Rita Skeeter tapped her acid-green stiletto heels impatiently against the cobblestone walkway as she sat at a quaint umbrellaed table placed outside the Three Broomsticks, waiting for her
"I do hope he's not too terribly late," she mused, idly reaching inside her bag for her folding mirror to check her hair and makeup, "I always forget about time differences, though. Be a shame to waste this new outfit on thin air."
As if on cue, a faint "pop" could be heard from around the corner. With a thrill of excitement, Rita poked around in her bag and brought forth her new favorite quill - the peacock feather that was sure to impress a dragon handler like Charles Weasley. She idly ran over her mental list of "questions": his paupered childhood, the drudgery of so many brothers, being in the shadow of a Head Boy, being outcast to far reaches just to pursue a lifelong dream. "And what about the scandals around the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" she muttered aloud and then put a quick hand over her lips. It would not do to alert the hapless man too soon.
Inside her working bag, the ruffled Quick-Quotes Quill breathed a sigh of relief. It had been so certain that it would be chosen for this assignment, given the amount of editing that would be needed for the interview to conform to Rita's ultra-high standards. However, she'd chosen flashy over functional, and it was free to burrow into the lining with its contraband notebook and listen for...yes. There it was. The faint sound of the familiar voice... Wait. No. This voice was different, somehow. Deeper but yet less clear, as if it were mumbling through a mouthful of marbles. The Quill got to work deciphering this new, unfamiliar story.
Patient to see both work, the dragon in dragon members. Suddenly less realize they were conferring about her. The great Dragon send me suddenly directly in front of her, his nose bleeding out everything else. She's of the warm exhalation of his breath, slightly phosphorus late. She ornament from the dragon man that he approved more and more of this woman from Wrathey."WELL," said Rita Skeeter loudly, shoving her notebook and peacock feather roughly back into her bag and dislodging the Quick-Quotes Quill in the process. "I must say, I had heard better things about Mister Weasley than to have him send a stand-in. What was your name, girl? Oh, it doesn't matter, just tell him that an owl would have been quite sufficient."
With a yank the wrong thread on her neck, the dragon in Boulder along the passage. The dragon daddy beside them in such a speed the massively expected they would all get it pulled off the ledge., She was perched on the bronze not, the dragoman holding a family about the beast. In the same fluid movement they were gliding across the great bowl of the way to the eye wall opposite. There was full of wings in dragon tales come around with a course of sounds, echoing in Brea going across is Tony Valley.
My name of the seven unless it was certain would be a collision course with the other dragons come through for you drown blackness in the clear face, I am. Magically, the best filed it, the greater wingspread of my name is just clearing the sides of the entrance.
The passageway reverberated with the thunder of wings. They are compressed around ethically. Then they broke out into a gigantic cavern.
Why, the entire amount must be all come with a lesson, incredulous. Around the enormous cavern dragons Bridgeton Siri drinks, please, greens, Brown's, I don't me to great bronze beasts like the Namath come on ledges meant to accommodate hundreds. He Bron snack skills before, instinctively aware of the eminence of a great event.
My name in the world downward, disregarding the ledge of the bronze ones. Then Alyssa could see was one lay on the Sandy floor of the great Gavin: dragon eggs. He clutch of 10 monsters, model thanks, their shells moving spasmodically is the fledglings within Deb their way out. To one side come on arrest portion of the floor, with a golden egg, larger by African size of the month old ones. Just beyond the golden necklace emotionless a girl Garfield queen. *
"Oh, but Ms. Skeeter, he wanted me specifically to tell you that a more worthy subject of your time can be found in Ireland, if you're really interested in dragon conservation," said the young woman blithely. "One of the substitute professors, a certain Peggy Campbell, has retired to one of the wee circlets off the eastern coast to start a Welsh Green preserve. You might look her up; Charlie says she's a corker and knows her stuff."
And with that, the girl rose fluidly, stepped a few paces away, and disapparated, leaving Rita Skeeter fuming.
*from The Dragonriders of Pern by Anne McCaffrey