The Daily Prophet

by Adam Bentley

One year after Hudson Yates’s tragic death, and Roland and Denise Anders are only beginning to recover.

Their losses were not of a personal nature; they didn’t know Hudson or his family. Rather, they suffered financially.

The Anders’ Bed and Breakfast, Around The Bend, saw a rapid decline in business, and was at one point approaching the edge of financial ruin. They attribute this decline to their proximity to Hogsmeade, the sight of Hudson’s murder. Roland Anders says he’s not the only one suffering. “All of the business around the area got hurt by it, not just us.”

On my request, Roland allowed me to compare his records from the winter holiday after Hudson’s death to the holiday before. There was a steep drop off in guests following the boy’s demise.

Similar stories can be heard all around the U.K., but especially in Scotland. Mr. Anders has his own theory.

“People get murdered everywhere,” Anders pointed out . “It wasn’t the fact that that boy was murdered that hurt business, it was how [the news media] presented it.”

Indeed, the downturn in tourism as charted by economists was far greater than initially predicted. Geoff Grissom, a freelance business analyst, insists that media sensationalism is only half the problem. “There’s a precedent here that people are very concerned about.”

The precedent, as Grissom explains, concerns the murder of Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts student who many consider to be the first victim of The Second Wizarding War. “Last time something like this happened, The Dark Lord resurfaced. What’s going through a person’s mind when they want to book a vacation? I’ll tell you what’s not: putting themselves in the middle of a country that could be on the verge of war.”

To do her part in helping to counteract this fear, Denise Anders has bumped up the inn’s security since last year. “Our floo channels are now open by appointment only, and we’ve had an anti-apparition field placed around the grounds. We also offer Foe-glasses and Dark Detectors by request, free of charge. We want our guests to know that their safety and comfort is our first priority.”

The tightened security certainly didn’t hurt business over the summer, where Around The Bend pulled in its highest revenue since the crime in neighboring Hogsmeade took place. “Not much has happened since then, so people are starting to come around. We just hope something so horrible doesn’t happen again.”

As I left the couple to attend to their inn, I assured them that they weren’t alone in that hope.

As the editor of the Daily Prophet, it is on rare occasion that I am granted the time or energy to write an article. Simply thinking of the amount of time I could spend editing and rewriting the message I am about to convey worries me to a point where the message itself becomes cloudy, and I begin to lose focus. This fear of writing is often what keeps my associates busy, and I would gladly hand this project off to any one of them if it were not so strongly rooted in my heart. So here I sit; frightened of the quill and parchment before me. I’d like to think of this as a public journal entry, so please excuse my informality.

I awoke this morning not to the familiar sound of my alarm clock, but to the dead silence that is often and rightly associated with 3 am, and a name ringing in my ears. Hudson Yates, a boy younger than all of my grandchildren, was killed at the hands of an unknown person on an ordinary trip to Hogsmeade with his classmates. Tomorrow marks the first anniversary of his death. My heart goes out to his family, but the issue I must speak about today is not entirely Hudson-centric.

For twenty years we slept soundly in our beds. Our children played in our gardens well into the night, and save for the occasional cut and scrape, not one of us worried over their safety. For twenty years we felt safe. We felt alive. We frowned at the deaths reported in the papers, but forgot quickly the name of the man who died quietly in his bed, or the woman who mixed the wrong ingredient into her potion. For twenty years we were free from the cold grip of fear.

How many of you have forgotten Hudson Yates’ name?

There is a reason his name can be recalled so effortlessly, and I wonder if I am not the only one who cannot think of Hudson without remembering the name of another young boy whose life was extinguished for no plausible reason. I am sure that I am not the only one who recognised the feelings that arose after learning of Hudson’s death. I can see it when I look down the streets of Diagon Alley, or even the hallways of the Daily Prophet headquarters. It is waning now, with no additional incidents to fuel it, but it shows. It is in the words of my associates, and the actions of each person I meet. It is in the newspapers, and on the wireless. Perhaps for me, it is most noticeable in the eyes of the man I see each day in the mirror. We are fearful.

For twenty years I have tried to quiet a guilty conscience. Tried to tell myself that I did my best to help during the war. However, the longer I try to silence the voice telling me otherwise, the easier it is for me to accept the truth. That the greatest cause of losses during the last war was the complete inaction spurred by the actions of the Minister of Magic and The Daily Prophet. The denial that we projected served only to aid Voldemort in his attempts to seize control of our country. Our world. Us.

The fear we feel now, only a shadow of what we felt back then, should serve as a warning. Perhaps we are making more of this death than it truly is. But what if we’re not? What if we have every reason to be frightened to leave our homes, or let our children play outside? Is it worth the cost to ignore the feeling in our gut? To chalk it up to paranoia, and leave it at that? Is there a single person reading this that can say, without an ounce of doubt, that there is no reason for us to prepare ourselves for the worst?

I pray that we are overreacting. I pray that Hudson’s death is absent of the unfortunate circumstances that surrounded Cedric Diggory’s. I pray that whatever happened that day was the result of an accident or a terrible mistake. I pray that I have no reason to pray these things, but I will not be caught off guard if my prayers go unheard.

On Sunday December the 27th, 2020, the Convention Hall at Millennium Conference Centre in London, England was filled with witches, wizards and goblins alike. There was an event taking place in less than fifteen minutes, and already wands could be spotted out in the open, cooling the wielders with a gentle breeze.

An author, Trista Truelove happened to be there to share with the crowd – of mostly females – her thoughts and opinions. She would also be promoting her new slew of romance books for the fans. I felt oddly singled out, sitting in a row of girls. I was perhaps one of ten to fifteen boys in the hall. And I can safely say that the only reason I was there was because it was all my girlfriend’s fault (no offense, Miss Truelove).

Halfway through her little speech, I was already falling asleep while my girlfriend listened with rapt attention. Her hands clutched her copy of Myrtle Mopps and the Mysterious Muggle, eager to have an autograph on the inside cover, proof that, yes, Eleora Chance met and spoke to a trash novelist.

“There once was a man, whom we all know of. He was a fascinating man and seemingly had an answer for everything. I was fortunate enough to be a pupil at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when he was Headmaster. He taught me a great deal about right and wrong. Tolerance and peace. He fought for those things. What else would a Gryffindor fight for?” she had said during her very long winded speech. However, this is the part my knowledge thirsty ears perked up for.

“His death is still shrouded in mystery for us common folk. Those who were there knew only the aftermath of what happened to the Wizarding World’s most loved, and respected wizard of all time.” She later goes on to share with the crowd her plans for the future – a biography of Albus Dumbledore.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the idea. Not out of disrespect for the man or the wizard, but for yet another author who thought their version of Professor Dumbledore’s life was more eye-opening than any of the other hundred’s of biographies on him. I personally think she is fooling herself in thinking she has something better to offer, though I believe her popularity in the Romance novel industry will give her enough credibility to be successful.

I, on the other hand, have access to something she did not.

I found myself in Arthur Weasley’s (the current Headmaster’s) office after the New Year had begun. While waiting on the Headmaster to arrive for our scheduled appointment, I had the opportunity to sit down and talk with the Greatest Wizard the world has ever known – rather, his portrait.

“I don’t think Headmaster Weasley would look too kindly on a student occupying his chair, my boy,” the portrait with a golden plaque stamped with “PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE” informed me. I looked up at the portrait, giddishly happy that I had this chance to take advantage of.

Usually, students paid no mind to the portraits in Hogwarts; their loss, I say, because the portraits hold the key to Hogwarts’ own history and the added bonus of secret passages. I’m not afraid to admit I was a little intimidated by a portrait – just this one.

“I think he’ll be happy I don’t have my feet on his desk,” I replied with a smile. “I’ve read about you before.”

“Have you now?”

“Yes. In fact, there are many biographies written about you.”

“Yes, I suppose there are.”

“I found some inconsistencies after reading a fair few.”

“Ah,” he nodded his head knowingly at me. “Those who are not me do not know what it is like to be me. Tell me what you’ve found.. Forgive me, I do not know your name.”

“Lyceus Falls,” I reply. “It’s true that you have all the memories of – how to put this – the actual Professor Dumbledore right up until he died?” He nodded at me. I caught a slight twinkle in his eye. It was as if he had a sense of understanding about everyone, and everything, and I knew this was something he got from his life well lived. “Several books claim you were pushed from the Astronomy tower that night.”

“Pushed?” he chuckled. “My, it’s wonderful how over the years stories get twisted into something unrecognizable with each telling.” It made sense, but I was still confused. With such a popular subject, I found it difficult to believe the truth that slapped so many people in the face was lost to them. “You will find, Mr. Falls, that there are those who might twist the truth to make sense of something they don’t understand. Or, perhaps it was to cover some tracks.”

“Are you saying that some of these writers might have had a hand in the plot against you?”

“That, I cannot say.” He stroked his white beard. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

“Rita Skeeter said some insulting things about you, Professor.”

“Yes, Headmaster Weasley told me about that. We cannot control what people say or do. If people believe the lies, there’s not much to be done to counter it.”

“The truth would,” I told him firmly.

“The same truth that is twisted and obscured with each retelling?” he asked. “At this point in time, there is not much that can be said either way to change anything.”

“But… I could do it,” I told him. “It wouldn’t be someone trying to piece your life together. You could tell me everything, and I could write your biography. It would be the irrefutable account of Albus Dumbedore’s life. Isn’t that worth inspiring our fellow wizardfolk? Isn’t it worth setting the record straight?”

I would let him think on that.

I thanked the portrait for his time, a smile on my face, and a newfound sense to find the truth in things. It was odd that this revelation came from a portrait of all things, but it was what it was. I paused at the door and turned to look at the portrait once more. “One more thing, Professor,” I grab his attention, “just how old were you?”

He smiled with that same twinkle in his eye. “Goodnight, Mr. Falls.”

So, after all of that, I went to the white marble sarcophagus, a rose in my hand that I secretly plucked from the Greenhouse and paid my respects to a man I had never actually met. However, his memory does indeed live on.

Today is the anniversary of his death.

This is a story of a great man, a marvelous mentor, the greatest wizard to ever walk this Earth, and it’s one well known in varying degrees and told with an alarming amount of contradictions through the years before and after his untimely death. It’s just a shame this lowly article will never be read.

Or, apparently, it will.

Underage gambling has taken Hogsmeade by storm as the Triwizard Tournament kicks into full speed. While those ‘champions’ chosen struggle in their tasks, intent upon glory for themselves and their schools, student spectators are reportedly splurging their savings upon guesswork of who the victor shall be.

Ludovic Bagman is the accused personality - the target of these rumours. Bagman makes no secret that he acts as a bookie for the tournament, but denies taking money from children.

“But if I did,” says he, “If I did, you could hardly blame me. How are you meant to tell these days? Some of them are walkin’ around with full grown beards - even the girls!”

The ups and downs of Ludovic Bagman

Ludovic ‘Ludo’ Bagman has a spotted history. Back when yours truly was an extremely young girl, he was put on trial for acting as an informant to deatheaters. Despite (or because) of any discretions, he rose swiftly to act as Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports - a fitting occupation for one who is obsessed not so much with the sports themselves, but with those who win and lose.

This is not the first time he has been accused of betting with youngsters. At the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, which he was assisting to organise, he was known to make many illegal bets. Having lost all proceeds after the match (famous for the reason that the winning team did not possess the winning seeker), Bagman was forgiven his indiscretions.

But it seems he does not learn.

“I’ve been at Hogwarts before,” he says. “I officiated back then. Good times. Great kids. Wouldn’t gamble with them - no, not knowingly.”

There is a charm about Bagman. Is he gambling with the students? If so, there’s no denying that he is scum that should be thrown to the the depths of the lake to lurk with the giant squid.

If not …

He winks at me. “How about a date?”

Where is the smart money?

Ludo says that cunning gamblers should place their money on Durmstrang. “Four strapping young lads - all in their prime, and good sturdy wands. They’re sure to go far.”

If chosen, you stand alone.

Those were the immortal words of Albus Dumbledore – whom we all now know as ‘that dead chap what used to run Hogwarts’, but was once both hailed and vilified as one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the earth.

Whatever your theories on the poor old deady, one thing is for sure. He is eminently quotable, and a tremendous source of wisdom for me.

So I say again – if chosen, you stand alone.

No surprise what the words are in regards to. With so much emphasis on unison and teamwork at the school, it feels somehow wrong that the Triwizard Tournament is all about solitary heroics rather than companionship and cooperation.

Certainly, it purports to be about friendship. After all, we drag our ruddy-faced northern friends and the twinkle-toed gallics to our bosom, don’t we? But think about it – what the tournament is actually about is the right to say one thing. “HAH! We’re better than you!” One school manages to humiliate the others – and not only is it one school that glorifies itself, but it is glorifying itself on the basis of one student, and one student alone.

I’m sure it’s true that one student really can be representative of the entire student body.

After all, we’re all just like Tom Riddle, aren’t we?

In any case, if you’re chosen – yes, you stand alone. You stand alone, you work your guts out. And if you lose? Woe betide you. We’ll have nowt to do with you. But if you win? By damn, let’s share some of your glory!

What more can I say?

Goooooo HOGWARTS!

By Lian Cleery
 

Ten years indeed! And as a Hogwarts Alumna, this news is truly heartwarming to hear! Pardon me, for I cannot contain my excitement at the news that the Ministry and the three most prestigious schools of Europe are once again constructing the Triwizard Tournament.

I remember the last time, all those years ago, when our foreign companions not only provided the school with their presence, but forged many lasting friendships with me and others.

In my experience, watching the tournament and seeing students from other schools did more than just teach me and my peers that there was more to life than just Hogwarts. It also gave us insight into fellow European cultures. They aren’t much different from us, but their views on certain subjects do vary. Bringing the tournament back only shows that we fellow wizards would love nothing more than to expand our current knowledge with influences other than our own.

To this, I tip my hat in the hopes that the best school wins.

June 15  By Cordelia Wenzel

The Ministry of Magic has reported a drastic increase in the number of pirated owls flying through the skies in the past month. Owl pirating is an age-old trick where the ‘pirate’ captures an owl, replacing its post with their own and then bewitches it to deliver the new message. Usually the pirated owl returns to its original owner, since the spell only lasts a day or two at most, but undelivered mail remains a cause for concern.

In a recent case, renowned author Regina Salicki had sent her completed manuscript for the next book in her popular goblin romance series, but became suspicious when it never arrived at Harrington Publishers. Salicki was quite distraught. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have a backup copy of it – wrote it all out by hand, I did. My readers will be dreadfully disappointed!”

“This is a classic case of owl piracy,” says Ministry employee Magnolia Coppers. “What we are investigating is whether the victims are being targeted individually or whether the owls are being randomly enlisted to carry messages as the pirate sees fit.”

If you suspect that your owl is being pirated, report it to the nearest public Owlery. Officials will place a tracking spell on your owl, in order to be led to the pirates.

Experts advise against casting the tracking spell yourself, as tracking spells for owls operate very differently from those used upon persons, dogs or objects. Walter Willby learned this the hard way. “I thought I’d catch my neighbour Drusilla in the act, as she’s had it in for me for ages! When I put the tracking spell on my little Meriadoc, a pretty little barn owl, she was so weighed down by it that she couldn’t even take off! I had to call my niece, who runs a clinic for magical beasts, to come set Merri right!”

Left without reliable means of communication, will the wizarding world crumble? Magnolia Coppers thinks not. “Cut the dramatics, we’re not biscuits. It’s inconvenient, but when these wizards or witches are caught, they’ll all be paying hefty fines as retribution.”

The fine for a single incident of owl-piracy is 100 galleons but can be more, depending on the severity of the case and the number of incidents. If one thing is for certain, it’s that these pirates will be broke, even if they’re not sorry.

May 29, 2017  By Rita Skeeter

“I know how to use a wand,” the boy opposite me says grimly, placing his fist on the table.

I’m sitting opposite James Sirius Potter, listening to him tell me his involvement in the terrifying and tragic events that transpired in Diagon Alley shortly before Christmas.

James is, of course, the eldest son of the ‘man-who-was-the-boy-who-lived’, but as that’s quite a mouthful, let’s just take James on his own terms. He is, unsurprisingly quite eager for this. “To those who know me … I’ve made it perfectly clear that I’ll make my own limelight. I don’t need my father’s name to be a talented wizard.”

It is then no surprise that when deatheaters descended upon the alley, snatching his younger brother, Albus Potter, James quickly swung into action, despite reckoning that “dad was getting to it”.

“There were fireworks in his pants, you see … no-heat wet starters.” James first noticed the fireworks when the family was leaving their house. “I saw he was walking funny. Asked if he has a stick up his —” I did ask at this point whether James usually thinks Albus has a stick up his —. He gave a cheeky, roguish grin. “I don’t know,” is all he says.

Regardless, James obviously cares about his baby brother a great deal. Taking a huge risk, he shot a perfectly aimed shower charm at Albus, setting off the fireworks and causing a massive uproar that bought the Ministry time to gather reinforcements and spring into action against the deatheaters, despite outrageous vigilante interference.

Unfortunately, the boys’ mother, vivacious Virginia Potter, was “quite furious”, despite her youngest son being saved from certain death. James admits freely that he was “pretty reckless”, but points out indignantly, “It was my brother … what choice did I have?”

Sadly for James, Mrs Potter was not the only woman in his life to get upset about these heroic activities. James had been dating soft-spoken brunette beauty Anna, who left off her quiet bookish ways to get “a bit crazy” on James after the events. “I can take care of myself,” James sighs. “I don’t need her to worry.”

Older readers, remembering my own interview with Harry Potter, so many years ago, will draw effective comparisons between James’ tumultuous relationship with Anna, and Harry’s own with Hermione Granger – his long-time girlfriend who eventually fell out with him over his constant endangerment, switching her affections instead to Harry’s safer friend Ronald Weasley, who in turn traded his younger sister, the now famous Virginia Potter, to Harry.

It may be this loss of his first love that leads Harry Potter to spend so much time away from his family. “Sometimes I wish he didn’t work so much,” James face softens, showing his young age for the first time in our interview. “I miss heading out to Grandma and Grandpa’s to play quidditch with him out back. But he’s busy.”

When I suggest this may be because of Harry Potter’s leadership of the auror division at the Ministry, James believes his Dad works “completely more than necessary … if he wasn’t so bent on solving everyone’s problems himself, he’d have more time at home.”

This insight may explain James’ conviction that he could handle being an auror. “It’s in my blood”. He is however, determined not to work so many hours as his father. “Not anywhere near”. It’s certain that James will make sure to leave plenty of time for Quidditch – which he plays obsessively with his Gryffindor team. Despite dabbling in seeking like his father, he is looking forward to switching to a chasing position. “It’s less stressful. And I tend to get bludgers swatted at me less.”

Quidditch has a side benefit of potentially drawing his ex-girlfriend back to him. Anna is “crazy about quidditch. Really loyal Puddlemere fan. Knows probably just as much about quidditch as anyone.”

Despite Anna’s dedication to James and the game, it seems possible that the Potter boy may already have wandering eyes, shifting, to be exact, onto a fellow Gryffindor named Megan. “Look, Megan knows I love her, okay?” The boy spreads his hands in a ‘what-can-I-do-about-it’ gesture. “I think about her day in and day out.”

After seeking doe-eyed Anna Lizzerd for some time, I ask her about James, only to see her face well up. “I don’t even KNOW the twit,” she sobs, before running off. Later, I find Megan Maguire, whose gorgeous vibrancy throws Anna’s mild sweetness deep into the shadows. “How do you feel about James and Anna breaking up recently?” I ask her, my eyes already narrowing upon this hussy. “Who the HELL is Anna!” She huffs, spinning and walking off angrily.

With this vixen on the warpath, it seems doubtful James will remain faithful to Anna for long.

Your stars with the Daily Prophet’s Delores Pudderswyth

ARIES
Steady! Your impetuous nature may have led you one step too far this time. Or twenty! Did you really have to go so far, just to succeed? It’s time to make amends, Aries.

TAURUS
Ahhh, isn’t the sunshine beautiful? The birds are singing, the grass is green, the squid is swimming merrily in the lake. Just don’t forget that sometimes there’s more to life than mere external appearances.

GEMINI
The moon is in alignment this month. You know what that means, right? It means you’re a genius! Go for it. It’s a perfect idea!

CANCER
I have some peachy keen news for you. You’re about to come into absolutely masses of cash! And if you don’t? You’re obviously not trying hard enough.

LEO
You know what they say about paranoia. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Watch your back.

VIRGO
Throw away the rulebook Virgo. It’s time for LOVE!

LIBRA
Diplomacy is one of your very best traits. Unfortunately, it won’t help you with what’s coming at you this month. Might I suggest a very firm hex instead?

SCORPIO
Methinks it’s time to go investigating. You never know what you might find.

SAGITTARIUS
Have you ever dreamed of being a rebel? All the signs point to this being the time for you to rise up. Just remember - nobody ever got anywhere by being afraid.

CAPRICORN
Unfortunately, a friend has just betrayed you. It doesn’t matter whether you find out or not - it happened. I think you should just go mope somewhere.

AQUARIUS
Do you know any Sagittarians? If not, find one. Quickly. The two of you need each other.

PISCES
Things aren’t looking very good for any intellectual pursuits this month. No matter how hard you try, it seems you’re just going to get things wrong. It might be time to try a different approach.

May 17, 2017 By Rita Skeeter

Flying broom fanatics went into mourning last night as the tragic death of Filberius Flyte was announced. One half of the famous inventing duo ‘Flyte and Barker’, Filberius was in the process of flight-testing his yet-to-be-released ‘Twigger Vista’ when an object, later identified to be a cauldron, fell upon his head from the air.

“It’s those bloody blackmarketeers,” says his wife, spunky Delores Flyte (herself a ‘dabbler’ in broom invention and creator of the new ‘Try-Trigger’, a training broom for toddlers which can be attached to their parent’s broom. “They’re always flying overhead – on carpets no less! They think they can bring their shoddy cauldrons in here – and the Ministry just lets them get away with it!”

Regardless of where the deadly cauldron came from, it is clear that Flyte’s partner, Geoffrey Barker, will have to continue work on the Vista by himself. Despite the trauma of his friend’s death, he vows that fans of the costly brooms will have reason to rejoice soon enough.

“As you know, we have eight brooms under the company’s belt already – ranging from the world-renowned Twigger 90, all the way to the Twigger XP. We’re confident that our customers will enjoy the luxury and ease of all Twiggers before – along with one or two brand new features, and a fabulous kitchy design!”

As a long time fan of the Twigger myself, I just hope they don’t leave off the self-straightening brush!

The Ministry of Magic could not be reached for a comment on the wayward cauldron.