It is evening, and a middle-aged wizard with spectacles hanging off the bridge of his pale nose ate a bite of shepherd's pie with one hand while reading a missive from the Ministry of Magic with another. The editor-in-chief of the Daily Prophet, Barnabas Cuffe, (the youngest editor-in-chief for the last hundred years.) The fork stops an inch away from his mouth, before he drips it onto the platter.
Barnabas Cuffe brings the missive closer to read and his eyes begin to sparkle in excitement. Cuffe leaps up to his feet and pulls on his coat. He pauses and glances down at his clothes covered in crumbs. With a wave of his wand, he vanishes the crumbs and casts a spell to remove the wrinkles from his clothes.
Pausing to adjust the cuff of his shirt, Cuffe patted down his wry, tousled hair. He wrenched his door open to nearly crash into his girlfriend/secretary, Miss Twinkle, a witch, whose lips are always perfectly pink and glossy.
Miss Twinkle shyly smiles and says, "Barnabas, I've already sent word to Rita. She's on her way!"
"Brilliant, Miss Twinkle!" Cuffe said with a pleased expression causing Miss Twinkle to flush in delight at being able to help her boyfriend.
"Are we still on for dinner, Miss Twinkle?" Cuffe asked.
"Most certainly!" Miss Twinkle said pointing to the well packed picnic basket under her desk from which a bottle of elf-wine peeked out of. She knew they'd be running around trying to print the evening edition. They wouldn't have time to go out for dinner, but a meal in the office, there was always time for.
"Perfect," Cuffe grinned and pressed a kiss to his girlfriend's lips. The kiss lingered until a loud, pointed cough pulled them both back.
"Skeeter!" Cuffe cleared his throat in embarrassment, while Miss Twinkle, rather flustered reached for a hankie to clean her lipstick from Cuffe's lips.
"Ho, ho, what have we here?" Rita Skeeter said with some amusement, knowing that the couple before had been dating for several months now. She glances at her subby, ruby red nails (claws) to give the couple time to compose themselves.
Rita pulls out a compact mirror and studies her reflection. Her blond curls are neat and tight. Her green attire is crisp and nary a wrinkle. Her bejeweled spectacles glisten in the light. Her red lipstick is perfectly applied, and she was immaculate from head to toe.
Putting her mirror away, Rita finds Cuffe mostly composed with a lingering pink flush on his face gave him away. "Well, we best be going," Cuffe gruffly said.
"Of course, sir," Rita professionally answered, barely keeping a smug smirk off her lips.
"Goodbye, Barnaby," Miss Twinkle called out to their backs, before adding, "and good luck, Rita!"
"Not that I'll need it," Rita Skeeter cheekily cried out over her shoulder.
The two of them arrive at the Ministry of Magic and are met by a resigned-looking photographer holding a large camera in his hand. The photographer had been at dinner with his wife when he got the missive. His wife wasn't too pleased, and frankly, neither was he.
There are already a few colleagues from other newspapers present. The lobby of the Ministry of Magic quickly fills with the arrival of more colleagues, rivals, and acquaintances. As always, any announcements made by the Ministry of Magic typically sold out the printed issue. The Ministry of Magic is always good for business. Mostly.
Skeeter furrows her penciled eyebrows. "Cuffe, do you believe there was another attack?" Skeeter crisply asked with a pointed gaze at her superior, Editor of the Daily Prophet.
"No one would be insane enough to attack a meeting of the International Confederation of Wizardry," Cuffe said in a low voice. Because who would be stupid enough to make the entire world of wizardkind their sworn enemy?
"I meant a Death Eater attack elsewhere, Cuffe," Rita Skeeter rolled her eyes. "With an emergency session of the Confederation taking place at Hogwarts, it would be the perfect distraction."
"Unlikely," Cuffe gestured at the alert Aurors standing guard in the lobby. "They're awfully calm for there having been an attack."
"Good point," Skeeter murmured, before opening her bag and removing her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill. "The sophisticated and graceful Rita Skeeter, a source of truth and justice, finds herself once again summoned by the Ministry of Magic! Did something go terribly wrong with the International Confederation of Wizardry? And if so, what is the Supreme Mugwump, our very own Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore doing? Is this a sign of senility by Albus Dumbledore? This modest reporter vows not to depart from the Ministry until she has uncovered the whole truth!"
"Immaculate as always," Rita Skeeter murmured to herself, before tearing off the written parchment, crumbling it up into a wad of paper, and tossing the wad of paper into her crocodile handbag.
"So, how serious is it between you, Twinkle, and you, Cuffe?" Rita glanced at her red painted nails and caused Cuffe to loudly choke in embarrassment. "Because Twinkle is a dear, and we'd all be most unhappy should you decide to break her heart."
Clearing his throat, Cuffe glances around to only meet the pointed gaze of the photographer. Mortified Cuffe flushes before answering, "I have no intention of toying with the affections of Miss Twinkle."
"Mm, I suppose that is all we can ask for," Rita concluded after observing the demeanor of Cuffe. "Though," she emphasized, "I would recommend trying harder, considering who her grandfather is."
Cuffe paled at recalling the fact that Miss Twinkle was the granddaughter of Fenny, the Head of the Scotland underworld. If anyone could make Cuffe disappear, it would be Fenny for his granddaughter's sake. Such knowledge wasn't a well-known fact; Cuffe was privy to that knowledge due to the nature of his position, which could be fortunate or unfortunate depending on how one chose to look at it.
Glancing at the time, the photographer mumbles under his breath, "At least it wasn't as late as last time." Last time he'd been awoken from mid-sleep in order to come down to the Ministry to take pictures.
The voices of the crowd trail off as the Minister of Magic emerges at the helm of the entourage, which includes Mrs. Prim and others. Cuffe studies the entourage spotting a plain-looking dark-haired woman with a shawl and a bulking man with gorilla-like arms, and long bangs hanging low on his forehead nearly to his bushy brows.
Easily recognizable is an elderly goblin wearing a pointed little hat with a matching pointed little white beard and a very pointed nose. Nurnaff is the Goblin Liaison Officer at the Ministry of Magic. Though there seemed to be an odd cheerful skip to his every step.
Nothing screamed at Cuffe, but he could detect a certain glint in Minister Jenkins' eyes. His heart sank in chest. It would seem that the Minister of Magic had gotten it right once again. Why couldn't their Minister of Magic have the slightest hint of scandal like the other ministers of magic!? Really was it too much to ask?!
A demure and very proper Senior Undersecretary, Mrs. Prim, steps up to the pulpit first. The photographers release a barrage of blinding flashes as their cameras eagerly take photos. Blinking at the lights of the cameras, Mrs. Prim withholds a frown as her brow furrows in displeasure.
"Per the usual, the Minister of Magic will address the public first. The Ministry of Magic requests there be no interruptions until the Minister of Magic has finished delivering their message."
"So, it's good news again," Cuffe dully said.
"Not if I can help it," Rita Skeeter said with a determined glint in her eye.