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Interview with a Shark Pt. II  PV w/ Anatole   Cl 

The hallowed halls of Hogwarts. It had been quite some time since Magda had graced them, and it seemed somehow consequential that almost nothing had changed. The same dusty old picture frames, full of the same dusty old codgers. The same faded tapestries, and musty rugs, and tired, rusty armor, and raggedy hat with its ludicrous songs.

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...?"

Interview with a Shark Pt. II  PV w/ Anatole   Cl 

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It was not that bad. It was not that bad.

Just days ago, he had re-tossed his trunk into that dreaded dorm and set off for another year of wizard learning. Chatter scattered through the corridors, bouncing off of the walls as students made their minute commute between classes. Now and then, it reminded him of cars on the public roads back in Tenbury, but if a good fourteen percent of the people on the road were horrid drivers. With a glorious new badge affixed to his robe, the boy took a breath and navigated the crowds, attempting to lay eyes on every small figure that crossed his path through these stone-clad corridors.

Clutching a book to his chest, his stomach twisted and turned as longer shadows curled around the corner to reveal their owners as miniscule students. The whole phenomenon had made him laugh last year, but it became mundane and routine. There was no more laughter. These walks were all business.

On the contrary, today was the exception. Having scarfed down his lunch just about an hour ago, his new walk was to venture to a new class. Similar to last year, being late to class was never tolerable. This year, it added even more punishment, some fault being his own. He was Head Boy. Head Boys aren’t late.

His feet tapped along the floor as his focus became less about noticing all the sprightly, frightened faces and more about his destination. It was no longer about the journey. All he had to do was get to class.

”Hullo!” Out of the blue, a voice called. Clearly, it was mature...and...different, truly. His feet stuttered to a stop as he turned to face the tall, lanky woman. ”Magda Fleischer, Daily Prophet!”

The Daily Prophet! Boy, had he heard so much about it all! Staring up into her eyes, he muttered a disjointed ”Hello,” and cleared his throat. He was actually meeting a reporter of the Daily Prophet? And...she wanted to take a moment of his time?

Oh, that’s right. She wanted to take a moment of his time. Did he have any time left?

”Yes! Yes, you could spare just a...teensie moment of my time!” He replied with an eager grin, already fascinated with this enigmatic woman. ”I would be delighted!” The thin-haired boy did not think again. After all, she was the Daily Prophet! It was much more interesting than how to craft a potion, or another supposedly entertaining history lecture, and he could even get published! Across the whole wizarding world! She was the Daily Prophet!

And for such a cause, Anatole would sacrifice his time any day.

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"Dancing with fine women and ruling equally fine castles."
The Lord of Advanced Summoning, Anatole Evans
STA:14 AGI:7 STR:4 CTRL:5