Once they were back at Hogwarts, breathing hard, their blood pumping and hot, they found that Hagrid was positively traumatized, but Millie slapped him a couple of times and set him as right as she could. They both knew that he would probably rat them out to Dumbledore the minute that he was left alone, but there wasn't much that they could do about that now, and, besides, they had gotten the wand.
Hagrid still gave him the other wand, and though Moxxie wanted to refuse, Millie agreed that it would be best to 'keep it handy just in case. She was right, too - they didn't know if this other wand would even work on Moxxie. After Hagrid had gathered his bearings, he suddenly remembered he had to take Harry to some weird salon with the rest of the 'champions' so that he could get interviewed. They were ahead on schedule, though, due to the hasty escape. They accompanied Millie back to the room, and before Hagrid and Moxxie left, she gave him a big kiss, slapped his ass, and wished him luck with his interview. Moxxie smiled weakly.
After all the excitement of the day, the last thing he had thought of were those stupid interviews, but now that the moment had come, he actually felt fairly nervous. He looked beside him to Hagrid, who also looked nervous, but probably because of the situation they had just gone through, not the one to come. Moxxie cleared his throat. "Sorry about all that… before, in Diagon Alley," he said, putting as much meaning to his words as he could. After everything, he didn't mind having all these crazy powerful wizards against him, but he still wanted Hagrid on his side, who had been the only truly decent human that they had met so far. Hagrid let out a hard breath as if he had been waiting for things to be better between them to breathe finally. "To tell ye the truth, Har, I understand why you did it. It's not right what happened at Ollivander's. I'm on your side, I really am," he said, looking at Moxxie meaningfully. "But stealing another wizard's wand…" he fell into silence. "Well, I suppose he'll make do," he said with a strained chuckle.
Moxxie also gave him a little laugh, and Hagrid clapped him on the back. Moxxie almost spat out a lung. He thought there was something more serious on Hagrid's face - could Moxxie be sentenced to death if they caught him stealing in this wizarding world? He didn't know the consequences of these things, but this wasn't the time to think about it, anyway. "Anyhow, here we are," Hagrid announced as they reach a pair of fancy-looking double doors. Moxxie waited for Hagrid to open the doors, but after the seconds passed, and he just looked around, displaced, he realized that he wouldn't. "I'm supposed to go in alone?"
He asked, gulping. "Afraid so, Har. But don't worry, you'll be fine," Hagrid assured him with that surprisingly simultaneously sweet and gruff voice of his. Moxxie took in a deep breath, smiled at Hagrid one last time, and opened the doors. Inside, it was almost an exact replica of Dumbledore's office the night that he had arrived. That was, the people standing around huddled in the same little pairs, not the layout of the room. There were three teenagers and two adults: the gigantic woman with the strange bob was standing beside the slender blonde girl; the stained-toothed man hovered by the stocky, nearly-bald guy; and finally there was just an ordinary-looking fellow, looking at nothing in particular, standing alone against one of the walls. They all turned to stare at Moxxie once he entered, and he almost expected the adults to steer their 'children' away once he did, given the distrustful looks on their faces.
Moxxie stepped forward, unsure of where to go. No one seemed particularly welcoming. "Ridiculous," the gigantic woman said in her thick accent, looking at him distastefully. "Putting this… strange adult in a child's contest," she snapped her head away from Moxxie's direction, indignant. "I want to be here as much as you do, I assure you, Giganta," Moxxie said bitterly, turning to the other wall that wasn't occupied, but at that moment, the doors swung open, and lights started flashing.
Moxxie was about to start throwing punches before realizing they were the rather violent flashes of an antiquated camera. "Hello, hello, hello," said the blonde, perky-looking woman who entered behind the camera. "My name is Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet, though no doubt you've heard of me," she fluffed her artificial curls. She looked about her, a coy smile on her face, and when her eyes landed on Moxxie, she all but squealed. "Well, so much… rugged potential," she said cheekily, looking straight at Moxxie, nearly completely disregarding the other people in the room.
He wanted to run for the hills - in fact, and he felt that just with Rita Skeeter's gaze, he was somehow unfaithful to Millie: that was how invasive it was. "Where to begin?" She exclaimed, clapping her hands. The light of the camera went off once more, this time in the stocky boy's face. He looked like he was about to punch her, and Moxxie couldn't blame him. "How about we start with the oldest?" Rita said, her heels clicking straight to Moxxie, grabbing his arm.
He felt violated. "Lovely." Rita Skeeter confidently led Moxxie out of the room and to the hallways, where she opened a set of doors to land in a tiny classroom. She sat at a desk and plopped Moxxie down on the seat that belonged to it, uncomfortably close. Moxxie could smell her cloyingly sweet perfume, could see the flakiness of her makeup. "So, Mr. Potter… quite a scandal you've worked up in the wizarding world, what with your little… reentrance," she said, puckering her lips. "Riiight," Moxxie replied.
She looked at him expectantly. "Sorry, was there a question to that?" Skeeter let out a burst of laughter about as real as her lashes. "Such humor. Now, tell me, Mr. Potter, where did you come from when you had your little reentrance into the wizarding world?" Moxxie crossed his arms. "Hell," he said simply. "How poetic," she said, blinking rapidly. "May I quote you on that?" "Sure?" He said, and suddenly a quill and notepad sprung up from the woman's tiny green bag and started scribbling all by itself. Moxxie eyed it warily. "Now," she said, looking at him over her glasses. "What do you mean by 'Hell'? You come from the Colonies, don't you, then?" "What? No. I'm literally a Hell-dweller. Like, tortured soul, eternal burning, all that," he explained.
Skeeter was just nodding, but she didn't exactly seem shocked. Moxxie snuck a look at the pad. "Unhinged?" He asked. "Just ignore the quill," Skeeter quipped. But Moxxie rolled his eyes. Just as Skeeter was opening her mouth to ask some other absurd question, he shifted into his Imp form. Skeeter let out a shocked little scream and fell backward off the desk. Moxxie watched her with some satisfaction. "For Merlin's sake!" Skeeter huffed, looking like she had been hit by a train, picking herself up clumsily. "What is that?! She exclaimed. "Just me, Ms. Skeeter. As I said, a Hell-dweller. Imp to be precise," Moxxie replied, satisfied by her reaction.
Skeeter avoided looking at him, but the camera that had followed them into the room took a blinding picture of Moxxie in his Imp form. "Very well, Mr. Potter, I understand, just… change back," she mumbled. "Actually, I'd feel more comfortable staying in this form," Moxxie said, throwing his hands behind his head and leaning back cockily. The camera took another snap. Skeeter now sat on another desk, but she couldn't quite bring herself to look at Moxxie head-on. "So," she said, tossing back her hair and making a desperate attempt to seem professional and composed. It wasn't turning out very well, though. "You are from Hell. How… exotic," she said, pursing her lips. "Tell me, what is it like there?" She was building herself up to look at him. "Kind of like staying at a Hilton." "Fascinating stuff," she breathed, the quill working away furiously. She nodded many times as if her head wasn't screwed on the right. "Mhm, mhm, now, the question that all my readers are simply dying to know - are you single, Mr. Potter?" She asked, finally looking up at him and putting on her best flirty face. She was horribly dissuaded by Moxxie's current appearance. "You're kidding," Moxxie dead-panned. He had just told her that he was from Hell, and she wanted to know whether he was an eligible bachelor? "Certainly not," Skeeter said, pulling out a small bottle of perfume from her bag and spraying it on her neck. The stench seemed to fill out the whole room.
Moxxie wondered if that was how he would die. "Yes," Moxxie replied reluctantly, "I'm married." "Married?!" Skeeter exclaimed scandalously. "Why, how old are you?" "Twenty-seven." "Twenty-seven and participating in a children's contest?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "It's not like I have many choices in the matter. They're forcing me to-" "So you, a man of forty-" "Twenty-seven." "-Are you participating in the tournament? Don't you believe you might have a bit of an unfair advantage?" Moxxie frowned. "No, I mean, I don't know any magic." "Don't know any magic!" Skeeter said, sticking her lips out strangely. Moxxie wanted nothing more than to yank them out of her face. "As I said, a Hell-dweller," Moxxie repeated. "I'm a foreigner," he mended, hoping that that might be in a language she understood. Skeeter nodded violently, and a small timer went off in her little green purse. "Ah, well, that's all the time we have for today, I believe - truly enlightening, Mr. Potter," she said, escorting him out almost by force.
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Moxxie was now in his quarters after the Skeeter woman had practically shoved him away. He had found his way back with relative ease, thankfully, only getting lost once or twice. When he arrived, he found Millie waiting for him on the couch, biting her nails. "Moxx!" She squealed, leaping up. "How did the interview thing go?" "Weird," Moxxie admitted. "I mean, I told the lady that I was from Hell, and she asked me if I was single," he said, frowning. Millie laughed a bit. "Well, that wizard bitch better not be trying to steal my Moxxie-Moxx," Millie said, showering his face with kisses. Moxxie received them gladly. "So, you wanna try out that new wand?" Millie asked. Moxxie looked around. "In closed quarters? Wait - aren't Blitzo and Loona back?" He asked, realizing how empty the room was. "Apparently not.
I hope they didn't get caught. Anyway, the wand thing…." Millie pressed on, batting her eyelashes. Moxxie realized she was actually excited about him being able to use magic. But coming to him all of a sudden, comforted by Millie's presence, he felt all the exhaustion of the day's turbulent events weighing down on him, and he realized how desperately he craved some rest. "Maybe later? I think I need a nap," he said, rubbing at his temples and sprawling himself right there on the couch. "I imagine you're tired, sugar. These fuckers are riding your ass harder than Blitzo ever has - or me, for that matter," she said, considering. She knelt beside him and stroked his forehead gently. "Lunch is already out. I'll separate some things for you in case you're hungry when you wake up," she told him.
Moxxie gave her a grateful smile and thanked her, and the last thought that he had before he fell into a deep sleep was how lucky he was to have her with him and how wonderful his wife was. He felt he had barely slept five minutes before there came a violent rapping at the door. He woke up with a jolt to find Loona, Blitzo, and Millie lounging about, suddenly called to attention by the knocking.
He must've been too deeply asleep to realize that they had arrived. All the Imps looked to one another expectantly as Moxxie sat up drowsily, rubbing at his head and eyes. "Who is it?" He called out in a dream-logged voice. "The Ministry interviewer, Mr. Potter," called a severe, feminine voice from outside. Moxxie stiffened. Right. The woman was supposed to come today, after Skeeter. He stood up and bounded over to the door, opening it carefully. The witch standing outside was silver-haired but still young-looking, and her eyes were grave and intimidating behind her black-framed glasses. "Good afternoon," she greeted coldly. "'Sup," Blitzo responded with a yawn.
He was tired of all the formalities with the wizards and actually literally tired, too, though judging by the orange light coming in through the windows, he had actually slept quite a bit. Scratching his belly, Blitzo walked over to the couch he had been sleeping on and sat down. The rest of the people in the room looked at the interviewer warily, and she set herself down on the only available spot, the single couch. All eyes were on her, and though she definitely seemed an intimidating figure, there were still many creepy-looking creatures staring her down. She looked down at her feet and then coughed. "My name is Mathilda Stevenson. Which one of you is Mr. Potter?" She asked, looking around at the lot of them. "Oh, that would be me," Moxxie said, raising his hand awkwardly and then lowering it again, feeling like a fool. "Very well, Mr. Potter," she took a look around her once more, "I would actually prefer if we did this interview alone. We can go someplace else or-" "What you want him alone for, Missy?" Millie asked aggressively, narrowing her eyes at Mathilda. "Just to interview him, Miss…." "Name's Millie," she replied, crossing her arms. "I've been asked to conduct a particular, intimate interview with Mr. Potter. It is of the utmost importance that he not be influenced by external factors." "How intimate? Like a prostate check, or like one of those Buzzfeed interviews where they're playing with puppies?" "I'm sorry?" Mathilda asked, now seeming completely out of her depth, "It's fine, Millie, I don't think she's gonna try anything that Skeeter woman hasn't already," Moxxie said, shuddering as he remembered his previous interview.
This woman didn't seem as cloying and invasive as Skeeter, but she still scared him a little bit, enough to want his friends and Millie around him. But he reckoned he would be fine. Probably. "Whatever," Millie huffed and irritatedly stood up and headed over to her room, Loona followed her immediately, but Blitzo lingered, trying to look distinguished. "Actually, I'm his boss and celebrity manager, so that I will re-" "Blitzo!" Moxxie huffed, rubbing at his temples. "Ugh," he said, going away, looking to be in an even worse mood than Millie. When they were alone, the woman opened her purse and produced a notepad and a quill from it. She licked the tip (Moxxie tried not to laugh) and looked at him. "So, you," she said, moving her quill up and down as she gestured towards his body, "are Harry Potter?" "I can show you my human form if you like," he said, tired of people doubting him one way or another. "Human form?" She asked, already writing things down scarily quickly. Moxxie sighed and morphed himself into human Harry. He wondered whether there was a limit to how often he could do that, at least in a single day, without any consequences. He hoped that there wasn't a limit or was in for it.
The woman didn't grasp or look scandalized. Still, she did look at him very fixedly, first like she couldn't quite believe that the person sitting where the red thing had been was the red thing, and then like she was scrutinizing his figure, thinking of how to put his features into words best, and then she started jotting down wildly. When she slowed down a little, she looked back up at him, and started speaking, never lowering her quill or stopping. "So, tell me about Hell, Mr. Potter," she said, and Moxxie proceeded to explain it to her as best he could, though it was had to describe Hell to someone who knew nothing about it, and he didn't really know what information she desired, so he said whatever came to his head first. Once he had spoken, her questions got more and more specific, her quill working lightning-fast in a hand that never seemed to tire. Moxxie answered all her questions to the best of his ability, and when she was satisfied with what she knew about Hell (which was after a very long while), she proceeded to ask him about himself: how he had arrived in Hell, whether he was still human, etc.
Still, she seemed a little bit irritated that she had to change the subject: he knew that she had probably been tasked with learning about Moxxie as well as Hell, and surely she and most people with brains would want to know more about the existence of Hell: where you went after you died, one of the biggest mysteries in the world - but then he also understood that there were people who would have a hard time believing in any of it, and that may be what they cared about was what they could understand: which was the return of the prodigal son, Harry Potter. "Mr. Potter," she asked at some point, "how old are you? By my calculations, you should be a boy of fourteen and, I hope you won't be offended, but you look quite old. And, by what you describe Hell and the fact that you have a wife, would I be correct in assuming you are an older man?" "No offense taken, I mean, if you thought I looked like a fourteen-year-old boy, then I would be offended. But I'm twenty-seven." "And how does that work? I mean, you've only been absent from this world for six years.
Does time flow differently in Hell?" Moxxie shook his head. He wasn't exactly sure how the time thing really did work in Hell, that information probably belonging only to higher-ups, but he was sure it wasn't like the woman was describing. "No… well, I'm not sure how we ended up in this time, exactly, but-" "Time?" "Yeah, 1994." "You mean to say not only are you from Hell but that it is also advanced in time?" "Well, I don't know if it's advanced.
We were probably dragged back-" "So, what year are you from?" She asked eagerly. "2019. Or at least that was that year when I left," he said. Mathilda frowned, then did some calculations for about two seconds. "So when you arrived in Hell, you also jumped forward in time - meaning that this instance was not an anomaly, but that time travel is possible through Hell?" She asked, her eyes sparkling. Moxxie swallowed. He thought it was possible, and not only that but actually do if you set your mind to it and stole the appropriate information. But never before, in the whole duration of the interview, did he feel like he had been handing out sensitive information.
Sure, the reveal of Hell was probably pretty big, but he wasn't breaking any rules that he knew of since he had never even heard of the wizarding world. Anyway, it had been obvious from the moment that they had landed in Hogwarts - they could lead to coercion and kidnapping, anyways, if someone wanted to punish them for revealing things. But this? Does time travel? The wicked glint in Mathilda's eye when she spoke about it was like the glint in Blitzo's eye when he saw a pile of money or in Moxxie's when he saw a juicy weapon.
A weapon. Blitzo swallowed. There was a reason why the passing of time and time travel were top-secret, things only royalty knew, and that was because the consequences of using it could be dire, and he couldn't trust wizard-kind to deal with that information sensibly. "I don't know," he finally replied, holding Mathilda in place with his stare. "No one in Hell knows - I think it would be dangerous or impossible to try it intentionally." Mathilda looked at him severely, and he thought that, in her eyes, he could see that she knew he was withholding information. "Hm," she simply let out, scribbling a little more and then finally setting the quill down, rolling her wrist around and cracking her neck.
Moxxie thought it looked eerie. "Very well, then, Mr. Potter," she said calmly. However, it sounded like a supervillain talking, "it's been a pleasure meeting you. The Ministry of Magic will not forget your cooperation," she said that last word with gunpowder in her eyes. Moxxie's heart gave a start. Mathilda stood up smoothly and offered Moxxie her hand.
Moxxie shook it reluctantly and then let out a deep breath as her figure disappeared out the door. The moment the door shut behind her, the two-bedroom doors slammed open. "That bitch was way too nosy," Millie said with some concern as she emerged from the bedroom. "You heard everything?" Moxxie asked nervously. "Yes, and as your manager, I think we should kill her." "Blitzo." "What? She knows too much!" "You think I over-spoke?" Moxxie asked nervously. "No-" Millie began. "Yes," Loona interrupted. "But not more than any of us would've done. I mean, we did agree to the interview, all of us," Millie looked around, eager to defend Moxxie.
"I don't know what in the hell I would've said in your place, but…" now she looked a bit less certain, "now that it's done, I'm scared of what might happen." "That's why we should kill her," Blitzo said matter-of-factly. "And have the Ministry kill us back?" "Well, at this point, if the Ministry doesn't kill us, then Lucifer himself certainly might swoop up and gut us." "Well, it's too late, now. All we can do is hope for the best, try to stay alive. Just… no more interviews," Millie sighed, sitting down on one of the couches.
By now, the sun had already set, and darkness was swallowing up the world outside. Out of the blue, all the candles in the room flickered into flame, and the fireplace started up by itself with a roar. Millie jumped. "Lucifer, I fucking hate magic," she suddenly said. Moxxie had been under the impression that she didn't hate it all that much, but now he could see the weariness on her face.
He felt terrible because of it, like everything was his fault, and in some strange way, it kind of was, but he couldn't help having been born as Harry Potter, and he had had no way of knowing that any of this could ever even happened. "Speaking of magic," Blitzo said, "did you two get a wand while you were out?" "Two of them," Moxxie replied, "we bought one and stole the other." "Excellent," Blitzo licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, "can I use it?" "NO," Millie and Moxxie said at once. "Besides, I think you'd need to be a wizard for it to work," Moxxie told him.
"Well, I think being an Imp is kind of magical, wouldn't you agree?" "Honestly? No." "I want to give it a wave." "Blitzo, you could burn the whole castle down," Millie said, irritated. "And they'd deserve it," Blitzo argued. "If Blitzo gets a wand, I get a wand," Loona said. "It doesn't work like that - and Blitzo's not getting one, anyway," Millie said, sighing. "On another note, did you find anything out today? You said you'd tell once Moxxie was up." "Ah, yes, well, nothing much… just what the first task is.
Also, it's tomorrow." "Tomorrow?!" Moxxie cried out, jumping up. "How in the hell did no one tell me?" "Guess they were going to tell you, you know, once you were battling the giant bird." "Giant bird?" "Oh, yea, the task has something to do with a giant bird. This little geek with a big ass just showed us around to this really random place in the woods (I thought he would try to kill us, or something, actually), and there was just this giant fucking bird in a cage. I assume you're going to battle it," Moxxie said casually, picking dirt from under his nails. "How?" Moxxie said, sinking into despair. Blitzo snorted. "You're the weapons expert. Why don't you answer that?" "They don't let you use anything but a wand," and at that, Blitzo's face fell. "Oh." "Yeah, 'oh,'" Moxxie said, putting his face into his hands. "But you can you 'Accio,'" a stranger's voice came from the fire. "Fucking fuck!" Blitzo screamed, turning around to see Sirius' face emerging from the fire.