Hogwarts' Golden Glory

It's worth noting that she has done many risky things in order to get trending news.

Her thoughts were instantly drawn back to that summer night six months ago.

The pale moonlight shone on the terrace of Malfoy Manor.

She clung tightly to the shadow of the stone pillar in the form of a beetle.

Her compound eyes reflected Lucius Malfoy's pale face—he was talking in hushed tones to several hooded figures.

"The Dark Mark has been making some noise lately..." Lucius's voice slithered into her hearing like a venomous snake.

"I suspect the Dark Lord..."

Rita's insect heart pounded wildly, and her six legs trembled involuntarily.

This is a front-page news story—"The Malfoy Family's Secret Connections with the Death Eaters!"

Her forefeet were already dipped in shorthand ink, ready to write crucial information on her wings...

Sudden--

Snapped!

A dark shadow flashed by, and Rita felt a sharp pain.

Her left wing was struck hard by something, and her whole body tumbled and fell to the edge of the terrace.

Through her dizzy compound eyes, she saw a pair of gleaming dragon-skin boots approaching, and then—

A silver fly swatter.

The one holding it was a pale-faced blond boy.

Under the moonlight, those gray-blue eyes were staring at her, this "beetle," with a half-smile.

That man was none other than Kane Malfoy!

Just as she was thinking of changing her position to continue eavesdropping.

But her opponent made a move to swing the racket again, as if he wouldn't give up until he beat her to a pulp.

In desperation, Rita flapped her wings, but her missing left wing made her fly erratically, nearly colliding with the thorns of the rose bushes...

Looking back now, it's clear that the other party knew her identity back then, but she still refused to admit it.

"Just ask me anything, Ms. Skeeter."

Kane leaned back on the sofa. "You want to know why I was able to see through your Animagus?"

Rita's red lips pressed into a thin line: "I'm just curious... how could a first-year student at Hogwarts be so familiar with advanced Transfiguration..."

"Born in 1951, he spent a lot of time training to become an Animagus and finally gained the ability to transform into a beetle at will. He aspired to be a journalist and writer, so he used this ability to secretly eavesdrop on news he deemed worthy of reporting."

Kane pulled a yellowed photograph from his dragon-skin wallet and pushed it across the table.

"In 1989," Kane said, toying with her wand, "you infiltrated the Wizengamor jury lounge in your beetle form, learned beforehand that Sirius Black wouldn't be tried, and then wrote 'The Fall of the Black Family'..."

Her face turned deathly pale instantly—she was certain that no one knew about this.

But the little wizard in front of me actually knows so much!

Rita's breathing quickened. These were secrets even the Ministry of Magic didn't know...

"Should I continue?" Kane conjured up some images, and Rita's photos taken in her beetle form appeared in the silver mist.

"Like the aristocratic gentleman bathing photos you sold to The Witcher Weekly? Or your documentation of Umbridge and Fudge..."

What do you want?

Rita's voice suddenly became hoarse, and cracks finally appeared in her carefully crafted mask.

"Forget everything, and all is emptiness!"

Rita's wand suddenly emitted a red light, but Kane was faster.

His Silent Armor Spell deflected the Oblivion Spell back, and at the same time, a silver light shot out from his sleeve—"Immediately Imprison!"

The magic ropes bound Rita tightly to the chair.

To her horror, she found her wand in Kane's hand, and the usually gentle Slytherin boy now had an icy glint in his eyes.

She never imagined that she would be defeated by a first-year student.

She had wanted to interview the Malfoy family when their business was booming.

However, due to the power of the Malfoy family, she had to abandon the idea.

Looking back now, I'm so glad I didn't go!

Kane took out a roll of parchment that glowed green from his inner pocket; ancient runes writhed on the paper as if they were alive.

"Sign this."

"Priority review of the front page of the Daily Prophet for the next three years, and..."

He tapped his wand lightly, and the words suddenly rearranged into something Rita could understand: "The signatory voluntarily accepts the constraints of the life contract."

"You're insane! This is black magic!"

Rita continued to try to resist, and five spare quills flew out of her crocodile-skin handbag and were aimed at Kane.

"They'll all turn to petrification."

Kane's spell was swift.

Rita froze on the spot, watching in horror as all her most beloved quill pens were destroyed.

Kane pressed his wand against her own throat.

"Do you know why I chose you, Ms. Skeeter?"

Kane slowly rose, his wand gliding across her left wrist.

"Because your Animagus can indeed make things easier for me! If you don't want to spend your next life in Azkaban." He leaned close to her ear.

"Sign it; you won't regret it."

Kane's voice was as soft as if he were discussing afternoon tea, "Or tomorrow The Quibbler will publish an article titled 'Journalist or Spy? Rita Skeeter's Twenty Years of Double Life'..."

Rita could only nod helplessly.

Kane dipped her finger in the ink from the broken pen and pressed her fingerprint onto the contract.

The moment the ink seeped into the parchment, she felt a burning pain on the inside of her left wrist.

A small silver beetle tattoo appeared, its six legs tightly gripping her pulse.

The moment the silver light surged, Rita felt her heart being bound by invisible threads.

"The contract is established."

You should go write tomorrow's headline—"Minister Fudge and the Bright Future of Judicial Reform."

As he reached the door, he suddenly turned back: "By the way, the truth serum in your nail polish doesn't work on me—try buying some better quality next time."

As Kane disappeared down the spiral staircase, Rita felt her back was soaked with sweat.

The beetle tattoo on his wrist gleamed with a cold light, like a shackle he could never break free from.

The rocks of Azkaban echoed with a mournful sound in the waves.

The shadowy figures of Dementors roamed between the towers.

The clanging of chains echoed in the corridor in front of the prison gates.

The Death Eaters all looked toward the source of the sound.

Sirius Black was being escorted by four Aurors.

More than a decade of imprisonment left him emaciated, but his back remained ramrod straight.

When his gaze fell on Bellatrix, his chapped lips curled into a mocking smile.

Amidst the other person's disheveled, straw-like hair, a terrifying light flashed in their crazed eyes the moment they saw their cousin.

Bellatrix lunged at the iron bars, her withered fingers piercing through the gaps in the fence like eagle claws.

"A filthy traitor to the bloodline! A disgrace to the Black family!"

Her spittle splattered on Sirius's face. "Master will definitely put you and that Mudblood boy together in the future—"

"Save your energy, Bella." Sirius wiped his face. "Your 'master' is dead!"

He deliberately raised his voice, trying to mock the other person!

Bellatrix let out a scream that sounded inhuman as she frantically tried to pounce on her cousin.

The Aurors had to cast a silencing spell on her, but her eyes still screamed.

"Let's go!" the leader, Auror, shouted sharply. He didn't want to stay here any longer!