Chronicles Of Arth: Prince Of Shadows

"Come along, dear - that's right - lovely," said Rita Skeeter again, perching herself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing Arth down onto a cardboard box, and closing the door, throwing them into darkness. "Let's see now. ."

She unsnapped her crocodile-skin handbag and pulled out a handful of candles, which she lit with a wave of her wand and magicked into midair, so that they could see what they were doing.

"You won't mind, Arthur, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally. .."

"Please don't-"

"Fantastic."

Rita Skeeter's smile widened. Arth counted three

gold teeth. She reached again into her crocodile bag and drew out a long acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which she stretched out between them on a crate of Mrs. Skower's All- Purpose Magical Mess Remover. She put the tip of the green quill into her mouth, s.u.c.k.e.d it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

"Testing. . . my name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter."

Arth looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Rita Skeeter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, who's savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations -

"Lovely," said Rita Skeeter, yet again, and she ripped the top piece of parchment off, crumpled it up, and stuffed it into her handbag.

Now she leaned toward Arthur and said, "So, Arthur... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Er -" said Arth again, glancing at the quill.

Not to talk to you.

"Ignore the quill, Arthur," said Rita Skeeter firmly.

Reluctantly Arthur looked up at her instead. "Now -- why did you decide to enter the tournament, Arthur?"

"To make the whole world know my name," said Arth while rolling his eyes. "I wanted to be known."

Rita Skeeter raised one heavily penciled eyebrow.

"I see. . . . A d.e.s.i.r.e to prove yourself. How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Rita Skeeter. "Excited? Nervous?"

"Very challenging, I suppose. But not impossible," said Arth. He was slowly getting into bullshitting with Rita Skeeter.

"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Rita Skeeter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

"I believe that the danger of death is what is going to keep me alive," said Arth with a smile on his face.

The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating.

"Of course, you've looked danger in the face before, haven't you? As Harry Potter's best friend," said Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"

"It lets me know that in the face of danger, the worst thing to do is to freeze up. If you are scared, then fight for your life until you die," said Arth, putting on a heroic face.

"Do you have a trauma in your past?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because-"

"I want to make sure people remember me as Arthur Kingscrown, not Harry Potter's Friend." said Arth, starting to feel inspired. "That way, I can be a better friend towards him."

"How do you think your parents would feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

"They would expect me to defy all expectations and survive."

Time passed without them noticing and the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. Arthur looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard.

"The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard." said Dumbledore with a smile.