Rita Wants to Find Out

Chapter 368 Rita Wants to Find Out (6.1K) (1/2)

At the other end of the classroom, Rita Skeeter did not immediately put away her shorthand notebook and the rustling green quill pen.

She leaned against the frame of the simple cubicle, seemingly arranging her crocodile skin handbag casually, but her eyes, hidden behind her jeweled glasses, were scanning the scene by the window with the sharpness of a probe.

Her gaze swept over the still-excited Ollivander, then over the calm Lynch, and finally locked onto Harry Potter, who had just approached them.

Experience had taught her that after an unpleasant interview, people usually tend to gravitate towards those who make them feel safe or familiar. Porter's almost instinctive walk toward Lynch and Ollivander's location was a signal in itself.

The subtle details that followed made a glint of light flash in her eyes.

When Mr. Ollivander turned to Harry and explained the wand test in that slightly elusive yet friendly tone, Harry listened attentively, but his posture shifted slightly toward Lynch's position—his shoulders were no longer as tense as they had been in the cubicle, showing a subtle relaxation.

It wasn't the distant, respectful attitude a student usually shows to a professor; rather, it was more like an unconscious approach and trust.

Especially when Lynch's gaze briefly fell on Harry's face—Rita caught that moment—the pallor and stiffness that remained on Harry's face from her interview questions eased almost imperceptibly.

There was no verbal communication, not even a clear change in expression, but the subtle shift in atmosphere did not escape Rita's experienced eyes, which were adept at discerning emotions.

This is not a simple teacher-student relationship, nor is it the warrior's ordinary dependence on his mentor.

This is a deeper, almost instinctive trust, as if Lynch's very presence could provide Harry with some kind of invisible support or protection. This trust is often built on a more personal or intimate connection that goes beyond classroom teaching.

Rita's lips curved upwards almost imperceptibly, into a cold, professional smile.

The quill pen trembled excitedly on the parchment, leaving behind a few hastily written but crucial words: "Trust—Subconscious—Sanctuary—Special Bond—"

It seems that, besides the "boy who survived" and the "cheating mystery," there may be some other "stories" worth exploring and more likely to capture the reader's attention between this mysterious professor of magic studies at Hogwarts and his young warrior students.

She gently pushed up her glasses, a habitual gesture she made when she sensed something secret behind a major news story.

Soon after, Headmaster Dumbledore arrived with several judges—Mrs. Maxim, Karkaroff, Bagman, and Mr. Crouch—and the atmosphere in the classroom immediately became more formal.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Mr. Ollivander began to examine the wands of the four warriors one by one.

He accurately described the material, length, and core of each wand, and briefly evaluated their characteristics and advantages in combat. Fleur's wand was exquisitely crafted, Cedric's wand was honest and reliable, and Krum's wand was strong and durable.

When it was Harry's turn, Mr. Ollivander stroked the holly wand, affirming its perfect synergy and excellent performance with Harry. He then gently shook his head, pointing out, with a mild but clear tone, that the wand had clearly "neglected necessary care" recently; some small scratches and dust were visible on its surface, which might slightly affect its optimal response. Harry lowered his head somewhat ashamed; the recent string of troubles and intensive training had indeed caused him to neglect this important companion.

After the testing was completed, a group photo session was held for promotional purposes.

The four warriors were positioned in the center, with Dumbledore and several referees standing behind or to the side. Rita Skeeter directed the photographers, attempting to create various "story-rich" shots. Lynch, on the other hand, stood quietly at the very edge of the crowd throughout, like an detached observer, with only the raven on his shoulder occasionally turning its head, its black eyes reflecting the flashing camera lights.

In the underground classroom, during a break in special training, Lynch's gaze fell on Cedric, who was slightly out of breath and trying to adjust his breathing.

The intense, high-pressure combat simulations over the past few days have made the characteristics of this usually calm and collected Hufflepuff student even clearer. He is not the kind of wizard who has flashes of inspiration, but he has a solid foundation, is meticulous in his spellcasting, and has an innate patience and tenacity, especially in protective and enduring magic.

Apparition is undoubtedly his best means of escaping during battle.

Lynch himself was very familiar with this magic.

The problem is that this magic requires focused, clear intention, and time—even just a fleeting second or two can become a fatal flaw in the ever-changing close combat or high-intensity magical clashes.

Cedric's skill in this magic was not yet high enough to allow him to perform precise teleportation in the blink of an eye.

But he has other things.

Lynch saw Cedric's instinctive prioritization of constructing obstacles and armor spells when facing the statues' attack, and his instinct to stabilize himself and strengthen his defenses rather than blindly retreat when hit. His magical nature is "defense," "fortification," and "stability." Forcing him into a hit-and-run assassin would not only be counterproductive but could also stifle his true strengths.

Therefore, the path became clear.

"Your core isn't running," Lynch pointed out to Cedric during a post-training debriefing, his voice calm yet incisive, "but rather shifting positions. Utilize your strength in building defenses to transform your location into a fortress that the enemy can hardly breach quickly. This doesn't require your defenses to be indestructible—there isn't one that needs to be incredibly sturdy enough to buy you those few seconds of clarity and calm needed to Apparate."

Cedric's eyes lit up; he immediately understood the logic behind it.

This is not an escape, but a planned strategic shift.

He only needs to stack multiple protective spells more efficiently and quickly, rely on the protection to fight the enemy, and while enduring the attack, accurately judge the limit of the protection system, and activate the transfer at the moment before the limit is reached.

"What about the Anti-Apparition Charm?" Cedric had raised this reasonable concern.

Lynch glanced at him, his eyes expressionless: "That's a high-level binding spell that requires considerable focus, magic power, and time to cast successfully. If your opponent can still execute it with ease while you're fully focused on maintaining your defenses, watching intently for an opening, or preparing to relocate—"

He paused slightly, allowing Cedric to consider the scenario on his own.

"—That means he has already suppressed me in multiple dimensions of magical ability." Cedric concluded, his tone becoming serious and clear-headed. "Faced with an opponent like that, the tactical options are extremely limited. At that point, whether or not I can successfully Apparate may no longer be the key."

"Recognizing this is also part of the battle," Lynch nodded.

He teaches not only techniques, but also a clear understanding of oneself and one's opponent.

This system, centered on "defense and transition," allows Cedric to maximize his talent, enabling him to first establish an invincible position against most opponents of the same or even slightly higher level before seeking victory.

As for those truly powerful individuals who can ignore his defenses and easily restrict space—that's a matter of another level.

What Cedric needs now is a practical fighting strategy that can cope with the Triwizard Tournament and even potential future risks.

As for Harry—

Lynch's gaze swept over the boy who was practicing the Spell of Attack repeatedly on the sandbags on the other side of the open space.

His movements were still somewhat awkward and hesitant, and his magic output was sometimes strong and sometimes weak, which was only at the above-average level of a fourth-year student.

Stripping away the aura of the "boy who survived" and all the rumors surrounding him, and simply evaluating him as a fourth-year student at Hogwarts, his strengths are actually exceptionally clear, even extreme.

First and foremost, what is most impressive is his almost instinctive flying ability on the Quidditch pitch.

Lynch had watched his matches; it wasn't just technical skill, but an intuitive connection with the broom, the airflow, and three-dimensional space. Riding on his broom, Harry was like a mermaid returning to water, possessing a freedom and agility unbound by the earth. This was an extremely precious talent, one that was difficult to achieve through training alone.

Secondly, there's that simple, even somewhat unremarkable spell to eliminate your weapon.

Harry's compatibility with this spell was so high that even Lynch was secretly surprised.

This connection transcends the realm of ordinary "proficiency"; it's more like a resonance inherent in the very essence of magic. The speed, accuracy, and stability under pressure with which he casts this spell far surpass any other magic he possesses, even exceeding Seamus Finigan's unstable yet powerful affinity for explosive spells—it's more focused and efficient.

This suggests that a certain quality at the core of Harry's magic tends towards disarmament and ending direct violence, rather than destruction or killing.

A top-tier flying talent, and an extremely specialized "disarming" spell.

The combination of these two points to a path that couldn't be clearer.

Traditional wizard duels or ground battles require a relatively comprehensive spellbook, solid offensive and defensive transitions, and a strong sense of position – this is precisely the path Cedric is taking.

But Harry doesn't have that foundation, and forcing it in would only obscure his strengths.

Lynch designed a completely different, even somewhat unorthodox, combat philosophy for him: pure air-to-ground guerrilla warfare.

Imagine this: a high-speed, elusive aerial unit whose core attack method is not a variety of damaging spells, but a precise, fast, and unpredictable "expel-me-not" weapon.

He doesn't need to engage in complex spell exchanges with the enemy, nor does he need to withstand powerful area-of-effect attacks. His task is to utilize his unparalleled mobility to maintain an advantage in distance and angle, like a top Seeker catching the Golden Snitch, to find gaps in the enemy's defenses, disarm them with a single blow, and then quickly disengage to seek another opportunity.

The core of this tactic is "movement," "disruption," and "control."

It abandoned its position in exchange for absolute speed advantage and tactical initiative.

It perfectly complements Harry's talent: his ability to fly provides the stage, and the "Expelliarmus" is the most suitable, efficient, and precise finishing move to perform on that stage. Of course, this requires extremely rigorous flight control training, the ability to cast spells stably while moving at high speeds, and a deep understanding of the possibilities of applying the "Expelliarmus" in various situations.

This is undoubtedly a high-risk and high-difficulty path, but for Harry right now, it may be the only way to maximize his limited advantages and thus gain a chance of survival in dangerous matches.

Lynch watched as Harry failed to summon again due to unstable spellcasting while moving, his face expressionless.

Watching the sandbag leap a few inches into the air before falling limply back down, Harry felt a growing anxiety. He knew why he had to practice this; Uncle Lynch had explicitly told him that the Triwizard Tournament was strictly off-limits to any magical items other than wands when warriors entered—otherwise, the tournament would become a pathetic contest of financial resources and reserves between schools.

Therefore, if Harry wanted to utilize his unique flying ability, he had to rely on himself to summon his broomsticks within the arena. The Summoning Charm thus became an indispensable first step in this crucial tactic.

This realization made him take every tedious practice session seriously.

He was not only practicing a spell, but also building his own unique "escape route" and "combat platform".

Despite his exhaustion, and despite the fact that the spell was not easy for him to master at the moment, he practiced with utmost seriousness because he knew that it could be a crucial factor in determining life or death on the field.

The offices of The Daily Prophet were filled with the smells of parchment, ink, and the distinctive odor of working late into the night.

After handing over the meticulously crafted, sensational "interview" with Harry Potter to the editor, Rita Skeeter did not leave immediately.

She walked into the editor-in-chief's office with a professional smile on her face, but her finger precisely pointed to a sample photo of the warriors that had just been developed that day.

“Barnabas,” she leaned closer, her voice lowered, with the inquisitive tone of a journalist, “the man standing on the far right of this photo is Professor Lynch, the Hogwarts Magic Studies professor. I asked Bagman, and he only vaguely said he was a professor; I asked Barty Crouch—”

She paused here, the scene flashing through her mind: when she asked Crouch about Lynch, the usually meticulous and almost rigid Director of the Department of International Magical Cooperation neither gave the usual official response nor flatly refused, but instead glanced at her with an extremely strange look.

There was no warning or information in that gaze; it was more like an assessment? Or perhaps it was the look of someone who knew the inside story, a look mixed with subtle caution and a hint of barely perceptible pity, as if an uninformed person were rashly stepping into a certain field? Just a glance, yet it made Rita feel a strange unease, as if her question had inadvertently knocked on a door that shouldn't have been noticed.

She shook off the momentary discomfort and continued to Barnabas-Guffey, "Crouch didn't answer at all. Isn't that interesting? A Hogwarts professor, not exactly a secret figure, yet two Ministry officials are keeping quiet about him. Do we have anything about him in our archives? Or have you heard of him from those old clerks in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who often drink fire whiskey with you, or from one of those Parkinson family members who likes to brag about inside stories in the salon?" She winked knowingly, hinting at Barnabas-Guffey's secret sources within the Ministry of Magic or in the salons of pure-blood families.

Barnabas-Guffey, a balding, shrewd old wizard, looked up from behind his desk piled high with manuscripts, adjusted his glasses, and carefully examined the blurry figure but aloof demeanor of the man at the edge of the photograph.

He was silent for a few seconds, seemingly recalling something, or perhaps weighing his options.

"—Jim Lynch." Barnabas finally spoke, his voice lower. "His public identity is a professor at Hogwarts. But as far as I know, his other, more practical identity is that of a high-ranking director of the Stone Tower Merchant Guild." He paused, recalling his experience in the Ministry of Magic's temporary command office at Hogsmeade, and added, "Moreover, his position seems—very unusual. I remember even the Minister of Magic maintained a—subtle distance and a respectful but distant attitude towards him."

"The Stone Tower Merchant Guild?" Rita raised an eyebrow, but this information clearly didn't satisfy her. "A high-ranking member of a merchant guild? That sounds—not enough. A director of a merchant guild, going to Hogwarts to teach those little brats magic research?"

This doesn't make sense. Bagman and Crouch's reactions are also off. There must be more.

Barnabas frowned as he looked at the familiar, inquisitive, predatory glint in Rita's eyes.

"Skeet, listen to me, that's enough. He's a really big shot, and there are probably deep things going on behind the scenes. He's not someone we usually write gossip about. Don't get involved with him."

"A big shot? We write plenty about Minister Fudge all the time..." Rita scoffed, her bright red fingernails tapping Lynch's photo again. "It's precisely because he's a big shot that his condescending to teach at Hogwarts seems all the more unusual, isn't it? There must be some extraordinary reason behind it—or a secret. Readers will love that." She leaned forward, a hint of provocation in her voice. "And, editor, if he's a big shot at the Stone Tower Merchant Guild, then that recently emerged..."

The Shita Daily, which is always trying to steal our business, must be getting a piece of the pie too, right? They've already reached into our rice bowls, and you're still telling me to stop?

'

Barnabas pursed his lips, the only sound in the office being the low hum of the typesetting machine in the distance.

He took off his glasses and slowly wiped them, seemingly considering his words. After a while, he put his glasses back on, looked at Rita, and his eyes no longer held the admonition he had just given, only a businesslike indifference and a hint of barely perceptible aloofness.

"Based on my observations—Jim Lynch is more than just rich or powerful," Barnabas's voice was flat and emotionless. "He himself is very likely an extremely powerful wizard, truly ranking among the top in the magical world's individual combat strength. Provoking someone like that has unpredictable consequences. Skeeter, if you insist on digging this deep, remember: this is your personal professional endeavor. The Daily Prophet is completely unaware of it and will not be responsible for any potential consequences. Do you understand what I mean?"

Rita Skeeter's smile remained unchanged, even brighter: "I never," she said slowly, closing her crocodile-skin handbag and tucking the photograph sample into an elegant folder, "can ever get caught. Thank you for reminding me, Barnabas."

After saying that, she straightened her back, put on her high heels, and with a confident air as if she had grasped some key clue, turned and left Barnabas's cubicle, leaving Barnabas to slowly and heavily shake his head as he watched her departing figure.

He knew that some troubles, once Rita Skeeter caught wind of them, were destined to escalate rapidly. And that man named Lynch had clearly become her next target.

Barnabas slowly leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the table, a lingering worry on his brow.

I wonder if this will cause trouble for The Daily Prophet.

He muttered to himself. Rita Skeeter was a sharp and uncontrollable double-edged sword; her "digging" often came with unpredictable risks, and this target—Jim Lynch—was clearly far more dangerous than the average politician or sports star.

The man's occasional chilling aura and the Ministry of Magic's high-ranking officials' reticence towards him both alerted the experienced Barnabas to unusual danger.

But—Rita, that woman, was right about one thing.

His gaze swept over a newly published copy of the *Stone Tower Daily* on the corner of the table. Its concise and powerful layout and its ever-expanding influence felt like a thorn in his side. The Stone Tower Chamber of Commerce had expanded rapidly in recent years, its reach extending far beyond commerce; now it was directly venturing into the media sphere, openly vying for a share of the pie. As the editor-in-chief of the *Prophet's Daily*, he faced immense pressure from shareholders and the market.

The rules of the game in upper-class society are intricate and complex; it would be foolish to directly confront them or tear off the mask of civility.

However, simply backing down is not the solution. Perhaps, by borrowing Rita Skeeter's pen, which knows nothing of "restraint," to gently lift the veil of that mysterious Professor Lynch, to probe the truth, or even to create a small, controllable ripple, letting the other party know that the Daily Prophet is not powerless to fight back, it would be a subtle warning and gesture.

Risk and reward sway on both sides of the scale.

Barnabas finally took a deep breath, temporarily suppressing his worries. He picked up the next manuscript awaiting review, his gaze becoming focused and astute once more. In the world of media, sometimes, cautious risk-taking is part of survival.

As for what Rita might dig up, and the storm it might cause—he could only hope that this time the knife wouldn't turn around and injure the hand holding it.