But not everything was the same. The faculty, it seemed, had been utterly commutated, their ranks now entirely comprised of what appeared to be toddler youth. The Headmaster, himself, appeared no older than some of the First Year brats she'd seen along her route. It was outrageous, but it was also exactly the type of fodder she needed.
Patience was a virtue, and while Magda couldn't exactly claim to be virtuous, she made every effort to exercise long suffering for the ultimate benefit of the Prophet. Her career wouldn't have been half as successful if she hadn't learned long ago to bide her time, then strike when the moment was right. It was her moment, finally. All she needed was an edge. Unfortunately, it came in her least favorite form, ever... Children.
Sticky, slimy, whiny, smelly, bratty children. Big-mouthed, naïve, self-centered spawn of the earth...
Children. They were her bane, but all the same, they would give her exactly the edge she needed, and with half the trouble adults would have given her instead. It was entirely the thing she needed, to wage war.
Pattering feet across stone sharpened Madga's focus, and tuning her attention, she rose from her perch in one of the window bays, eyes roving the small mousy boy, skittering along the hall.
"Hullo!" She called, in a deceptively cheery voice that made her instantly sorry for the heavy, cloying dressing she'd had on her salad at lunch, as it churned in her stomach, "Magda Fleischer, Daily Prophet! Tell me, my dear... could you spare just a teensie moment of your time...?"