Gossip Queen

I am exhausted.

You're not going to fail and you know it. 

I changed some spells. But I need someone to throw spells at me to see if they actually work. I mean I see where this could go wrong but it sounds exciting!

So you want someone to fire experimental spells at you? Well, hell, I can do that. 

Have you gone fucking insane?! Has all that bloody trash you write finally seeped into your fucking brain?!

I'm as sane as ever, and, it would appear, far more sane than you right now. 

Alright, someone tell me where the bloody hell Skeeter is.

Most Miss Skeeter, most. But surprise, surprise, sometimes my experiments do work.

And what exactly is the purpose of this one?

I need someone

That sounds dangerous...most of your experiments end with explosions.

They’ve upset me by merely existing, Skeeter. Flooding my soul with dark abstractions. I mean really. Can’t a gentleman read the newspaper over breakfast in peace? They surely seem set to outdo me…

A bit dramatic, don't you think? Come on, Malfoy, they're students enjoying their breakfast, not invaders set to destroy your peace. Relax a little.

Fresh sunlight filled the Great Hall where Lucius Malfoy sat content. Perfectly manicured hands clutched the morning newspaper and the pureblood boy sat aloofly gazing at each page with jaded spite. His face a stone, save from the sweet he struggled to chew, but no article could appease him today. Dropping the Prophet onto the lacquered Slytherin table Lucius turned his sights to the rest of the spacious hall. He paused, aghast at the rabble he saw.