirize the powerful, she is actually very smart and knows who can and cannot be messed with.

Even if she is a great reporter or writer, in front of capital, she is just a tool that can be called around.

"Tell me how you feel about the events you're about to compete in," Rita Skeeter continued. "Are you excited? Or nervous?"

"Maybe others will be nervous and excited, but to me, it's nothing." Clark said calmly.

Rita Skeeter raised a thick eyebrow. She did not expect that this young majority shareholder of the Daily Forecast would be so arrogant.

Yes, although she was considered a very arrogant person, in Rita Skeeter's opinion, this boy was actually better at pretending than she was.

However, she was not defeated by this small setback and continued to ask relentlessly, "It is said that warriors have lost their lives in several Triwizard Tournaments in the past. Have you ever thought about this?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't participate in the previous sessions." Clark said matter-of-factly.

"Cough-cough-"

The quill swished across the parchment between the two of them, but its sliding speed was much slower. It was no longer as smooth as ice skating as before.

"Of course, you have experienced many dangerous things in the past, haven't you?" Rita Skeeter asked again, staring at him intently, "For example, facing a vicious dark wizard, fighting a powerful monster, Or to kill the evil werewolf?"

"It seems you investigated me thoroughly." Clark looked at her with a smile.

"It is a reporter's job to know the information about the person being interviewed." Rita Skeeter explained.

"So, you signed up to participate in the Triwizard Tournament this time with great confidence, right?"

Clark nodded.

"So, which warrior do you think poses the greatest threat to you in this competition?"

Clark smiled and shook his head. At the same time, when he lowered his head, he saw the words just written by the quill:

Regarding this game, Clark said that he faced it with an all-out attitude.

Although the other warriors are very powerful, in Clark's view, they are not invulnerable, and he still has the strength to fight.

If Bagman were to see that this guy who always took pleasure in distorting facts and making up random things could write such words, his jaw would definitely drop.

However, this is the fact. It's like, you never know how humble your goddess will be when she is used as a licking dog for others.

However, being a licking dog is not that easy. Rita Skeeter is ready to continue her efforts and continue to interview Clark.

But before she could speak, Dumbledore, accompanied by several other referees and an old man, walked down the stairs from the second floor with the sound of footsteps.

"Dumbledore!"

Rita Skeeter said loudly, looking very happy - as if she could finally get out of this embarrassing situation.

Clark noticed that her quill and parchment suddenly disappeared from the table as her clawed fingers hurriedly closed the clasp of her alligator handbag.

"Are you OK?"

Rita Skeeta said, stood up, and stretched out a big manly hand to Dumbledore, "Have you read my summer article about the International Federation of Wizards Conference?"

"No," Dumbledore said with a smile, without shaking her hand.

"Really? I don't believe it." Rita Skeeta retracted her hand very naturally and still asked with a smile, "I remember I sent you a copy. How could you not see it?"

"Oh, that must have been taken care of by Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore responded with a smile, "I have been busy visiting old friends all over the summer and communicating with them, so I didn't read your article."

"Of course, I think it must be something unimportant. Generally, I ask Vice-Principal Professor McGonagall to handle unimportant letters for me."

Clark saw Rita Skeeta's smile visibly stiffen, but continued to say without shame:

"I just wanted to point out that some of your views are a bit outdated, Dumbledore, and there are a lot of wizards out there—"

"I would love to hear your frank reasoning, Rita," Dumbledore smiled and interrupted politely, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss this issue later, as the wand testing ceremony is about to begin. .”

With that said, Dumbledore waved his hand and motioned the warriors to sit on the chairs in the center of the classroom.

Clark and the others hurriedly took their seats. In front of them was a velvet-covered table, where four of the five referees were already sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Mrs. Maxim, Mr. Crouch and Ludo Ba. Germann.

Rita Skeeter also found a corner to sit down. Clark saw her secretly take out the roll of parchment from her handbag, spread it on her knees, smack the tip of her shorthand quill, and hold the pen upright again. Place on parchment paper.

"Allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander."

After everyone sat down, Dumbledore also sat down on the referee's bench and said to several warriors, "He will check your wands to make sure they are in good condition before the game."

Standing next to the referee's box, the old wizard with two big light-colored eyes smiled and nodded to the four warriors. Clark had seen this Mr. Ollivander - he was in Diagon Alley three years ago. I received my custom-made wand from this wandmaker.

"Miss Delacour, you come first, okay?" Mr. Ollivander said, walking to the open space in the center of the room.

Fleur Delacour walked lightly to Mr. Ollivander and handed him her wand.

"Well..." he said.

He rotated the wand between his slender fingers like a conductor's baton, and many pink and gold sparks erupted from the tip of the wand.

Then he brought the wand close to his eyes and held it carefully.

"That's right," he said softly, "nine and a half inches...very strong...made of maple...with...oh, my God..."

"It contains a Veela hair," Fleur said with some pride. "It is my grandma's hair."

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander. "Yes, of course, I have never used Veela hair myself. I think wands made of Veela hair are too sensitive and willful... But, everyone Everyone has their own hobbies, since it suits you..."

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers over the wand, apparently checking it for scratches and bruises. Then, he whispered: "The orchids are blooming!"

A bouquet of flowers blooms on the head of the wand.

"Very good, very good, in good condition," Mr. Ollivander said, gathering the flowers and handing them to Fleur along with the wand, "Mr. Bruce, it's your turn."

Fleur returned to her seat with brisk steps, and when she passed Bruce, she smiled brightly at him.

"Ah, this should be Xicobar Wolf's product, isn't it?"

Mr. Ollivander said, much more excited than before, as Bruce handed over the wand.

"Yes, I know him, one of the four most famous staff makers in North America.

It is said that he is a descendant of the Choctaw tribe (a Native American tribe) and is famous for the exquisite carving of his wand.

Thirteen and a quarter inches...made of black prickly pear wood...moderately soft and hard, a good helper in battle, and in excellent condition...do you take care of it regularly? "

"Just wiped it last night," Bruce said with a smile.

"Let me see the core of the wand... ah... it turns out to be... the feathers of a thunderbird. This is the first time I've seen this. This thing seems to be only found in the United States, and is rare in the UK."

Mr. Ollivander looked at Bruce's wand and clicked his tongue in wonder, as if he had seen some interesting toy.

"But it's also true that Shecobar Wolff likes to use thunderbird feathers as the core of the wand. This core material has very powerful power. Although it is difficult to master, it is extremely suitable for transformation spells, especially for transformation masters. precious."

Mr. Ollivander waved his magic wand, and an abandoned chair in the corner instantly transformed into a colorful macaw, waving its wings and making strange calls.

He expressed satisfaction and said: "As expected, Mr. Krum, it's your turn."

Viktor Krum stood up, with slumped round shoulders and splayed feet, and walked toward Mr. Ollivander listlessly.

He thrust his wand away and stood frowning, his hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Well," said Mr. Ollivander, "if I'm not mistaken, it's a product of Gregorovitch. He's an excellent wandmaker, although I'm not particularly fond of his style...yet... …”

He raised his wand, turning it over and over before his eyes, examining it carefully.

"That's right...hornbeam wood contains the heart tendons of a dragon, right?" He glanced at Krum - Krum nodded, "much thicker than what people usually see...very Hard...very strong...ten and a quarter inches...flock of birds!"

The hornbeam wand made a loud bang, like a pistol being fired, and a flock of birds flapped their wings and flew out from the wand head, flying through the open window into the pale sunlight.

"Very well," Mr. Ollivander handed the wand back to Krum, "and last but not least... Mr. Prewett."

Clark stood up, passed Krum, walked towards Mr. Ollivander, and handed over his wand.

"Huh?!" Ollivander made a surprised sound.

"This wand...isn't the one I sold you originally?" Ollivander asked doubtfully, "I remember that the wand I sold you should be a nine-inch long one made of beech wood and made of bird and snake nerves. 's wand, where's that wand?"

"It was damaged in an accident a few months ago," Clark said helplessly. "There are no bones left."

It is true that there are no bones left, and there is no wood residue to be found.

After all, it, along with Clark's clothes and pants, disappeared into the time vortex at the dragon farm a few months ago.

"That's such a pity," Ollivander said regretfully. "The core of the wand is a very rare one with the nerves of a bird and a snake. Your grandfather asked me to customize it for you when you were just born."

"Speaking of which, this wand of yours should be your grandfather's wand," Ollivander asked again. "Eleven inches long, apple wood, with unicorn tail hair. It has no special features, but it is very tolerant."

Clark nodded, but Mr. Ollivander persuaded him anyway.

"Although it doesn't repel you very much, everyone's wand is unique and it can't bring out your full strength.

If you have time, I suggest you take a trip to Diagon Alley and choose a wand that suits you. "

As he spoke, Mr. Ollivander caused the wand to emit a stream of wine, and then handed the wand back to Clark, declaring it to be in excellent condition.

"Thank you everyone," Dumbledore stood up next to the referee's table, "Now you can go back to class - maybe it would be more convenient to go directly to eat, since they will end get out of class soon -"

"By the way, Clark, please stay for a while."

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