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Since Lynn was the last to arrive, the classroom was already empty by the time it was his turn for the interview.
The other champions had finished the process long ago and left in small groups. The Durmstrang trio had left, the ladies from Beauxbatons were gone, the people from Ilvermorny and Uagadou had also departed, and even Cedric and Harry were nowhere to be seen.
Only three people remained.
The bald photographer was packing up his equipment, glancing up at Lynn from time to time, seemingly gauging how to take a few usable photos of him later.
Ollivander sat behind a desk in the corner, with a delicate brass instrument in front of him, organizing the records from the wand-weighing.
And—
Rita Skeeter.
She sat in the most prominent position, her eyes glued to Lynn.
From the moment Lynn entered the room until now, from the time the champions started queuing until the last one finished—she had been staring at him the entire time.
Lynn stood up. He glanced at Rita Skeeter, just once.
Then he turned and walked toward Ollivander.
Rita Skeeter: "..."
She watched as Lynn's back grew farther and farther away from her, and farther away from the bald photographer, until he finally sat down steadily in front of Ollivander.
She gripped the quill in her hand tightly, her nails leaving white marks on the barrel.
Fine! She was going to write a scathing piece!
On the other side.
Ollivander looked up and saw Lynn walking toward him, a very unnatural expression flashing across his face.
He quickly adjusted his expression and returned to his professional demeanor.
He flipped through the records in front of him, his voice sounding out:
"Mr. Lynn. Laurel wood, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen and a half inches."
Lynn was a bit surprised.
"Mr. Ollivander has a truly remarkable memory," he said sincerely.
Ollivander smiled, a hint of pride in that smile.
"An Ollivander remembers every wand he has ever made."
Lynn nodded.
"I still remember trying many wands back then, and they all suited me. In the end, you let me pick one at random, so I chose this one."
Ollivander's smile froze, and he fell silent.
Then he took a deep breath and gave Lynn a complicated look that clearly said, "If you hadn't mentioned that, we could have chatted a bit longer."
Then he said dryly:
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Lynn."
He wasted no more words and reached out to take the wand Lynn handed him.
He held the laurel wood shaft between his fingers, gave it a gentle bend to test its flexibility, then, with a flick of his wrist, the wand traced an arc through the air—
A stream of white smoke billowed from the tip, drifting out of the open window and scattering into fine specks of light in the afternoon sun.
Ollivander scrutinized the dissipating smoke and nodded.
"In excellent condition. I can see you have been using it very carefully."
Lynn took the wand and put it back into his pocket.
He thought to himself: Of course. He hadn't even been willing to use this wand for killing or arson. After all, it was the first wand of his life; it held great significance...
The wand-weighing was over.
Lynn walked over to the bald photographer and stood in the designated spot as requested.
"Tilt your head a bit to the left... good, a bit more... too much, come back a little... yes, just like that..."
The bald photographer busied himself behind the camera, snapping seven or eight photos before finally waving his hand in satisfaction.
Lynn rubbed his eyes, which were blurred by the flash, and walked toward the center of the classroom.
There, Rita Skeeter sat upright, her notepad spread out before her, and her Quick-Quotes Quill was ready and waiting.
Lynn sat down opposite her.
Rita's face was covered with a professional smile.
"Mr. Lynn, you certainly kept me waiting."
Lynn looked at her expressionlessly.
"Is that so?"
Rita's smile froze for a moment, but she quickly recovered, giving a dry little laugh to cover the embarrassment.
"Just joking, just joking. Well then, shall we begin the interview?"
As she spoke, she reached into her bag, pulled out a Quick-Quotes Quill, and placed it gently on the notepad.
As soon as the quill touched the paper, it immediately sprang up, its tip suspended in midair.
"Now, the first question—"
"I never said I would accept an interview."
Lynn's voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.
The quill moved.
Its tip hit the paper, scribbling a line of text with astonishing speed:
"The young Azkaban Champion has completely fallen for Fleur Delacour's beauty and is unable to extricate himself. He has even forgotten how to communicate normally with people, appearing incoherent and distracted during an interview with this reporter..."
Lynn's gaze fell on the line of text being generated.
Rita Skeeter suddenly reached out and blocked the quill.
"Don't mind that quill, Mr. Lynn. Let's continue the interview. Can you tell me why you signed up for the Triwizard Tournament under the title of Azkaban Champion?"
Lynn looked at her.
His gaze was very calm, so calm that it made Rita feel uneasy.
"Can't you understand human speech?" Lynn said word by word. "I said—I—refuse—the—interview."
The quill moved again.
It nimbly bypassed Rita's blocking hand, its tip racing across the paper:
"This young champion is keen on boosting his fame, so he directly resorted to hurling abuse at the reporter in an attempt to create a buzz."
"He even went so far as to give up a date with Fleur Delacour just to show off his irritable side in front of the media. According to an insider, he once..."
Lynn's gaze swept over that line of text.
Then it swept over Rita Skeeter's face, which was practically screaming, "Come and hit me."
Then it swept over the classroom—
Good. It was empty.
The bald photographer had slipped away with his case at some point, and Ollivander had also packed up his instruments and vanished silently through the door.
In the vast classroom, only the two of them remained.
Lynn withdrew his gaze.
Then he reached out his hand.
Crackle—!
A blinding flash of lightning suddenly exploded in his palm!
Lightning danced between his fingers, emitting a sharp hum.
Rita Skeeter's smile completely froze.
Her mouth hung open as she stared blankly at the ball of lightning in Lynn's hand, which looked more than capable of roasting someone, her mind going completely blank.
Lynn waved his hand.
"Boom—!"
The lightning shot out, accurately striking the quill that was still writing frantically on the desk—
Along with the paper, it instantly turned into ash.
Rita Skeeter looked as if she had been petrified, staring motionlessly at the scorch mark.
She had been a reporter for so many years.
She had interviewed the Minister for Magic, confronted the head of the Auror Office, and written about Dumbledore's scandals.
No one—no one had ever dared to take direct action during an interview.
"You..."
Her voice caught in her throat, unable to come out, because Lynn had already stood up and was looking down at her.
"Write again, and you're done. You and your quill will turn to ash together."
He paused and added:
"And don't even think about reporting any rumors about me. I can find where you are. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
After saying that, Lynn walked out of the classroom without looking back.
Rita Skeeter stood frozen in place, suddenly realizing that she seemed to have provoked the wrong person.
She hurriedly packed her bag and ran out of Hogwarts without looking back.
As she ran, she thought to herself: If she couldn't write about Lynn, couldn't she write about someone else? That Savior would be a good choice; he was also very topical.