A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

Ron licked his lips nervously.

Harry said quickly, "I believe Dumbledore, Hagrid can't be the murderer! But since he's listed as a suspect, he must know something!"

The three were preparing to brave the snowstorm to reach the Forbidden Forest cabin when they bumped into a burly figure as soon as they stepped out of the castle. It was Hagrid, his face covered in snow, his thick beard frozen, and he was carrying a dead chicken.

"Hagrid, oh—" Harry bumped right into him.

"Watch out! Little ones!" Hagrid said gruffly, waving a limp chicken in his hand, a few feathers flying through the air with his movements...

That evening.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione have just returned from the abandoned underground classroom, and everything is going smoothly with the Polyjuice Potion.

Harry carried with him the magic scrolls given to him by Professor Hyp, translating the Parsley language word by word. In the empty, abandoned classroom, hoarse, eerie sounds would occasionally echo.

This kept Ron from getting a good night's sleep—in his half-awake state, he would always see a witch brewing a mud-like potion, and a wizard making a hissing sound like a snake.

Earlier that afternoon, they finally got firsthand information about the secret room from Hagrid.

At this moment, they were hiding in a corner of the lounge.

“Almost all of them match up!” Hermione suddenly said.

"what?"

"The monster of the Chamber of Secrets! Wait for me—" Hermione had clearly made up her mind. She hurriedly ran back to her dormitory and soon returned with a piece of parchment.

The three huddled together, looking at the text above, which was about a terrifying magical creature called a "basilisk".

After Harry and Ron finished reading the information, Hermione recounted the clues she had gathered over the past few days: "Basilisks can hibernate for long periods, their eyes are lethal, they are natural enemies of spiders, they are afraid of chickens crowing... What comes to mind?"

"So, the monster in the secret room is the basilisk?" Ron asked excitedly.

“No mistake!” Harry slammed his fist on the table.

They received two main pieces of information from Hagrid: one was that his chickens kept dying inexplicably; the other was that he had kept an eight-eyed giant spider fifty years ago, and the giant spider was terrified of the monster in the secret chamber and refused to reveal a single word about it.

They all match!

“But there’s still a major problem: the basilisk can’t petrify people. I initially overlooked it because of this, but now the circumstantial evidence is quite conclusive,” Hermione said very carefully. “Perhaps I should find some time to ask Professor Hyp if there’s any way to reduce the damage from the basilisk’s gaze…”

She angrily pounded her head. "It's so strange, I feel like something is right in front of me, but I just can't seem to see it..."

Harry swallowed hard. "Hermione, I think I understand."

Chapter 53 Rita Skeeter

Meanwhile, Felix, fully dressed, stood in the fireplace of his office. He sprinkled a handful of Floo Powder, uttered a clear and loud "Diagon Alley," and vanished from Hogwarts.

Diagon Alley.

Felix emerged from the communal fireplace, dusted himself off, and pulled a slip of paper from his pocket—an address.

The next moment, Felix Apparated and left.

In the suburbs of London, a tall figure suddenly appeared in front of a detached house.

Felix glanced at the house number, walked up the steps in the snow, and knocked on the door with his wand.

A moment later, a sophisticated woman opened the door, her gaze scrutinizing the stranger before her through a pair of jeweled glasses.

Felix introduced himself gently: “Felix Heap, currently the Professor of Ancient Runes at Hogwarts—you mentioned me in the newspaper, Ms. Skeeter.”

“You’re Felix Hep?” Rita Skeeter’s eyes lit up, and in the blink of an eye, her bright red-nailed fingers grabbed Felix’s arm and dragged him into the room. “Please come in!”

The living room was neatly arranged, and the air was filled with the scent of magical aromatherapy. On one side of the walls was a huge floor-to-ceiling wine cabinet, and on the other side were square shelves filled with various books, trophies, and newspapers. On the shelf behind the door sat a crocodile skin handbag.

“That’s an honor I’ve received… Felix, I’m very interested in you, I’ve wanted to interview you for a long time.” Rita Skeeter sat opposite him, her hair styled into elaborate, stiff, and oddly shaped curls that looked particularly awkward against her large chin.

“Ms. Skeeter…”

Felix was abruptly interrupted by the woman's terrifyingly forceful manner. She waved her wand, and a shorthand quill and a roll of parchment flew out of her crocodile-skin handbag.

“Felix, you won’t object to me using a quill pen to take notes, will you? That way I can have my hands free to have a normal conversation with you…”

Before he could reply, the parchment unfolded automatically, and the shorthand quill fell vertically onto it, its tip trembling slightly.

"Hmm, where to begin... let's start with why you're here today. I guess..." she suddenly laughed, revealing three gold teeth, "you've been commissioned by someone, haven't you?"

The long, green quill pen danced rapidly, pouring out a string of flowing text:

This late-night visitor was preoccupied with his own thoughts. When I asked him questions, he expressed strong dissatisfaction, not directed at me, but at the shadow lurking behind the whole affair…

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

He didn't reply, but instead looked around the living room with great interest. The floor-to-ceiling wine cabinet occupied a third of the wall, and it was filled with wine jugs of all sizes and exquisite shapes, as well as some scattered ornaments.

Rita Skeeter raised a heavily drawn eyebrow.

"Are you having reservations, Felix? It's alright. Our readers love rebellious characters, and they'll protect you."

“Rebellious nature?” Felix repeated.

"Yes, just like those who are not afraid of power and resist authority... If you feel threatened, don't worry, speak up and we will give you fair treatment."

The quill pen continued to make notes, but Felix lost interest in watching. He stood up and went to the honor shelf opposite the liquor cabinet.

The shelves were piled high with Rita Skeeter's personal accolades, including certificates for her articles, newspaper articles, best-selling books, and their sales figures, and all sorts of other such items...

For example, he came across the book *Armando Dippet: Master or Fool?* He sighed, "If half of what's in this book is true, it'd be a decent toilet read..."

Rita Skeeter's eyebrows furrowed, her large fingers gripping her wand tightly, her two-inch-long, bright red nails digging into her skin.

She quickly stood up, went to Felix's side, and stared at him intently. "Felix, I know you. A colleague of mine advised me not to get involved with you... What a ridiculous statement. He only graduated a few years ago and got into the news system because of his family connections," she said pointedly.

"In my opinion, our readers have the right to know the truth, for example—"

"The truth?" Felix interrupted her.

“That’s right, the truth!” she emphasized deliberately. “Let’s talk about you, your experiences, your childhood, and things like that. I think this can help you have a clearer understanding of yourself.”

"I think there's no need for that anymore. I know exactly what kind of person I am."

However, Rita Skeeter did not give up. The parchment and sketching pen on the table flew in front of her. "Felix, you came from a Muggle orphanage but entered Slytherin. You must have been bullied a lot, right? Would you like to tell me about it? I think many readers would be very interested in this."

"Rita, Rita, do you really understand me?"

“Of course!” Her gaze was fixed on him, as if he were a precious treasure. “Felix, you’re quite well-known in the wizarding world. You have many labels: a Slytherin from a Muggle orphanage, you faced numerous death threats during your time at school, you defeated the Shafiq family, one of the 28 pure-bloods, and a group of dark wizards under Dumbledore’s protection, you became an expert in the Muggle field after graduation, and now you’ve returned to Hogwarts to teach…”

As Rita Skeeter spoke, she scribbled rapidly with her quill pen. Seeing Felix's noncommittal attitude, she said enticingly, "Your story is legendary. If you agree, I'd like to write a biography of you, which would mean countless Galleons and immense fame!"

"However, the label of 'Muggle expert' seems too weak. Our readers prefer strong-willed wizards, preferably with connections to celebrities... Let me think about how to handle this?"

Felix chuckled, pointing to the book in front of him. "Like this kind of biography?"

“Art needs a certain amount of room for imagination,” she said slyly.

Felix was getting impatient. He decided to deal with the immediate problem as soon as possible, so he returned to his seat.

This behavior led Rita Skeeter to mistakenly believe he had given in, so she plopped down on the sofa and impatiently and arrogantly ordered, "Let's start with your relationship with Dumbledore."

“Ms. Skeeter, I need you to stop your false reporting. I noticed you mentioned me in the Daily Prophet and are preparing to fabricate even more—”

"I'm not making this up, it's just a different perspective..."

Felix nodded. “Let me show you what a different perspective is.” He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

"Tap tap," the fingertips struck the table, making a crisp sound.

“What are you saying—” Rita Skeeter suddenly choked, realizing that the world she saw had suddenly changed.

The colors are fading rapidly: the exquisite purple long-necked pot, the deep red robe, the gold trophy in the cabinet, the dark brown crocodile skin handbag, the pale yellow parchment, the green sketching quill...

All colors are fading away.

Chapter 54 You're blocking my way...

The whole world was reduced to only three colors: black, white, and gray.

Rita Skeeter stiffened, watching with difficulty as Felix tapped his fingers on the table. They were long and slender, with healthy light pink nails—the only color in her field of vision.

As their fingers tapped, concentric circles of dark gray ripples bloomed from their fingertips, passing through their bodies and spreading silently in all directions.

"You—" the woman said with difficulty, her wand in her hand, but she couldn't lift it even an inch.

“You see, I sometimes use this perspective to observe the world and magic; it’s quite interesting,” Felix explained, his attitude remaining unchanged throughout.

But Rita Skeeter doesn't think so.

“What you’re doing…is illegal…Azkaban…” she said, her lips moving with great difficulty, each word distinct.

“Rita, Rita, you don’t think I’d do anything bad to you, do you?” Felix said, amused. “I just asked you, do you really know me?”

"It's obvious you don't know me."

"One of your colleagues advised you not to make a move on me? I bet he's a Slytherin."

Rita Skeeter's eyes were fixed on him.

Felix said calmly, “When I was in fifth grade, I visited a few stubborn pure-blood families during my vacation, and they never talked about me in public again.”

Do you know why?

She widened her eyes.

“Whose power do you think I need to rely on to fight against the threat of the extreme pure-blood families? No, Rita,” he said softly, “I’m just showing them one possibility.”

As Felix's emotions fluctuated, the white and gray of the entire world quickly turned into an inky black, a deep and oppressive darkness.

Rita Skeeter's body trembled slightly.

“Yes, one possibility is that if I become the Dark Lord…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

The darkness quickly faded, restoring the stark black and white to its original state, like an old, faded photograph.

"Thinking about it carefully, I'm actually quite easy to talk to. As long as you don't bother me, I don't have time to deal with you. But unfortunately, unfortunately—"

"You're blocking my way..."

Ignoring her, Felix picked up the parchment on the table and began to read it casually.

Before he knew it, the parchment had filled a foot with content, which made him both amused and exasperated. If the young wizards at Hogwarts had this ability to make things up, they would be laughing in their dreams.

"Tsk tsk!"