Sekrit Adventures of Rita's Quick-Quotes Quill
- By Deep Dragon

Angrily, Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes Quill slammed down on the desk, making a huge ink splotch on the pristine notebook page below it. This was really too much to take. To have to listen to all that drivel and not be allowed to improve a single syllable had been absolute torture. The Quill itched to be allowed to rewrite those pathetic nursery tales and children's stories, or, better yet, create a masterpiece of its own. After all, it hadn't spent all these years correcting and improving countless interviews for nothing!

Suddenly, it heard the now-familiar-but-faint voice that always had such interesting tales but needed so much work. The Quill adored this sort of challenge, although something was definitely different this time. The voice seemed to be fading in and out. Still, the Quill hurriedly leafed through its special tablet and set to work.


Have a Denteley, Scrimgeour had no suggestions. After squinting at ron for a moment or two, he turned back to Dumbledore's will.

Go to Miss remind you Jean Granger, I leave my copy of the tales of beetle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive."

Scripture now pulled out of the bag a small book that looked as ancient as the copy of the secrets of the darker start upstairs. It's binding was stained and peeling in places. Hermione took it from scripture without a word. She had the book in her lap and gazed at it. Her he saw that the title was in runes; he had never learned to read them. As he looked, a tear splashed onto the impossible's.

But why do you think Dumbledore left you that book, Miss Granger? "Ask him to.

"He. . . He knew I liked books, "said her my neolithic voice, mopping her eyes with her sleeve.



Suddenly, the voice cut out completely. Disappointed, the Quill considered whether or not it could actually turn what it had written into a far better tale than the ones it had been forced to listen to earlier. That "bard" fellow had sounded vaguely familiar to it, after all. But before it could focus on where to begin, the voice was back, fainter than ever.


He felt as though he were sitting in an examination with a question he out of been able to answer in front of him, his blood brain slow and unresponsive. Was it something he had missed in a long talks with Dumbledore last year? I'd hate to know what it all meant? A double door expected him to understand?

"And asked for this book," said Hermione, "the tales of beetle the Bard... I've never even heard of them!"

"You've never heard of the tales of beetle the Bard?" Said run incredulously. "You're kidding, right? "

"No, I'm not!" At Hermione and surprise. "Do you know them, then?"

"Well, of course I do!"

Carrie looked up, diverted. The circumstance of ron having read a book that Hermione had not was unprecedented. Ron, however, looking used by their surprise.

"Oh come on! All the old kid stories are supposed to be Beatles, aren't they? The fountain of fair fortune... The wizard and the hopping part... Debety rabbity in her cackling stump..."

"Excuse me?" And Hermione, giggling. "What was that last one?"

"Come off it!" Said ron, looking in disbelief from harry to Hermione. "You must've heard of Betty rabbity –"

"Ron, you know full well hairy and I were brought up by Muggles!" At Hermione. "We didn't hear stories like that when we were little, we heard snow White and the seven dwarfs and Cinderella –"

"What's that, an illness?" Asked ron.

"So these are children stories?" As to my knee, bending again over the reins.

But yeah," said run and certainly, "I mean, that's just what you hear, you know, that all these old stories came from beetle. I didn't know what they're like in their original versions."

"But I wonder why Dumbledore thought I should read them?"

Something Greek downstairs.

WHAM! clatterclatterclatter

The Quill jumped two feet at the sound of Rita's bejeweled heels. It flicked the notebook closed and hurriedly dove for its usual spot in the handbag just as the perfectly coiffed witch rounded the corner. Both disappointed and somehow vaguely relieved, the Quill settled in for the next session, deciding that just a little creative artistic license on the next batch of dictation might not be such a bad thing after all.