Following the guidance of the Yanhua, Morris walked to the edge of the court.
A beetle was perched on the railing; it was ordinary and unremarkable.
Without a doubt, Animagus.
Morris stared at the beetle, lost in thought for a moment.
Is Animagus magic really that commonplace?
What happened to the promise that only seven people were registered in the entire Britain?
He shook his head and stepped forward.
Alright, let's see what this uninvited "guest" is thinking first.
He doesn't actually mind being openly watched, but this sneaky behavior suggests he probably has ulterior motives.
" Incarcerous!"
Morris gently waved his wand at it.
A tiny, ribbon-like rope flew from the tip of the staff and precisely wrapped around the beetle's body.
The beetle frantically tried to escape, but couldn't break free.
At that moment, Morris suddenly had an interesting thought: if the Animagus's form was an insect, would its true form also become as fragile as an insect?
For example, if he were holding that beetle in his hand right now, and he applied a little force, would it burst open or transform back into human form?
Rita, of course, was unaware of the dangerous thoughts swirling in Morris's mind, but one thing she understood was that her situation was extremely precarious.
She could only hope that the student in front of her was just playing with insects out of boredom, and that he hadn't seen through her true identity.
However, what Morris said next plunged her into an icy abyss.
" Rita Skeeter, I knew it was you."
Morris's voice was light and airy, as if he were talking about something insignificant.
"You don't want others to know you're an illegal Animagus, do you?" he continued. "Now, you'd better turn back into human form, and we'll talk."
Rita's brain was working at lightning speed.
The other party has already named names, so pretending to be ignorant is no longer effective.
Meanwhile, Fred and George, having finished their rest, came over, looking at the scene with puzzled expressions.
"Uh, Morris, who are you talking to?" Fred asked.
As soon as he finished speaking, the little beetle that Morris was tethering suddenly swelled up Transfiguration.
The next second, Rita Skeeter slumped awkwardly onto the grass.
Fred and George were startled.
"Who is this?" George snapped out of his daze. "Wait, how did she turn into a beetle? Animagus?"
Although the answer was obvious, Rita had no intention of explaining.
She got up from the ground, brushed the grass clippings off her clothes, and forced a smile at them. "I was just strolling around, don't mind me."
Morris looked at her as if she were a monkey.
"The principal probably doesn't know you're here," he said calmly. "Perhaps I should go and report to him."
Upon hearing this, Rita realized she was in trouble.
They're not easy to fool.
She immediately put on what she considered her most friendly smile, "Child, be forgiving, don't tell anyone else."
"Alright," Morris said readily. "I can keep it a secret. But... you're an Animagus? That's quite unexpected. It's a very advanced form of magic. You must be registered with the Ministry of Magic, right?"
Rita's smile froze.
"Of course," her voice became a little sharper, "Of course it's registered."
77
"That doesn't sound convincing at all." Morris chuckled, too lazy to beat around the bush any longer. "Do me a favor, big reporter. I need you to write a report for the Daily Prophet."
Rita's expression instantly became incredibly interesting.
Writing reports is her job.
But being forced to write a report is another matter.
My professional ethics do not allow me to do such a thing.
Rita suddenly straightened her back, trying her best to maintain her last bit of composure.
"Really?" Morris shook his head. "Then I can only tell Professor Dumbledore that a little bug has gotten into Hogwarts."
This is a blatant threat!
Rita's eyes were gloomy.
The atmosphere suddenly became tense.
When Fred and George saw this, they quickly ran to Morris's side, as if to bolster his morale.
"Madam," Fred began, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I suggest you seriously consider our boss's proposal."
Rita remained silent for a long time.
Finally, she sighed, "I guess I'm out of luck. I can write the report for you, but only within my capabilities. And you all have to sign an agreement with me to prevent you from backing out."
"Yes, that's fair." Morris nodded.
In the Wizarding World, the binding force of agreements is still guaranteed.
Rita deftly took a piece of parchment from her handbag, and the green quill pen automatically flew up, hovering above the paper, and began to write.
A moment later, the quill stopped, and the parchment floated into Morris's hand.
Morris glanced through it.
The content is very simple.
He couldn't tell anyone that Rita was Animagus, and Rita would write a news report about him.
Just these two.
The problem is that there are no time limits or quality standards for the reporting.
This is clearly unbelievable.
If he signs this agreement, Rita will hardly have to pay any price; she'll just have to write some random nonsense on a piece of paper to appease him.
Morris frowned and handed the parchment back to Rita.
"I've changed my mind," he said calmly. "You're not being sincere at all, ma'am."
"I hope you can leave before the professor arrives. Goodbye, Fred, George, let's go."
He waved to the twins and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Rita's voice rang out sharply, "No!"
She panicked.
"Then do as I say," Morris said ruthlessly, turning his head. "You have no room for negotiation now."
Based on the other person's behavior just now, his favorability rating has dropped to negative.
He despises people who try to be clever.
Rita gritted her teeth. "Fine. I'll do it your way. You're the boss."
Her voice was hoarse, as if she had resigned herself to her fate.
"Very good." Morris nodded.
Rita straightened her hair and asked reluctantly, "Okay, what do you want me to write? But let me warn you first, the Daily Prophet isn't just my decision-making power; your content must comply with the regulations."
Morris pointed to the two brooms in the twins' hands.
"It's simple, these two brooms. I remember the Daily Prophet had a detailed review of the Firebolt. Just write a report about these brooms using that format."
Rita followed his gaze, a mocking smile immediately appearing on her lips.
"Child," she drawled, "You probably don't understand how precious the pages of the Daily Prophet are. We only report things that are newsworthy. This broom—excuse my bluntness—looks like the kind of ordinary stuff you could buy at any magic supply store."
The twins burst into laughter at the same time.
"You'll soon find out how powerful it is," Fred said.