The camera that went off made me go blind for two seconds. A puff of smoke came and out walked the one and only Rita Skeeter. She wrote most of the articles in the Daily Prophet and none of them were true. Rita Skeeter was all about gossip and not necessarily the truth. It was how she got her so-called readers.

"What a charismatic quartet," she said.

"But there's five of us," I pointed out to her. I didn't realize how dim-witted she was.

The five champions had to get a picture altogether as well as be interviewed individually by Rita. Fleur was sitting down in a chair, with Cedric on her right, me beside him, then Harry, then Viktor. We were all overwhelmed by her irritating presence, not wanting her to interview us for this tournament. We would've been happy with anyone else. However, Harry and I never had much luck to begin with, and we passed it onto the other three champions at this moment. While I felt bad, at least we all had to suffer through it together and not just me and my brother.

"Of course." She flashed a smile my way. "Aren't you cute?"

I furrowed my eyebrows as she came up to us and introduced herself as we all shook hands with her. "I'm Rita Skeeter. I write for the Daily Prophet. But of course, you know that, don't you? It's you we don't know!"

"Can we please keep it that way?" I muttered under my breath.

"But you're the juicy news!" She looked at Fleur and started stroking her cheek. "What quirks lurk beneath those rosy cheeks?" She slapped Fleur's cheek, then looked at Cedric. "What mysteries do the muscles mask? Does courage lie beneath those curls?" She messed with Cedric's hair, who looked annoyed by her. She looked at me now. "And what's the story behind those eyes of yours? Are they filled with fear, or courage? In short, what makes a champion tick? My rabid readers want to know!"

"You have readers?" I asked her.

"Sweetheart, if it wasn't for me, the Daily Prophet wouldn't be here right now." She smirked, then gave me a playful slap on the cheek. "So who's feeling up to sharing?"

Everyone was quiet.

Then, she looked at Harry and I. "Shall we start with the two young ones? Lovely!" She pulled us away and led us into a dark, small room. "This is cozy."

"It's a broom cupboard," Harry informed her.

"You should feel right at home, then," she told him.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked her.

But she ignored me and sat down. We sat down across from her and waited for her to ask us questions. "Don't mind if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill, do you?" she asked us.

"No," we said at the same time.

She sighed, then began. "So tell me, Harry and Maxine Potter. Here you two sit, a mere boy and girl of twelve--"

"We're fourteen," I interrupted.

"--about to compete against three students. Not only vastly more emotionally mature than you two are, but to master spells that you wouldn't attempt in your dizziest daydreams. Concerned?"

What the hell was she asking? "Um, we haven't really thought about it..." Harry trailed off, getting distracted by the quill that was scribbling notes down, starting a new page every time we glanced over at it.

"Just ignore the quill." She shot us a smirk before going on again. "Then, of course, you two are no ordinary twins of twelve, are you?"

"Fourteen," we repeated. Seriously, did we really look twelve?

"Your story's legend." She ignored us again.

"Yes, we're aware," Harry stated.

I tried to not burst into laughter. His blunt response was amusing, I had to admit.

"Do you think it was the trauma of your past that made you two so keen to enter such a dangerous tournament?" she asked.

"We didn't enter," I answered coldly. "Let's get that straight right now."

She faked a gasp. "Of course you didn't." She raised her eyebrows at us, then gave us a wink.

"We didn't," I repeated more harshly.

"Everyone loves a rebel. Especially two rebel twins." She laughed, then told the quill to scratch something off. "Speaking of your parents, if they were alive, how do you think they'd feel? Proud? Or concerned that your attitude shows, at best, a pathological need for attention at worst, a psychotic death wish?"

Harry looked over and his mouth dropped. "Hey, my eyes aren't glistening with the ghost of my past!"

I was offended that she would think that we were crazy. We didn't want to enter this stupid thing in the first place. It was bad enough I had Malfoy stalking me, and now, Rita Skeeter was making shit up about us. We weren't rebel twins or twelve for that matter.

I looked over at the quill and saw it writing something about me. "And since when do I have random panic attacks?" I asked her. "What is that quill writing?"

"Are you always this nosy?" she asked.

"Well, are you always this annoying?" I snapped. "You're writing about me and my brother, so yeah, I'm a bit curious to see what you're writing about us."

"I'm leaving." Harry stormed out, leaving the two of us alone.

"I wonder how Draco Malfoy can stand being with a stubborn girl like you. It's also a surprise that you and Harry are twins. You're not even pretty. Just simply...average."

Average? I was dating Malfoy? Where did she get that from? I was so tempted to punch her in the face right now. But I wasn't going to do that. I could control my temper. I could do this.

"Excuse me, I'm not dating Draco Malfoy. We hate each other. Also, Harry and I are fraternal twins, so of course we don't look alike. I don't know where you got any of that shit from, but they're not true. This interview is over. Goodbye." I stormed out of the cupboard and made sure there was enough distance between me and that bitch.

~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey everyone!

Sorry that this chapter is so short, and that there's not really and Drax in here. I just felt like the chapter would be too long if I added more stuff in it. Plus I'm not sure if Drax will be in the next chapter. Probably, but it won't be a lot. But I hope you like it anyway!

Comment, vote, bye!

-A