Make A Wish By: Rorschach's Blot 5 *Chapter 5*: In Which We Meet The Intrepid Reporter, ...

Knocking cautiously, the government servant wondered idly what sort of nonsensical conversation the odd man would attempt to drag him into this time. Would it be a dissertation on the possible existence of 'crumple horned snooks' or a theory that one of the Ministers was a surgically altered monkey?

Sighing in annoyance, he walked the last few steps to the threshold and knocked on the door.

"Yes?" A confused looking middle-aged man answered the door immediately, "is it time to buy a box of Scout biscuits again?"

"No Sir," the postman forced a smile, "I'm here to deliver your letter, not sell you something to eat with your tea."

"Oh yes," the man's eyes lit with comprehension, "I forgot that you're still not using trained animals to do it for you."

"Not yet Mr. Lovegood," the postman agreed through pursed lips, "my job is a bit to complicated to give to a trained animal."

"Well give it time," Laetus Lovegood replied sympathetically, "I'm sure you'll figure out the trick to it soon."

"Well, I really must get back on my rounds." The postman said, abruptly ending the conversation. "And don't forget that you can always come into town and get your mail there, you don't always have to take the time waiting for me to arrive."

"Nonsense," Laetus waved it off with a smile, "I'm sure that you'd miss the wonderful conversations that we always find ourselves engaging in."

"I'm sure," the postman agreed in disappointment, then turned to begin the short walk back to the road.

Laetus smirked as he watched the man leave, always keep them confused. Keep them confused that was his motto, make it so they never notice that they forgot to ask you any important questions, like 'what are you doing in my bedroom?' or 'you're looking for what a what?'

Resisting the urge to chuckle until after he had closed the door, the patriarch of the Lovegood clan glanced at the return to block to get some idea of the contents of the letter.

Blinking at the unfamiliar name, Laetus tore open the letter and stared dumbly at the pictures within.

"Luna," he called in a whisper. Clearing his voice, the next summons came at a yell. "LUUUNA, come quickly!"

"What is it, father?" The young girl blinked in confusion, "is it national yell for your daughter day?"

"There is no national yell for your daughter's day." His lips pursed in annoyance, "those close-minded idiots at the ministry rejected our proposal for it last year."

"I know, I was hoping that they had reconsidered and decided to approve it," Luna answered sweetly. "If that wasn't it, then what?"

"Look at these pictures," he handed them to his little girl, "and tell me what you think."

"Oh father," Luna bounced in excitement, "I just knew we'd find proof eventually."

"I know and I can't wait to see the looks on people's faces when they see this in tomorrows edition," Laetus allowed himself to share his daughter's excitement, "but let's find out a few things about this Black fellow before we write up the article."

"I thought you said that checking facts was a waste of time for a serious paper like ours?" Luna gave her father a puzzled look, "that even without bothering to confirm the details, we were still better than the Prophet."

"Human interest my lovely daughter," Laetus's smile brightened, "the people will want to know more about this Black fellow, how he discovered the creatures, what kind of person he is, that sort of thing."

"I see," Luna nodded solemnly, "looks like I have a lot to learn before I can call myself a journalist of your caliber."

"Nonsense," Laetus waved it off, "why you're a hundred times the reporter that I was at your age, and that's why I want you to write this story."

"Me?" Luna clasped her hands in front of her chest, "but rather, it's such an important story, shouldn't you give it to one of your best reporters?"

"I am giving it to one of my best reporters," he put his hand on her on the shoulder, "I want you to talk to someone at the Dutch consulate and try to get as many details about this Black fellow as you can, don't worry if you can't get anything right away, what matters is that we get a story out fast."

"I'll get right on it," Luna smiled, "thank you, father."

"Get to it Lovegood," Laetus's eyes hardened, "I'm not paying you to slack off."

"Yes Sir Mr. Editor Lovegood Sir," Luna nodded happily, "Reporter Lovegood is on the case."

"Then get to it Lovegood," Laetus turned and began to walk away, "I have a deadline to make."

"Bye daddy," Luna tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire, "I'll be back soon."

For several moments, Luna squealed in delight as she felt herself spin wildly around the floo network until finally, she flew out of the fireplace and into the magical section of the Dutch Emba.s.sy to England.

"Name?" A stern-looking man asked with a bland expression.

"Luna Lovegood, a reporter for the 'The Quibbler' and I have a few questions I'd like you to answer," she replied with an excited smile.

"What sort of questions Ms. Lovegood?"

"Oh wait," Luna asked with a look of dismay, "can we do that again."

"O... K," the man agreed shooting her a strange look. "Name?"

"Ms. White, Reporter for the Quibbler," Luna shot him a superior look, "and I have a few questions that I need to be answered."

"Ms. White?" The man inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"It gives a sense of mystery," Luna giggled, "and the stern look puts you off balance, making you more likely to answer questions without considering the consequences. So how did you like it? Was I mysterious enough?"

"If you like," the man shrugged, "what sort of questions would you like me to answer?"

"I need to know about a man that goes by the name," Luna paused for dramatic effect, "Mr. Black."

"I don't . . ." the man trailed off, "this way please."

"Did my tough but approachable method of asking questions make you decide to leak a bit of confidential information that you would not have otherwise revealed?" Luna asked with an innocent expression.

"Please step into this room," the man waved her towards an open door. "Someone will be with you momentarily."

"Oh," Luna nodded in understanding, "word of my presence has reached an unnamed senior official that has decided to leak some high-level information to me."

"Something like that," the man shot her an odd look before closing the door and leaving.

Taking a seat, Luna entertained herself by singing the Hogwarts song . . . in Pig Latin.

After her thirty-fifth repet.i.tion, the door cracked open.

"Ms. Love . . . White?" An attractive looking woman in nondescript robes entered the room, "my name is Anne Van Der Meijer, and I've been told that you have a few questions for me?"

"Yes," Luna nodded happily, "I was wondering what you could tell me about him?"

"Aside from what I observed when I spoke with him after the incident, not much." The woman admitted with a shrug, "what do you want to know first?"

"First, why don't you tell me your account of the incident." Luna asked evenly, fighting to keep the disinterest out of her voice, father always did say that 'a good reporter hides their interest by allowing the interviewee to think that they controlled the situation.

"I was part of the team that responded to the call and when we arrived we found Mr. Black standing over four Death Eaters." Van Der Meijer gave a cold smile, "forensics confirmed that Black put them all down before they even had a chance to get a spell off."

"I didn't realize that he was so skilled," Luna had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, "what are some of your perceptions of the man?"

"I don't know which country he came from but he's a professional," Van Der Meijer shook her head, "I had the chance to talk with him after he gave his report and he gave me some good advice on how to deal with Death Munchers, 'put them down, keep them down, and never turn you back.'"

"I see," Luna nodded and fighting to keep the interest from her voice asked her next question, "did you by chance have a chance to see what his diet consisted of?"

"I'm not sure, but I think that I recall him having some sort of meat dish when I had lunch with him." The woman replied in an off-handed manner, "but why are you asking about that?"

"About what?" Asked innocently as she forced her eyes to focus on a point three feet behind the woman.

"I . . . never mind," the Dutch Law Enforcement Officer shot a strange look at Luna, "what else do you want to know?

"Well," Luna began slowly, trying to decide if the time was right for another of her 'fake questions.' "What sort of organization do you think that he works for: Law Enforcement, Department of Magical Creatures?"

"I don't think that he's an Auror," Van Der Meijer replied after a moment of thought, "Law Enforcement is a small community and I'm sure I would have heard about someone like him before he appeared in Amsterdam."

"I see," Luna nodded, "so do you think that he works for the Department of Magical Creatures?"

"I don't think he works for the Department of Magical Creatures," Van Der Meijer answered flatly, "whenever we asked he just replied that he was n.o.body special, that he was 'just a man on vacation.' I think that he might be something like one of your Unspeakables, or possibly something that we've never even heard of."

"Ok," Luna nodded happily, "was he missing any of the fingers on his right hand, or did he have an extra finger on his left?"

"Not that I noticed," the Dutch woman answered, "nor did I notice any other distinguishing marks."

"Did he speak with an accent that you could recognize?"

"He spoke perfect Dutch with a Haarlem accent, and he was later heard to speak perfect Swedish with a Stockholm accent," the Dutch woman gave a tight smile. "And finally, one of my a.s.sociates has confirmed that he speaks perfect French with a Paris accent. Whoever trained this man did a very good job."

"I see," Luna gathered up her a.s.sorted notes and resolved to end with one of her useless questions, "I have one more question before I wrap things up, just how good is he?"

"He's so good it's scary, he spotted every one of our tails with little or no effort." Van Der Meijer gave Luna a serious look, "if I were a criminal and I learned that he was coming after me, I'd turn myself in and hope like h.e.l.l that they gave me a nice long stay in prison where it would be too inconvenient to come to get me."

"Thank you for your time Ms. Van Der Meijer," Luna gave the Dutch woman a vacant smile, "now if you'll excuse me, I have a story to write."

Luna's mind was awash with thoughts as she tumbled out of the floo network and into her house, "Father."

"What is it, Luna?" The man asked as he entered the room, "did you get the interview."

"Yes father, and I learned some rather shocking news."

"Yes?" Laetus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It appears that all of our theories were wrong," Luna replied quickly, "I have reason to believe that Mr. Black was not on a diet consisting of nothing but rutabagas and goat cheese before he took the picture, Mr. Black was not missing a finger on his right hand, and he did not have an extra finger on his left hand." Luna took a deep breath, "last of all, he did not speak with a p.r.o.nounced Monrovia accent."

"I see," Laetus pursed his lips, "it appears that our theory's about the specific requirements that needed to be met before seeing a Crumplehorned Snorlack were in error."

"Could it be that we were just looking in the wrong place?" Luna asked innocently, "remember, sometimes the simple answerers are the correct ones."

"It's possible," Laetus admitted, "but I think the situation might be a bit more complicated then it first appears."

"Well, we still have a few hours before the story needs to be written." Luna patted her father on the shoulder, "plenty of time to go over my transcripts of the interview to find out what the real answer is."

The two of them immediately went to work, scrutinizing every word and remark made by the Dutch woman, weighing every statement against the facts that they knew to be true until finally . . . "I think that I've figured it out father," Luna closed her eyes, "and I was correct, it was so simple that I almost disregarded it."

"What is it?" Laetus leaned forward, eager to hear his daughter's thoughts.

"What do you know happens in the Department of Mysteries?"

"I know of quite a few things, why?" He asked with a look of interest.

"But it's supposed to be the most secure place in our world," Luna began to smile, "so why do you know what happens within its walls. And while we are on the subject, how is it that a bunch of school children were able to break in?"

"Well . . . " his eyes widened, "you're not suggesting?"

"Exactly," Luna nodded triumphantly, "the Department of Mysteries is nothing more than a false lead, something to keep people from considering the existence of the real secret."

"Another Department," Laetus smiled in approval, "a Department so secret that no hint of its existence has ever reached the public."

"Until now," Luna nodded, "it is my guess that this unnamed Department discovered the circ.u.mstances needed to see the Crumplehorned Snorlack, and then sent this man 'Mr. Black' to cast some sort of spell to allow normal people to see them."

"I think you may be on to something," Laetus stroked his chin, "but it still doesn't explain why he worked so openly."

"I think that we're going to have to a.s.sume that he was telling the truth," Luna pointed to the appropriate section of the transcript, "he's a man on vacation, possibly after his retirement. He doesn't care so much about secrecy at the moment."

Crumblehorned Snorlacks Found In Holland

by Mrs. White

It has long been the Quibbler's a.s.sertion that there are mysteries yet to be solved and creatures yet to be discovered. This refusal of ours to accept the commonly held view has long been caused for ridicule among the Quote mainstream media . . .

Who is Mr. Black

by E. Nigma

Very little is known about the man that is responsible for the pictures that grace the front of this newspaper. We do know that he is a man of exceptional skill and cunning, as evidenced by an incident in Holland in which Mr. Black defeated four Death Eaters before they had a chance to cast a spell . . .