broom Breaking News

                            Sensational, Singular Snowflake Sighted

A fascinating, frozen flake was found freshly flying, falling ferociously onto a fashionable Ford Fiesta.
Frozen crystals fortunately can be found close to everywhere by the closing of fall for water freezes in the clouds and waits to fall down on our country. Still, this sighting was rather sensational since someone thought of showing this singular snowflake to the staff of this super monthly magazine. Many Muggles might not 		make much of this message, however, wizards and witches will wonder when another wet water web will work its way down to this wonderland. Happy humans hope for heaps of snow snowing down directly from heaven and changing our home into a winter wonderland. Welcome to this world sensational, singular snowflake!
(ALL)

Potential Paternal Prig Produced Porcelain

(Wizarding World) Not long ago, broom boasted blissfully about the painstaking presentation of their very vivid version of the magical Biography. Further-ranging research found a distant relation of the magnificent Moon Child: Enoch Wood.
It was one of those chance chivalric detections demonstrating the hazardous hand of fanciful fate. Violet Vainglory tried to turn around a saucy saucer to have a long look at its whereabouts – and that was it. Enoch and Ralph Wood, living in the 18th

century, were Muggle manufacturers of perfect plain porcelain. That, however, was thought an art closely connected to archaic alchemy – consequently careful craft of that sort suggested suspicions of sinister sorcery. Evil Enoch, alas, alack, was no wizard but a busy businessman bringing up his sons to work in the family firm. Ralph the rowdy was one of them. So it is now patently proved, the parental prodigy of the Woods consists of singularly sober Muggle men and women until very recently. (VV)

broom-e-gram

December 2 Somehow we mislayed our advent calendar. That's a pity, for we're dying to know what is behind the doors.
December 6 This is Nearly Headless Nick's namesake's day in Germany, when children get sweets and little gifts. Cool, ey?
December 10 Perhaps it's time to care about Christmas presents, especially for our dear malefactor Lucius Malfoy. A key to his cell in Azkaban might be appropriate.
December 12 We've sent owl orders to get some presents. Okay, well, it's ties for the males and chocolates for the females. 		December 17 The owl orders haven't arrived yet. Maybe our Muggle informants all ordered the same things, and now all the stores are running low on ties and chocolates.
December 22 Saturday before Christmas, no tree, no presents, no Christmas broom - argh!
December 31 Over the holidays we managed to solve all our problems. We've got gifts and even some to give away to friends and family. We've got both editions of broom finished, and we weren't raided. Happy New Year out there!!

“No.”

(broom Headquarters) Us being obsessed with Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, you might be able to imagine our feelings when Mr. Laurie did not agree to be interviewed by us. Therefore we didn’t ask him in the first place.
broom: Mr. Laurie, we are doing a fake interview with you, can you tell us anything of the feelings you have about that?
HL: Well, being not here in person I feel quite good. Despite, since I’m not here, I didn’t actually know it.
broom: Don’t you think someone will tell you about it.
HL: As my best friend Stephen is no reader of broom – not even occasionally – and since there are no other readers of your so called magazine, no.
broom: That was quite frank of you.		 HL: No, Hugh, just Hugh.
broom: Us? Well, we are famous for asking rather straight forward questions.
HL: I didn’t know you were famous.
broom: What about another question?
HL: Yes, certainly. How do you feel about not interviewing me, but sitting in your garden-like office and faking an interview.
broom: Actually, you are the interviewee whereas we are the interviewer. We are the ones supposed to ask you questions.
HL: I think you’re just trying to change topics.
broom: Well, being obsessed with Stephen and you we would feel even better if you were here in person.
HL: That was very kind of you.
broom: By the way, would you have come if we had invited you?
HL: No.		 broom: Why?
HL: There’s too much to do at the moment. Some bits of work here and some bits of work there.
broom: Is that one reason why you didn’t get involved in the Harry Potter-mania production?
HL: Yes. Definitely Stephen is quite into this mania being obsessed with the stories himself, he is a good transmitter of this obsession.
broom: Did you know that he sent us his autograph on a photo?
HL: Well, that was quite kind of him.
broom: Yes, and it was quite kind of Hugh to not do this fake interview with us.
As always, the stuff of broom thanks the interviewee for not bothering to really show up at broom head-quarters, for that would have meant that we had to do real work, too.

broom's Best Bad Boy Board

Alright. We got your message. You think we aren’t bad guys at all. But, hey, just take a look at our Ministry records, you’ll see just how bad we are. There are no worse editors in the world, really! Well, since we would never dare to interfere with a democratic vote, we sigh and resign ourselves to devoting a year to the most stupid of the triad of stupidity: Roland Banks, last of the cronies of Ramon Vargas to be written about, now that we’ve finished with Sebastian Cook. So here we go, with our new Best Bad Boy!
Certainly Roland Banks figures prominently among those losers who are eager to follow Voldemort’s bidding. Although Banks has never exactly been brilliant, he knows enough to be a danger to everyone around. However, he’s a danger to himself 		most of the time – lucky for us, if a bit embarrassing for him.
Roland Banks’ parents, Elvira and Wunibald, were rather proud when they were cursed, erm, blessed, with the birth of the baby boy. The family was renowned for nothing in particular but perhaps a reputation of following the big bully in lead. That is to say, Wunibald Banks was a very low-ranking Death Eater whose biggest job was to Stun a mutinous house-elf, while Elvira submitted to baking birthday cakes for fellow Death Eaters. Nevertheless, young Roland – and later on his sister Seraphia – was told many a glorious tale about the merits of Lord Voldemort. Not capable of detecting the flaws in the tale, Roland grew up in fervent admiration of the bad old times. In the next edition we will follow the young anti-hero to Hogwarts.

The Moon Over Wogharts

Devereux was stunned for a moment. He would have thought money, or a reasonable part of the load of spices on the Lavish Lady was the thing the pirates were after. But a talk about that merchant’s daughter…
“Interesting,” Devereux said thoughtfully. MacFee nodded and turned to an astonishingly nice cupboard, taking up a delicately-formed decanter and waving it towards Asher Devereux. “Some brandy for a start?” he asked. Asher shrugged. “I might as well have some.”
“It’s Shaughnessy’s finest, believe me,” MacFee assured him casually, poured two generous glasses and handed Asher one of them.
“To Patricia and her good – or should I say, her large – fortune,” the pirate said roughly and tipped the glass to swallow its contents in one sip.
Asher followed suit and shuddered. The stuff wasn’t half as fine as he’d expected it to be. Trust a merchant not to know the really good stuff from vile spirits. “Not to your taste? Pity,” MacFee said and dragged a chair towards where Asher was standing. “Sit, it makes talking easier. Kit!”
The door to he captain’s cabin opened immediately and admitted the boy whose eager face showed how awed he was to serve the famous captain of the Black Piranha. “Yes, sir?” he asked.		 “Fetch us some bread and ale and meat, and make sure it’s not the meat with maggots in it. Captain’s rations, do you understand? I’m entertaining a guest,” Sean ordered. Kit nodded and sprang away.
“Isn’t he too young to be a pirate already?” Asher asked. “He’s an orphan boy. He was about to be sent to work in the Cornish tin mines, and believe me, that would have been his death. Now he earns reasonable wages and can send some home to spare his sisters prowling the streets and his brothers from going to the mines or factories,” Sean informed him. “There’s lots of children starving, Mr Devereux, although you might be blissfully unaware of that.” Devereux coloured self-consciously. “I’m afraid this isn’t my realm of knowledge,” he admitted.
Sean nodded. “And why should it be. I take it you are on your way to marry your betrothed?” “I am, yes,” Asher replied stiffly and held out his glass. “Do you have some more, even if it’s not the best brandy?” Wordlessly, Sean refilled his guest’s glass. “This is not my idea,” Asher mumbled after he had drained the glass of brandy. “What isn’t?” Sean asked, suddenly interested. Asher grimaced. “Everything. I might be a merchant’s son, but I was never allowed to act as one. I was a kind of ambassador to the rich and powerful. I acted the courtier and signed		  transactions – but unlike Mr Shaughnessy, I’ve never actually sold anything,” Asher said.
“Don’t wait for any pity from me,” Sean laughed. Asher eyed him. “I would love to know what brought you to become a pirate, Mr MacFee. I think I heard your name and your brother’s in St James.” At that moment the door opened and Kit backed in, carrying a tray laden with meat, bread and tankard of ale. “Here, captain, your dinner. I’ll lay the table, shall I?” Kit enquired and immediately put his words into action. Sean watched the boy and smiled. “That will do, Kit. Thank you,” he said. Kit bowed awkwardly. “You may leave,” Sean added, seeing that the boy made no move towards the door. “Oh. I s’pose you want ter talk to yer guest,” he said disappointed and lapsing into the usual dialect. “Manners and language, Kit,” Sean said reproachfully. “Oh, sorry. I shall leave you alone, sirs,” Kit said and left.
“You’re teaching him manners?” Devereux asked when Sean beckoned him to the table. “It’s useful. You know how much language and accent count. Kit, or Christopher Molloy, as he’s really called, shall get every chance I can assist him to get,” Sean said seriously. “Why that?” Asher asked. Sean smiled sadly. “That’s all to do with me and nothing with the boy.”

Sudoku






7



1



 



 



 



 



 



6



3








3



 



 



7



1



 



 



 



 








9



 



 



6



 



 



 



4



7








4



 



 



1



 



 



 


7


6








 



 



 



8



7



2



9



 



 








 



7



9



 



 



6



5



 



 








2



5



 



9



6



7



 



 



8









 



 



 



 



 



 



7



 



1







8



9



7



 



 



 



6



 



 

Happy New Year, Severus!

Relatives!

(The World – at least, we assume that) Family is a wonderful thing. Everybody agrees on that. But when Christmas has come and gone, many people wish that holidays would come only once in three years or even less often. An overdose of family is highly dangerous, but any able potioneer knows that good things can turn poisonous when overdosed. However, family can be fun as well. Especially funny are relatives with slightly, how shall we phrase it, eccentric behaviour or looks.
This is a truth universally acknowledged all over the world. Muggles or magical people alike suffer from relatives, whereas Muggles get the better deal: their relations at least don’t come back to haunt them! A good friend of the author’s has a great-aunt who died at the blessed age of 85 in 1845, but still visits the family

at turns.
Ghost relatives might be the hardest to bear, but normal relatives can be a nuisance just as well. Some tend to be rather commanding, which is especially annoying when you’ve got more than one of that kind and they meet in a relatively close space. Urgh! Others are very kind and nearly smother you in tenderness and kisses and hugs.
The very best sort of relatives is, understandably, the kind you are able to poke fun at – mostly without their knowing. For example, another friend of the author’s has a very kind, old grandfather who sometimes likes a fair share of attention. This is nothing to make fun of, but since this grandfather loves being ill he invents all kinds of diseases. In addition to that grandpa is a bit clumsy. His latest adventure was being unable to push the button on a lighter, insisting to 

press it and wondering why it didn’t work.
If you are inclined to tut now and shake your head at our irreverence towards old age, take the next example: A rather corpulent aunt with a bust called “wonderfully voluptuous but slightly overwhelming” by Brian Cullen would have been called a very fat woman by everyone else. All the family were very amused thinking about all kinds of strange accidents including auntie being stuck in a door. Now, imagine that! Auntie wanted to tie her shoes, and, having such an enormous overweight atop her belly, fell face forwards to the floor! Relatives can be a source for malignant joy, right?
broom would like to add that we all love our families very much and wouldn’t exchange them for others – especially not for normal, boring families without any eccentricities! (MF)

Lost and Found

A Matter of Life and Death
People are sending tons of owls with mail to our office and by now we are able to have a jolly good bonfire whenever we please – of course, only after we have published the looked for or found items! Anyway, keep informing us for we are so curious what you would like to return to its possessor or re-get from a borrower.
A rather queer request reached us lately, however, after having discussed it for some time we agreed to publish it. A

certain Nicolas Flamel is looking for the Philosopher’s Stone. He claims that he lent it to a good friend who apparently lost it. The Stone was last seen in the pocket of a certain Harry Potter. He reported that it disappeared when he was unconscious and never showed up since.
The former friend of Nicolas Flamel confessed to have taken it back from the boy after having magically transferred it to his pocket. He argues that he put it in an envelope, gave it to an owl and sent it

right back to its possessor the afore mentioned Nicolas Flamel. Unfortunately, the owl never arrived at Flamel’s place.
The man remembered that it might have been a certain Erol who was to deliver the envelope. Therefore Mr. Flamel would like to have this owl and or the Stone. If any of you has seen either of the two, please do contact Mr. Flamel. He’s dieing to get his Stone back!
Mmh, much better than the last one! (ALL)

Disclaimer: All names, characters and places are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner bros., except of those not found in the "Harry Potter" books and movies which belong to Ulrike Friedrich and Kirsten Seelbach. No financial and/or commercial gain is intended.