The Quill was weary. Its acid-green ink, usually so fresh and glistening with the potential of as-yet-unwritten epics, looked decidedly pale and trampled. Rita had decided, on the whim of a moment, to "attend" (that is, crash) the Hogwarts end-of-year feast and interview those students that she deemed interesting enough to possibly become feature material. She'd kept her favorite quill hopping all day. In fact, the Quill couldn't remember when it had last seen so much action, especially involving students, unless it was that long-ago year now when they had last been at Hogwarts for some competition or other. What exactly that had been about, the Quill no longer remembered.
Just as it was almost finished with its final cleaning ritual, the Quill heard the faint sound of the periodic voice that always had such interesting scenes for it to improve on. For the first time, Rita's Quick-Quotes Quill almost sighed rather than perking up when it heard the scratchy tones. Nevertheless, it idly flipped open its special notebook, dipped its nib in the ever-ready ink bottle, and allowed the words to carry it away. From what it could make out, the voice seemed to be going on about another large gathering...
"I want to put the Bulgarians of got done with a live with their tents? "Said her my knee.As the voice faded out of range, the Quill stretched from nib to feathertip before dropping wearily into Rita's bag. Idly, it wondered what sort of gathering the voice had been referring to, where water had to be collected rather than easily at-hand. But that was clearly a story for another day.
"Let's go and have a look," said very, to a large patch of tense of feel, with the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.
The tenants here had not been be decked with plant life, but each and everyone of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but it all it did was Lincolns goal.
"Crumb,"said run quietly.
"What?" And Hermione.
"Crumb!" Said run. "Victor crumb, the Bulgarian seeker!"
But he looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many crumbs blinking and going at them.
""Really grumpy"?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's on believable. He's really young to. Only just 18 or something. He's a genius, you waited till tonight, you'll see."
There was already a small key for the top in the corner of the field. Carrie, ron, and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a ministry was it; he was holding out a pair of district trousers and almost crying with exasperation.
Koch just put them on, I'll check, does a good job. You can't walk around like that, the mark of the gates or against positions -"
I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard Stephanie. "Swear to them."
Local women with them, RG, not the men, they were bees," said the ministry was it, and he brandished up and start trousers.
"I'm not putting them on, and "settled arching indignation. I like a healthy breeze from my brothers thanks."
Remind it was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that you had to duck out of the Q and only returned one RGA collected his water and moved away.