broom Breaking News
| (Hogsmeade) It’s summer and the time for travelling –
but be careful when you travel by ship: Sean MacFee and his ship, the Black
Piranha, are returning again! Finally The Moon Over Wogharts has risen again and we are proud to present you the exciting and romantic tale of the pirate and the merchant’s daughter. Even we were surprised about the story which unravelled in front of your eyes. To make sure you |
can follow the tale we decided to start the story again – and we promise to
have a chapter in each new edition of broom until we’ve reached the end. So join Sean MacFee, the handsome and charismatic pirate, in his adventures and travel to ancient days and wild shores while reading. Enjoy! (BC&MF) |
|
(Manhattan, USA) Muggles miraculously never cease to sorely surprise us,
but this irritating idea is the tantamount top. |
the island became too heavy and heaved over. The Muggles made a plan. They
dumbly decided to safely saw off Manhattan’s rich rear, drag it into the
ocean, tip over the trash and tow the thing together again. And all that
effing effort when a simple spell would do the trick! We’ll keep reporting about that rare event, should it ever become real. (BC) |
broom-e-gram
| June 5 Did you know that Kneazles don't like ducks? Lucky
for Rosemary, of course, she only got a bit of a fright when Rascal dropped
her, spitting a few feathers. June 8 Arsenio Crumlum dropped by and brought us some sweets. Hey - drown the Ministry morons in letters to call for a new election. The Muggles made it, so we can do the same. June 13 We thought Voldemort might pay us a visit, so we locked the doors, barred the windows and only after hours of | tedious work we remembered he's a wizard and can get
into any house blocked the Muggle way only. He didn't come, by the way. June 24 Did you realise it's only 6 months till Christmas? You really should start writing lists now. June 30 Yipiie-a-yay, we made a new broom, and not one printer went on strike. That's a first - and it's an anniversary broom as well, so celebrate!!! |
“broom Will Always Be Around As Long As There Is Magic.”
|
(An Outpost of broom) As it is our third birthday, we here at broom decided
that we should delight you with another one of our brilliant interviews with
ourselves. BC: And just imagine, this one isn’t even faked! UF: And it’s the first one which isn’t. BC: Well, yes… MF: But that doesn’t matter, if you provide people with brilliant journalism. UF: Brilliant journalism isn’t faked. Could you please tell the people now, why we are here?! BC: Sure. broom proudly presents one of its founding mothers, namely Ulrike Friedrich, who will interview the other founding mother Kirsten Seelbach. MF: Only mothers, sounds a bit weird, doesn’t it, Brian? BC: Yes, I’m glad we got our hands in broom, too. If only women were |
responsible, things would end up in chaos. UF: Brian, shut up! MF: Yeah, fight, may the best man win! UF: Mike, shut up as well. Alright, Kirsten, welcome to broom. Let me start with my first question: You have been tied closely to broom over the last couple of years, how do you feel about broom? KS: I’m very proud of it, but sometimes a little exasperated by the editors. UF: What was the absolute highlight? KS: Mmh, difficult. The absolute highlight was the fake interview with Stephen Fry. UF: You are the one behind most BBNs, interviews, reports and most everything, do you have a favourite category? KS: Yes, the Best Bad Boy Board. UF: If you think about the future, do you reckon that broom will still be around? KS: broom will always be around as |
long as there is magic. UF: And do you think Brian and Mike will ever do any work at broom or anywhere else? KS: Er, let me phrase it like that: Perhaps, if the whole of Europe were covered in ice again, those two might consider defrosting their brooms. UF: Geronimo is, of course, a big topic here at broom. Are you the printer’s friend or foe? KS: Oh my God, if I say the wrong thing, it will go on strike. UF: broom’s headquarters is a garden packed into an office, do you think Brian and Mike have gone mad? BC: I’m afraid this will be all we have space for… UF: But I haven’t finished yet! MF: Well, that’s what our business is like! BC: Of course, we would like to thank Kirsten and Ulrike for answering and asking these silly questions. (BC&MF) |
The Moon Over Wogharts
| Shadows were
crossing the black shiny surface of the lake. Only occasionally a star made
its way through the thick clouds, that were chased by the wind. On the border
of the lake a single solitary figure stood, her long blue dress rippling in
the breeze. “Have you been waiting long, my heart?” The newcomer wore a dark
cloak and a velvet mask over his eyes. “A few hours,” the woman answered,
turning and looking at the man with her incredibly green eyes that sparkled
with the shadows. “That is a long time indeed,” the man answered. His voice
was warm and a little hoarse. “Come, we will have to find something more …
secluded.” The couple went towards a little grove. The man took off his mask and his dark eyes smiled at his companion, luring her towards him with a magic force that could not be resisted. With a sigh she fell into his arms. He bent down, slowly, much too slowly for her wishes, then she felt his lips upon hers, sweeter than anything she had ever tasted before. “Oh, Patricia, how I missed you!” he groaned. “Sean, I could not live without you!” she replied, and they kissed again. Very carefully, Sean placed Patricia down onto the moss-blanketed ground. He knelt down beside her, untying the ribbons that held his white blouse. Patricia held her breath as the suntanned skin of her lover’s chest appeared under the white cloth. She had loved him ever since they had met, some two years ago, on that fatal sea voyage – fatal for Patricia’s father, at least. The sea had been wild, full of foaming waves and crying gulls, and the world had seemed to go down that day. Patricia’s father, a rich merchant, had asked his daughter to accompany him on this particular voyage as he had arranged a meeting with another merchant whose son needed a wife. So Patricia was shipped off with the other goods, to be sold for the best price available. She loathed it, but she dearly loved her father. He was all she had after her mother and her infant |
brother had died of consumption some years earlier. So she went
with him – but she had never thought seafaring that dangerous. The ship was
rocking up and down, riding the waves as best as she could. Patricia could not
help wondering if this was an allegory on her own life. Wasn’t she, too,
riding with the waves that were carrying her from one place to another?
Suddenly a cry from outside startled her. A sailor was shouting: “Pirates!
There are pirates!” Patricia had jumped up and rushed to the small round hole that was called a window on this ship. Yes, there was another ship close by – a ship with black sails! Frantically, Patricia tried to bolt her door, then looked for something like a weapon. She found a bottle and smashed it so that she had the shards to defend herself. Her barricade proved little effective – soon a tall man entered her cabin. On seeing her, a smile flashed on his tanned face. Even though she was frightened, Patricia could not help seeing how handsome he was: a shock of untidy black hair crowned a face that would not have been rejected by the finest sculptor of the ancient Greeks. “What a treasure the old man was hiding here!” he laughed. His voice was deep and made shivers run down Patricia’s neck. She nevertheless brandished her glass. “Ho, miss, don’t cut yourself,” the man said. “If you don’t make a fuss, I won’t hurt you – come, miss.” He beckoned her outside. “No!” someone suddenly screamed. There was her father, his face bloodstained and contorted in helpless panic. “Leave my daughter!” he said. Patricia saw her chance. The pirate was looking with poorly hidden amusement at her father. She struck with the shard, but in a flash the pirate caught her wrist. His strength was amazing. “Careful, as I said, miss,” he said and he sounded as if he did not care in the least that someone had just tried to kill him – well, hurt him, as Patricia had to admit. “You are barbarians,” the merchant said. Now tears were streaming down his face. |
Patricia wanted to fling herself into his arms and cry with him, but she
had to defend them both. The pirate sighed. “You cannot win against Sean
MacFee, master merchant. Give up!” Patricia caught her breath. So that was
Sean MacFee, the famous pirate, known and feared in all seven oceans! “Miss,
you will come with me. Kill that one,” MacFee ordered, dragging Patricia with
him by her wrist. “PATRICIA!!!” she heard her father yell, then a swish and a
horrible thud as the sword hit flesh and bones and the head the wet planks.
“You murderer!” Patricia yelled, hammering with her free hand at MacFee’s muscular arm. “Stop that, little miss,” MacFee ordered her sternly. “You will be safe with me, but if I leave, you know you’ll be nothing but fresh meat for my men. So come with me, miss.” Patricia went silent and stopped fighting against her captor. He led her to his own ship, tossing her over the water like some light package. The moon made the pirates’ ship even more ghastly. Patricia shivered involuntarily and cursed herself inwardly as she had been determined that she would not show fear. “Where were you bound to, miss?” the pirate asked her. “That is of no importance to you,” Patricia answered haughtily. “Ah, Miss Shaughnessy, I think it is,” Sean laughed. “How do you know my name?” “Shall I call you Patricia? Very well, then, Patricia, let me show you your home until we find a new one for you.” He opened a door to his right, leading Patricia into a spacious cabin. “It was my cabin, miss, but I gladly give it up for you.” Gallantly he bent over Patricia’s hand. His lips did not quite touch her skin, but the touch of his warm breath made Patricia feel weak and yielding. “I shall leave you. You will have the privilege of eating alone or with me for company, if you wish.” He smiled. “I will not force myself upon you.” He closed the door and Patricia sank down on the floor, dissolving into tears for her father and her own insecure fate. |
broom's Best Bad Boy Board
|
Thanks to old Death Eater links and his uncle’s bold lies, Sebastian Cook
got a place at Hogwarts, was sorted into Slytherin and made the acquaintance
of Ramon Vargas and Roland Banks. Although Sebastian himself would have
preferred a quiet Muggle life, he was thrown into the very worst company of
wizards and had to struggle on in a world he found thoroughly bewildering. And struggling was what Sebastian had to do. He never could do magic with the ease and elegance of Ramon Vargas, and in his fear of being detected, he developed a habit of sneering at others. He was glad to have found cronies who supported him, and who could defend him if need be – and he grew to hate, absolutely hate, Gryffindor students. He especially loathed the so-called Malignant Magpies Hengist Alret, Anne Symmons and Patience Wood. Fed with Death Eater information by Vargas, he began to think that wizards must hate Muggles and were to do Dark Magic. So it was no great surprise when Sebastian began to interest himself in Dark Magic more than was usual. In all his holidays he persuaded Philomena to buy him books at an antiquary in Knockturn Alley where minors were not allowed in. In half the nights at school he forced his way into the Restricted Section at the library. And all the time his father Colin provided him with |
useful information about ways to enrage and frighten Muggles
effectively. Of course Colin did not do this intentionally, but just by
telling funny stories about his job. Sebastian, however, listened closely. Too
closely. Theory of Dark Magic is pretty harmless as such. The dangerous part is putting it into action. And yet it was small wonder that Sebastian and his friends decided to evoke a ghost. It went totally wrong, as you know. Other things that happened to Sebastian included him sprouting blue fur all over his body. From that day on Sebastian had sworn vengeance to his torturers. He would learn more and more about Dark Magic, and then give his information to someone who could use it to effect. He himself, so much was clear, would never be able to do magic to much effect. He was scraping narrow passes in all his exams, and had it not been for threatening letters from his uncle in Azkaban and Severus Snape’s imploring influence would never have made it even through his O.W.L.s. But perhaps the worst thing was that Sebastian had no idea whatsoever of what he could do after school. If you want to know what Cook settled on for a job and how he ever got through his N.E.W.T.s, read on in next month’s broom! (BC&MF) |
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Down
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The looked for phrase:
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Editors' Corner
| My dear readers, I have been at a loss about a rather philosophical statement I recently read. You might be surprised that I can actually read, but let me assure you I’m not as stupid as some people might like to see me (Editors note: Mr Cullen is even more stupid, but we kindly refrain from pointing that out to him.). So, I read the following: “Life would be pleasant if it weren’t for its enjoyments.” It made my thoughts go into a veritable whirl. Think for a moment. Life would be pleasant if it weren’t for the things that |
make it pleasant. It’s paradox. It’s almost insane. What do you do when life does not have any enjoyments? Right – you drudge on day by day and have nothing but work. Oh, and you’ve got work. And for a little relaxing, more work. |
of work and only work was more acceptable than the present life of being forced to do what he pleased. |