Chapter 778: The Boy with Treasures
Chapter 778: The Boy with Treasures
"What are you doing here?"
Albert had just left Hagrid and was on his way back to the castle when he encountered a familiar face who shouldn't have been at Hogwarts.
"I was invited here," Rita Skeeter replied, her eyes drifting down to the briefcase in Albert's hand, which was shaking slightly. Curiosity getting the better of her, she asked, "What's in the briefcase?"
"How much did old Malfoy pay you?" Albert asked abruptly.
"He's quite generous," Rita Skeeter said with a smile.
"That guy has deep pockets, that's for sure. I wonder how much he's spent trying to get rid of Hagrid's hippogriff," Albert commented sarcastically.
"Do you think the hippogriff is innocent?" Rita Skeeter seemed intrigued and wanted to hear Albert's take on the matter.
"It's quite simple, really," Albert said calmly. "Someone deliberately provoked the creature and got bitten, and now they're blaming the hippogriff and trying to have it put down."
"You seem to know a lot about it," Rita Skeeter probed, as she indeed had some understanding of the situation, and it seemed to match what Albert had just described.
However, the truth didn't matter much to her.
As a journalist, her main concern was selling newspapers.
The so-called truth often took a back seat when there were sales to be made.
"Who do you think will win this time?" she asked persistently.
"Hagrid never had a chance. He's got no money or influence to bribe the Ministry officials, so he's already at a disadvantage," Albert explained.
"Do you think the Ministry is corrupt?" Rita Skeeter continued her line of questioning.
"At the very least, they've never been impartial," Albert said as he stopped walking and turned to face Rita Skeeter. "I can give you a scoop—something that will make my point clear soon enough."
"What's going to happen?" Rita Skeeter asked, intrigued. "Are the rumors true that you're some kind of prophet?"
"If you want to know, you'll have to wait and see," Albert replied mysteriously.
"Come on, at least tell me what's in the briefcase. It looks like it's moving," Rita Skeeter urged, her attention back on the trembling case.
"It's a Boggart," Albert said without hesitation. "I just got it from Hagrid. Are you interested in writing a story about Boggarts?"
As he spoke, Albert made a move to open the case, as if to show her the creature inside.
"No, I'm not interested in that. I'm more interested in you," Rita Skeeter said, trying to keep the conversation going.
"That's too bad, because I'm not interested in you," Albert replied bluntly.
"People are interested in you. Oh, wait, don't walk away. I can tell you a secret," she called out.
"Not interested," Albert said, turning away and continuing towards the entrance hall.
Rita Skeeter had no choice but to hurry after him, feeling like she had just run into a brick wall. She had clearly hit a sore spot with Albert, and her usually charming demeanor had gotten her nowhere.
"I heard that Wizenagamot is planning to bestow upon you the title of Wizenagamot British Youth Representative," Rita Skeeter said, her eyes fixed on Albert's face, trying to gauge his reaction.
"You know I don't like seeing my name in the newspapers," Albert warned. "I don't want our conversation to end up in the paper."
"Of course, I know. I won't let it appear in the paper. I promise," Rita Skeeter assured him.
"Your promises are worthless," Albert said calmly. "And even if you did, I'm not worried because you can't afford the consequences."
For some reason, Rita Skeeter felt a chill run down her spine at his words, and her smile froze on her face.
"We have a cooperative relationship, and I've always kept our agreement," she said, trying to salvage the situation.
"Well, I have heard about this from other friends," Albert admitted. "But I haven't received any formal notification, so I think the title of Wizenagamot British Youth Representative is probably just a rumor."
"As far as I know, it's true. The paperwork is being processed at the Ministry," Rita Skeeter said after a moment's hesitation, lowering her voice. "And they offered quite a sum of money."
"Oh," Albert nodded, acknowledging the information.
"Your reaction is quite abnormal," Rita Skeeter commented.
"What reaction do you expect me to have? It's just a title, and whether I have it or not doesn't make a difference," Albert said as he headed towards the entrance hall with the briefcase in hand.
"Doesn't make a difference?" Rita Skeeter felt a little deflated.
It made sense, though. Albert already had two world-class champion titles to his name, and who knew how many more he could potentially achieve?
If he kept competing, there was no telling how many more accolades he could earn.
With all the titles he already had, the Wizenagamot British Youth Representative title seemed rather insignificant.
According to Rita Skeeter's latest information, Albert had apparently invented an important spell and was in the running for a Merlin First Class honor.
They had no choice but to make room for him, or risk becoming a laughingstock themselves.
"What a waste of a treasure boy," Rita Skeeter muttered to herself as she watched Albert's retreating back. "It's a shame we can't dig deeper, or people might start to think I'm obsessed."
Rita Skeeter knew better than to push her luck with Albert. She feared that if she probed too deeply, she might meet an untimely end. The cold feeling she had gotten earlier was no illusion—Albert was definitely not as mild-mannered as he appeared.
"So, you know him well?"
A voice interrupted Rita Skeeter's thoughts soon after Albert had left.
"I've interviewed him once. He's not an easy person to deal with," Rita Skeeter replied.
"I thought that was your area of expertise," Lucius Malfoy commented as he walked towards the entrance hall, accompanied by a blond-haired boy.
"Writing about him isn't worth the effort," Rita Skeeter said with a shrug.
Noticing the boy, she asked, "Is this the person in question? May I interview him?"
"Now is not a good time. You can interview him after the appeal," Lucius instructed the boy, who nodded silently.
"Where will the appeal take place? In Dumbledore's office?" Rita Skeeter asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
"Yes, in the Headmaster's office. I'm here to accompany Draco to the hearing. I believe the representative from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures should be arriving soon," Lucius said, checking his pocket watch. "Dumbledore will make a fine witness. Ah, here they are."
Two male witches were approaching, one elderly and the other tall and burly, carrying a shiny axe.
"I thought you weren't going to come," the middle-aged wizard greeted Lucius.
"I hadn't planned to, but..." Lucius trailed off, indicating that he wanted to make sure things went according to plan.
He had even spent a considerable amount of galleons to ensure that Rita Skeeter's report only included what he wanted the public to know.
As the group entered the castle, they noticed several unfriendly gazes fixed upon them.
Turning their heads, they saw Harry and his two best friends glaring at them with disdain.
"That's Harry Potter, the famous savior," Lucius remarked with a hint of mockery in his tone as he introduced the boy to his companions. "But I hear he's being hunted by Black."
Draco hadn't forgotten the beating he received the other day, and he shot a malevolent smile at the trio. Turning to Rita Skeeter, he said, "Potter has been trying to exonerate Buckbeak, and they even want to set that beast free. If it weren't for that big..."
"Shut up, Draco," Lucius snapped, glaring at his son.
After the group disappeared from view, Ron spat on the ground contemptuously and said, "This is what the Ministry calls an appeal? They even have the axe ready; it's disgusting."
"Don't forget, Albert told us not to get involved in this matter," Hermione reprimanded Ron, her eyes flashing with anger.
"I regret it," Harry said, his face darkening as he watched the retreating figures. "Last time, I shouldn't have stopped you from turning Malfoy into a beast."
"If Buckbeak loses his head, we'll stuff Malfoy's head into a toilet," Ron suggested, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That kind of scum deserves nothing less."
"We should trust Albert; he must have prepared everything. Hagrid won't lose this appeal easily," Hermione added, though she longed to seek out Albert. But she was worried that she might mess things up.
In truth, Albert had indeed prepared teaching materials for Hagrid's appeal and a set of special cards, but they were not meant to help Hagrid with his current predicament; they were meant to torment the Malfoy family.
At that moment, inside the Headmaster's office...
Hagrid was organizing the cards Albert had given him the day before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask, taking a large gulp of the calming potion within.
"I'm glad you've prepared for the appeal," Dumbledore said, watching Hagrid drink. "Is that the calming potion Mr. Anderson gave you?"
"He said I should drink some calming potion to express my thoughts clearly during the appeal and not be swayed by my emotions," Hagrid explained, wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. In a lowered voice, he added, "He also gave me these cards, and I'm sure I'll win the case today."
"Mr. Anderson is always reliable," Dumbledore said, his eyes calm as he regarded the serene Hagrid. However, he sighed inwardly, knowing that Hagrid's chances of victory were slim.
"Actually, Anderson told me that my chances of winning are slim, so he told me to prepare myself mentally, hence the calming potion. He always says that panicking won't solve anything," Hagrid shared, his cheeks stiffening as he tried to maintain his calm demeanor. His hands still trembled slightly, a testament to the resistance his giant blood had to the potion.
"Didn't that Mr. Anderson fellow give you a better solution?" one of the portraits on the wall inquired, curiosity piqued. "I hear he's the smartest student Hogwarts has ever seen. Though, it's quite odd that he ended up in Gryffindor."
"That was Mr. Anderson's own wish," the Sorting Hat on the shelf interjected, not wanting to take the blame for this decision.
"Yes, he did. When the incident happened at the start of the school year, Albert suggested that I send Buckbeak away, and I really regret not taking his advice," Hagrid admitted, his eyes widening as he recalled his mistake.
"He certainly has foresight," another portrait commented, "and I hear that Mr. Anderson is also a prophet."
"I heard from an old friend that the Ministry plans to bestow upon him the title of Wizenagamot British Youth Representative," one of the portraits in the office chimed in, unable to keep quiet any longer.
"No," Hagrid shook his head. "The Ministry seems to be deliberately stalling the title, saying that they're going through the formalities. By the time the Ministry finishes their process, Albert will probably be an adult already."
"Just a title? With the level of talent Albert has shown, I doubt that title would make much of a difference to him," one of the portraits mused.
"It's hard to imagine that such a genius is a Muggle-born wizard," another portrait added, intrigued.
"Don't be foolish, Efora. That boy is no Muggle-born," Phineas interrupted rudely. "He has Smith family blood."
"Is Albert a pure-blood wizard?" Hagrid's eyes widened in surprise, as this piece of information didn't align with what Albert had told him about his parents being Muggles.
"I believe Mr. Anderson knows," Dumbledore said, his fingers intertwined as he remained calm. "But he probably doesn't want anyone to bring it up."
Dumbledore's words piqued the curiosity of the portraits, and they wondered what the Smith family had done to cause such a rift that their genius descendant was wandering the outside world.
"Because of some unpleasant events, Mr. Anderson's grandfather was cast out of the Smith family, so their relationship is quite poor," Dumbledore shared, choosing not to divulge further details.
"I know," Phineas suddenly spoke up, drawing curious glances from the others.
"Come on, Phineas, don't keep us in suspense," one of the portraits urged, eager for more information.
An elderly wizard in the portrait even brandished his cane, threateningly saying, "Spill it, or I'll whack you."
"Squib," was the blunt reply.
The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as the word 'squib' hung in the air. In most wizarding families, the word 'squib' was a sensitive topic, a taboo that no one wanted to discuss.
And yet, the irony was that the descendant of a squib was now a genius in their midst.
The silence in the Headmaster's office was broken by a sudden knock on the door.
The portraits on the walls quickly pretended to be asleep.
Hagrid opened the door and saw Lucius among the group of people. He barely managed to contain his anger as he glared at the man. "What are you doing here?"
"My dear friend, believe me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here to witness your appeal," Lucius replied, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Well then, shall we begin?" Dumbledore said, breaking the tense atmosphere. With a wave of his wand, he conjured several armchairs.
"Draco, stay by my side," Lucius instructed, pulling his son away from Hagrid, fearful that the half-giant might harm his son if things got out of hand.
"Very well, then. Let's begin the appeal for the case of the hippogriff injuring a student," the elderly wizard said after seeking Dumbledore's consent. He pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket and, after scanning its contents, narrowed his eyes and addressed Hagrid. "You disagree with the previous death sentence and wish to change it to compensation for the victim's medical expenses, correct?"
"Yes."
"So, you admit that the hippogriff is guilty, then?"
(End of Chapter)
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