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It's a bird! It's a plane! No...it's a...fire thingie! - Castigat Mores [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

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It's a bird! It's a plane! No...it's a...fire thingie! [Aug. 27th, 2004|10:45 pm]
Hogwarts RPG ~ 1858

castigat_mores

[rowan_avery]
[mood |amusedamused]

((OOC: the following article will supposedly be included in the day's edition of the Daily Prophet. Your characters are sure to be acquainted to it if they read it, so do RP away the reactions? *congenial smile*))


The
faint flutter of feathers died out almost as violently as it had come to be. A lively flame of silver, a subtle hoot -- and then Grazzia, the dueling owl made its dutiful appearance, floating delicately (and so fitting to her name) rather than flying altogether.
Of
course, any man worth his keep would have recognized the bird's beauty, seen to it with care, assured it would be treated with dignity. That is to say, any man but its officially Merlin-forsaken protector. Rowan Avery had an entirely and far more crucial task for it...

...the
finest bird in known existence was delivering the headmaster paper. To those close enough to see it, the main article would have offered quite a sight...

"Ministry officials crawling out of the Chamber of Balance!

Spare a sickle to buy dear Cato a hankie!


In
keeping to their word, the Council of Twelve reunited today in an official assembly meant to discuss the Grindelwald crisis. The Lord Minister Cato Blackthorne as well as a select company of three Polish representatives took part at the debates.
Minister
Blackthorne had already announced that the session would have to be brief in order to accomodate his Lordship's schedule -- and, oh, was dear Cato robbed his shot at a dramatic exit!

A private squadron, with members later identified as partaining to nobles houses (here unnamed out of courtesy to the imaginably startled families) took the entire quarter by siege and demanded that Ulrich Grindelwald be declared Dictator.

"They had a Muggle wand of sorts with them," says one of our sources, who prefers his nameless sanctuary, "and it worked on sparkles. I think they call it a fire-hand. Or fire-wrist. Well, fire-piece of body. It caused a lot of damage, though, and it took quite a few Aurors to immobilize them - but then the entire room went dark, and the damned fire thing was so incredibly hot..."
At
this point, our source could barely breathe and had to be delivered to comfort and receive some form of rest. He managed a few words after the Healers had seen to him. "That thing blew up. Someone claimed it was the overheating to blame, though I can't say how or why. It was horrible, the chairs all went splinters! They started gnashing at us with their teeth - the squibs, not the chairs- and tried to bite us, and we had to take cover beneath the table before the Aurors could come and secure the way. The Lord Minister had to crawl out and he took the Polishmen with him. They truly were in ever the hurry."

This
last part was later confirmed by an outsider, a Mrs Agnes Tootingham, 54 of age and in service of one of the (again, unnamed) greater pureblood houses. "I couldn't believe me eyes, I couldn't! The very Minister! And I hadn't a hankie with me, oh poor soul, and neither did he, and he was such a mess, and he had to get clean to go do his job - always loved him, such a hardworking man!- and so I had to raise money from some of my friends in order to get him a hankie, but it doesn't matter, such a good man..."

"This isn't the first of Grindelwald's organized and abusive declarations," reports the same Ministry agent. "As of late, we've had plenty of such assaults, more or less as timely. He's getting anxious, and so he's sending his minions out, but don't worry, all shall be well. Ulrich Grindelwald may do as he pleases. The Lord Minister may have bent the knee physically -- but we're keeping our strength, we are, just- just- just keep the fire-thingie away!"
...and then the same Ministry man passed out.

Gallateus Albridge, Daily Prophet Reporter and Chief Editor"
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Comments:
From: t_deveraux
2004-09-03 05:37 pm (UTC)
Sitting, at the staff table of all things, engrossed in the day's issue of the Daily Prophet, Tiberius gave a small chuckle to himself as he read the article about the events in the Chamber of Balance. In his mind, upon reading the words he could have even been heard mumbling a response of, "Fire arm you twit," to no one in particular, save the paper itself. Even in this enlightened age, far too many of his own ilk were damnably ignorant of the world at large.
As if reading a little of muggles would kill them.

Well, to perhaps Avery.

Honestly, despite the alarm such actions should cause him, Tiberius was far too amused with the account of Cato crawling under a table. Had he the sense, a simple Aquor on the fire arm would have rendered the gunpowder useless. Leave it to those with the wizarding world in their hands to be made a fool in this way. And really... Grindelwald... dictator?

Now the humor of it fell and he began to see the more troubling news underneath. It would be comical, how his faithful squibs had attempted this stunt, were it not also so brilliant at displaying exactly how easy it could be to take these brilliant wizard leaders down. What if their numbers were to increase? What if they were to better equip themselves? It was already clear that the ministry officials weren't prepared to handle such a crude attack, and that it took several Aurors to subdue them. Should Grindelwald's supporters increase in number, what then? No box of hankies could wipe that mess away.

Slowly releasing a heavy breath, Tiberius opened the paper to a new article as he heard and saw another member of staff take the seat beside him. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out a white linen handkerchief and held it out to them. "Best not to look like Cato, and unprepared." The remark twisted together his odd sense of humor and ridicule all in one.
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[User Picture]From: jediah_pierce
2004-09-11 06:30 pm (UTC)

safe-crackers, hold-ups, and train robbers, oh my!

Jed, of course, could not read. Not well enough to get any enjoyment out of the activity at any rate. Additionally, he believed that anything that he really needed to know would eventually be told him. Therefore, even when he arrived a bit late to breakfast that morning and ran across an abandoned copy of the Prophet on the Gryffindor table, he did not attempt to peruse the lead story.

Instead, he amused himself by looking at the picture of the funnily dressed men (well, more-or-less normal looking by Hogwarts standards, but he still thought robes were not decent clothing for public appearances). He spent most of his breakfast trying to guess why they looked so nervous. That the article surrounding the image might give those details never even occurred to him.

By the time his eggs were gone, he had decided that they were bankers and that their vault had been robbed, probably by a safe cracker, though it could have been an armed hold-up, too. That was the sort of thing that appeared in the handful of newspapers he'd ever seen before. It was either that or they were railroad barons with a robbed train, but he was leaning toward the bankers because he thought of that first.

Satisfied with his explanation for the obviously wealthy men's agitation, he swallowed the last of his juice, collected his bag, and made his way toward his first class of the day. Hopefully, he could screw up in some spectacular way. The unhappy bankers slipped from his mind to make room for plans to get himself in trouble.
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