Chapter 688 - Ruse Aftermath Ⅱ (1/2)
Despite the late hour, a haggard middle-aged wizard with spectacles hanging off the bridge of his pale nose studied with a sneer the journalist report in hand. ”Pathetic Drivel,” said the editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe. He was in fact the youngest editor in chief for the last hundred years as he'd been made chief just five years ago being thirty-five years old.
Tossing the terrible report into the rubbish bin, Cuffe irritably grabbed the next report from the large pile on his desk. Where was the passion?! Where was the scandal! Where is the drama?! His readers didn't want to hear about the improvement to wizarding society due to the Ministry of Magic, they wanted juicy gossip!
Grabbing the next report on his desk, Cuffe's light-colored eyes flashed as he began to read the report and stops abruptly at the end of the first paragraph. ”Mr. Weed how many times must I tell explicitly remind him to check his grammar before submission!”
”Infuriating,” Cuffe huffed as he tossed out the report in exasperation. Rubbing his head until his wry hair was all tousled, he dragged his hands down his face. ”I best call it a night,” he murmured tiredly to himself, before stretching out his back. His back pops loudly in relief, before he reaches over and grabs his cloak, and slips it onto his shoulders.
Cuffe wrenched his door open to nearly crash into his secretary, Miss Twinkle, a witch, who despite the late hour still wore a glossy, recently applied pink lipstick. She stands there breathlessly with wide eyes clutching something to her chest. ”What do you have there, Miss Twinkle?” Cuffe sharply asked.
Miss Twinkle flushes with embarrassment as she remembers herself and holds the missive in hand. ”A late-night emergency summons to the Ministry of Magic, sir!” Miss Twinkle breathlessly said as she stared up with adoration at the object of her affections.
”Bless you, Miss Twinkle,” Cuffe said in excitement as he pressed to his lips to that of the utterly dazed witch. Miss Twinkle let out a squeak and was left shocked silly as Cuffe just as abruptly released her.
Running off with missive in hand, Cuffe calls over his shoulder. ”Wake the Presses, we have an early paper going out before dawn! And get me, Skeeter!”
”Yes, sir,” Miss Twinkle replied rather dazed as she touched her lips dreamily unable to believe that object of her deepest desires and affections had just kissed her.
Cuffe rushes to the nearest floo portal and floo's away into the ministry. Very few newspapers were already present in the main lobby as they sleepily, and some still in their nightclothes whisper about the urgency of the announcement. What could have possibly occurred for the Ministry of Magic to rouse them from their beds in the middle of the night?!
”Sir,” a voice said from the side causing Cuffe to glance over and find Rita Skeeter in place. The usually immaculate witch had curlers in her blonde hair but wore a green bed robe tied neatly around her with green fuzzy night slippers. Her bejeweled spectacles gleam as usual.
Skeeter was missing her usual red lipstick though her stubby, red-clawed nails glistened as she clutched her crocodile handbag in her hands. Standing beside her is a sleepy-looking photographer with his camera ready but looking as though he is about to fall over. The poor man keeps dozing off and abruptly shaking himself awake as he begins to tilt to the side.
Skeeter pays no mind to the photographer as she furrows her thin eyebrows, which are not penciled on as usual. She had been roused out of bed and did not have much time for anything even to dress, beyond grabbing her crocodile handbag. ”Sir, any inkling as to what might be going on?” Skeeter crisply asked with a pointed gaze at the Editor of the Daily Prophet, and her boss.
”No, but it must be bad,” Cuffe smugly said. ”The Ministry doesn't have emergency night summons if something hasn't gone to the sh*t show so to speak.”
”Perfect,” Skeeter purred with vile glee. ”I've felt my talons wilting as of late. There has been far too much peace and prosperity that there has been nothing tantalizing to write about.”
”My thoughts exactly,” Cuffe concurred.
The two of them shared a likeminded smile before Skeeter opens her bag removes her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill. ”The ever so lovely Skeeter, a purveyor of justice and truth abruptly found herself summoned by the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night? What could be so secretive that I alone will be witness to? This humble reporter knows not, but she vows to not depart until she has uncovered the whole truth!”