"Well. This is cozy," Rita Skeeter said with a sickening smile as they settled into the broom cupboard. It was the Weighing of the Wands ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament, an event where a professional wandmaker ensured that the wands of the contestants were in perfect working order. She had taken one look at him, grinned in a way that Harry could only describe as hungry, and latched onto his arm to pull him away to a broom closet.

Harry was a bit nervous, and more than a bit miffed at her brazenness, but she was only a persistent reporter. How bad could she be? He idly watched as she pulled a notepad and quill out of-

Oh Wizard God she had a Quick Quotes Quill.

Hermione had warned him about those. They were like Dictaquills, but they printed nothing you said truthfully. In fact, they pretty much made up their own sentences. With dread in his stomach, Harry watched her balance the quill on her notepad, and as she it was she began rapid-firing questions at him.

Even though he wasn't even saying one word the quill was scribbling furiously, and Harry managed to catch a few words written on the pad before the quill flipped the page.

He was immediately angered.

'Cry myself to sleep over the thought of my parents?!' he mentally screeched, growing angrier and angrier by the second. How dare she write those things to be printed in the newspaper?!

Finally, though, a sense of calm, cool clarity stole over him as something inside him that never really healed since the incidents from first and second year...snapped. For the third time.

And then the clarity was gone, to be replaced by an insanity rivaling Voldemort's.

"LIES!" he shrieked, seizing the quill and pad and kicking the door open, "You're writing lies about me! How dare you?!"

The other contestants, Ludo, and Ollivander watched with slack jaws as the Boy-Who-Lived, their Illicit Champion of Hogwarts, went utterly and completely bonkers. "Well, I won't stand for it!" he ranted with fire in his eyes, "You wanna send lies about me to the Prophet? Fine! Then I'll send truths about you!"

He ripped the written-on pages out of the notepad and threw them in the nearby fireplace before balancing the quill and dictating to the scared-straight magical object, "Rita Skeeter, celebrated Head Reporter of the Daily Prophet, is in fact an unregistered Animagus!"

Ignoring the shocked gasps of those in attendance he continued, "This reporter has discovered that she can, at will, assume the form of a jewel-blue beetle in order to spy on those who have refused her an interview! The next time you want to discuss anything of any great importance, liberal amounts of bug spray is recommended."

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Rita trying to sneak out the door, but a flick of his wand stopped that notion. "Going so soon? I wouldn't hear of it. Why, my little party's just beginning," he said, a manic look in his eye.

He turned back to the quill. "Wow, she really is a horrible person," he mused, grinning at Cedric's laughing before wondering, "I wonder what her Patronus is? Maybe it's Lord Voldemort. Or a Dementor! Or perhaps it's the illegitimate, drunken love-child of said Dark Lord and magical creature! A Voldementor."

He grinned wider at Fleur's giggles, muffled by a hand, and continued, "And what of her Boggart's form? What is her biggest fear? Happiness, maybe? Rainbows, perhaps? How about the laughter of children? Maybe she herself is a Boggart, and Rita Skeeter is simply everybody else's greatest fear!"

Now even Krum was laughing, a deep rumbling chuckle that shook the desks around them.

Ollivander was rolling about on the floor, and Ludo Bagman was snickering quietly, in case you were wondering.

Harry smiled even wider and plucked the paper from the notepad, holding his arm up and calling for Hedwig. As the bird flew in through the nearby window, Rita's eyes widened, and she cried out, "No, please don't! I – I didn't mean for my quill to write things like that! It was an accident, honest!"

"Well, my little pretty, I can cause accidents too!" Harry said gleefully, tying the page to Hedwig's leg with an expert quickness and throwing his arm up. "Fly, my pretty, fly!" he yelled after his owl with a bout of maniacal laughter, then looked at Rita and warned, "And if you even think about trying this on anybody, ever again, I'll come after you. Just try to stay out of my way, just try. I'll get you, my pretty, and your little quill too!"

Then he unshrunk his Firebolt from its place in his pocket, kissed Cedric full on the mouth, and jumped out the window with a cry of, "To the Emerald City, as fast as lightning!"