broom Breaking News
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(Felton) A disgusting demonstration of democratic dallying took
place when a decidedly flabby flagellant flailed flakes for freedom in
Felton. The ferocious flogger beat bushes and caned cushions to find flakes which were meant to symbolize the deliverance from Death Eaters. Unfortunately the unique display for discharging |
the dark dabbler caused a public outcry of deepest disgust. Flagellation and
flakes of any kind flailed around are most certainly not a sign of protest. However, courage needs to be acknowledged, so although we shudder in disgust we still encourage this phenomenal flabby flagellant. (MF) |
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(Colchester) Ministry morons mourn the memorable misuse of office
shown by one of their nitwit numbers. In a cagey cabal involving intimate confidants of the marionette minister, a perfidious plot was hatched to harass poor Pius Thicknesse out of office. The compromised cad, confidant and |
critical adviser is said to be in league with liberal powers.
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broom-e-gram
| September 9 Oh dear, oh dear, we have some sense of
foreboding - we've got a heavy bout of clearvoyance! September 14 Yep, the thing we dreaded did happen. We were asked to come up to the headmaster's office at school and lo and behold, Professor Dumbledore gave us a real elcture about being none the wiser since we left school. Ouch. September 17 It's unfair we get an earful when others are just as bad and are cuddled just because you can't spare them. No offence, Hengist and Anne. September 19 It's a triple birthday today. Hermione Granger, Patience and our Slave PhD all celebrate today - but seperately. |
September 22 We have a party, because you must celebrate
every day of your life! Cheerio! September 29 Boy, that hangover lasted for such a long time... We can't remember where we put all our things for the next edition. We must clean up now... September 30 Oh dear. No broom. No articles. And Geronimo on strike. HELP!!! October 14 Geronimo is working - grudgingly and creaking, but working. We are sincerely sorry for the delay - and pretty pissed because none of you asked for the next edition. Fine readers you are. Hey - we love you of course!!! |
| (Somewhere) There are a lot of people any
good reporter would kill to interview. Our present interviewee would kill
most everyone if she could – she uses the Killing Curse left, right and
centre. Mike Flatley dared the impossible and indeed succeeded in
interviewing the First Lady of Death Eaters: Bellatrix Lestrange. MF: I am pleased to be allowed to ask you some questions, Ms Lestrange. BL: Well, people must understand our noble mission to embrace it whole-heartedly. We are therefore not only required to use force, but also coercion. MF: How interesting. Your own family, I believe, was the main reason for you to join the Dark Forces. BL: I never harboured a single doubt whether I should join Lord Voldemort |
or not. Unlike my foolish sister Andromeda
or my cousin Petronella, I stayed true to the family motto: Toujours pure. MF: Ah yes, I see. There are a lot of people who would like to know what makes it possible for you to stay so close to Voldemort. BL: He is the embodiment of our dreams. What we aspire, he has already done. His vision is that of the perfect world, a world freed from Mudbloods, where Muggles are finally reduced to their natural role. MF: And which role is that? BL: Why, that of slaves to us pure-blood wizards, of course. MF: Naturally. Ms Lestrange, what is your personal motive to do as much work for your cause? BL: Well, that is easy to say: Love. |
Devotion. I own my very life to the Dark Lord. I live for him –
through him! |
Travelling Tales
| (Edinburgh) Having been told that experience stems from
the Latin words pes - meaning foot - and ex - meaning
out - we decided to get to know Edinburgh on foot. We set out shortly past 9 on another sunny day and headed for Princes Street. Soon enough we managed not to hold the map upside down and easily found our way to one of the city's shopping malls. Princes Street happens to be one km long. As we hadn't as yet understood the concept of buses, we walked on foot, although there are only shops on one side of the street. |
Of course, we also found some interesting things on the other
side - well, had to actually. There is, for example, the Scott Monument.
Scott, Sir Walter to his friends, was a fellow writer some two hundred years
ago. And we want a monument, too, by the way. There is a park too - it's called gardens but definitely it is a park: loads of flowers, grass, benches, pidgeons - you know the stuff. Knowing that our dear readers like to dive deeply into the waves of culture we also should mention the National Gallery and the Royal Scottish Academy, which |
resemble some Roman ruins before they were ruins. This nicely
takes us to some other ruin - in Greece this time: the Parthenon temple. The natives of Edinburgh once had the great idea to relax in the shade of the glory of their wartime heroes and the Greek metropolis of Athens. Therefore they started work on a replica of the above named temple. Unfortunately, they ran out of money and the temple had to remain unfinished. Grace became disgrace, replica became ruin. We became tired and returned to our flat. (MF) |
broom's Best Bad Boy Board
| The Banks-family were hoping for better times which
saw them do Lord Voldemort’s bidding instead of the work they were doing
right now. Wunibald was a janitor and Elvira a house-wife with a roaring
trade of preparing cakes for her friends, and Roland – well, Roland was
himself: stupid and jobless. In the year when Voldemort returned from Albania, the Banks were at their lowest point. There was no doubt that Roland was on the one hand not qualified for many jobs, on the other hand much too proud to accept those jobs available to him. When Wunibald’s Dark Mark began to reappear and glow around the time of the Quidditch World Cup, he began to hope. What if the Dark Lord would rise to power again? He had never deserted the old ways – that was mainly because nobody had thought him important enough to question him. So he hoped and waited, and waited and hoped. For whatever reason, his hope was well-founded. |
One day, a man clad in a dark hooded robe came to the
Banks’ house and knocked and was let in and greeted quite happily. Wunibald
introduced his son Roland (“a very promising young man, and taught in our
ways”) to this man, whose name was Avery. He had recently broken out of
Azkaban and was happy for any hideout he could find. A hint from old friends
told him that the Banks would gladly have him to stay. Stay Avery certainly did, disguised as a brother of Mrs Banks. Roland admired Avery beyond reason. That was what he wanted to be: cunning, swift, admired, trusted and favoured by the Dark Lord himself. He began to pester Avery for being taught more sinister magic. If Roland managed to learn for once in his life and what happened when Voldemort moved into the open you can read in the next edition of your favourite magical magazine! |
The Lost Sandals
| There was no time for Parry to take a break. The guard
asked him for his ticket and threatened the young boy to throw him out of
the train should he not be able to show a ticket. Parry searched his pockets.
And he searched his socks. And he searched his luggage. Nothing. The ticket
was gone. A split second before he got thrown out he remembered that it was
in the hiding in his belt. He pulled it out and was allowed to stay. Leaving
behind a sad guard who had been looking forward to throwing another student
from the train. Parry washed the beads of sweat from his face and looked for an empty compartment. He did not like company. His years at the house of the Sirlys had changed his attitude towards his fellow human beings. There he had simply gotten too much of it. He was not spared it for long. A tiny boy entered the compartment sat down and asked: “What are you looking at?” It was Right Peasley – a first year just like Parry. They did not talk and |
while Right ate the delicious sandwich his mother had prepared for him Parry
had to starve. Not before long another person entered the compartment. She
asked for a frog – obviously she was quite hungry just like Parry. Well, had
there been a frog Parry would have dealt with it – but there just wasn’t. Raghid, the Quarter-Dwarf, welcomed the first years at Wogharts – the new ones just as the old ones. The first task they had to deal with was to water-ski across the lake. Mumblefore had arranged it that it always rained over the lake. At least the chances to get wet were equally distributed. If you did not fall into the lake to get soaking wet the rain would arrange this and so at the end all new students – if they managed or not, leaving alone those who drowned – were all wet. Parry managed. Dripping he waited with the other first years in front of the Little Room. Maco Dralfoy approached him. And said in a cold and evil voice: “Then |
it is true what they said on the train: Parry Hotter is now at
Wogharts.” Lightly he added: “We should go and have a drink some day.” They
shook hands. The peduity madhistress joined them. She tapped Maco on the
shoulder. “No drinks will be served after midnight.” She informed the young
guest. “Robert!” A tiny, delicate boy shouted as a frog jumped right in
front of GagMonagall’s feet. He bent down to pick his pet up just at that
moment GagMonagall kicked it away. “So sorry, dear.” She said and turned.
“We’re ready for you now.” The Little Room was true to its name, there was in deed little room. At five tables the people had gathered. The teachers sat at the head of the room. In front of their table waited one chair. The last one. The task for the first years was to run as fast as possible and to secure the chair. “Why didn’t I pack my sandals.” Parry thought to himself. In the next edition you will learn why the sandals wouldn’t have helped and which house Parry will have to join. |
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Have fun, Severus!