Rita looked at the boy on the platform with a smirk planted on her face. She sat in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, writing about the play, Urg the Unclean. After a well-deserved holiday in South-Eastern Asia, she was returning to her job. After many years, Hogwarts was conducting a play and she had to write about that. The set was horribly done, and the clothes of the students/actors were all abhorrent. Of course, as goblins, their clothes were supposed to be like that, but her readers were not gonna pay attention to that.
'Would you like a coffee, ma'am?' A boy in white robes came up to her with small, steaming cups filled with coffee. Rita smiled coldly at him and picked a cup with her hand. As she sipped the coffee, her eyes moved across the hall. She snapped open her purse and grabbed her wand to cool down the coffee.
The Quill froze instantly, the ink dripping from its nib onto the parchment when Rita opened her purse. The Quill rose instantly the moment the purse was closed. It peered over to see the damage done on the parchment on which it was writing. So far, everything seemed good:
'Fanna plus,' sha sai. 'Isabeth to clin, ja know whadda men? Bi tunnachural. Oh, thizzz bedder,' she aaded aj they untured Frairy's wedroom undi tunned nn the lie.
Has room waj suddenly much Messi then the rate adha house. Kufied tight for for daj una verry ba mood, Hurry hanot bodered tidying up after hisef. Musta the buks ee owned we stroon cover the flour wedded tied to distat hiself wid itch in tan und thrawn at azite; He wig's caje needle clenching oww and was starteta smell; und his track laa pen, rivilina jubled milkshake of mugging clots and wizzazz robs thatad spit on to a flour arondi.
Everything seemed good to him except the spelling of 'owned' which it changed to 'ooned'. Now, everything was perfect. The grammar, the spelling, etc. The Quill looked at the paper with pride; it had been one of its most difficult ones, no matter the length. All the six rule sof grammar it knew had been used in this sentence, and it was a big accomplishment for it, doing it within a short amount of time. The Quill rolled up the parchment and threw itself into a nice pot of ink, relaxing.
The purse opened again and Rita's hand reached into it. It groped around and found the Quill in the ink. She took it out and again her hand went in, taking out a parchment. The Quill breathed a sigh of relief as it saw that the parchment was not the one he had written on, for it would be in big trouble then. Rita sucked at the tip of the Quill, and set it down to write.