Friday, late evening. Hooch's rooms, Hogwarts
Hooch has learned from Minerva's example. Last weekend's patrolling in Hogsmeade had led to the purchase of a souvenir, a nice bottle of cherry brandy, now decanted from its original bulbous dark brown bottle into a tall thin bottle with a label on it which reads "Vitalise Potion. Ease those tired muscles. Apply after vigorous exercise."
Whatever the contents, it aids relaxation, she thinks. And after an evening giving detention, she feels she deserves it.
She pours a generous measure of her 'potion' into a tooth mug and sips from it as she removes her robes and gets ready for bed. A relaxing bubble bath, another chapter of her book, and then she re-enters her bedroom in silken nightdress and dressing gown, finishes the rest of her drink and pours herself another one before sitting down at her writing desk to scribble a couple of short notes before bedtime.
Dear Miss Skeeter,
I hope that you remember me from the Triwizard Tournament, for which you were the Prophet's correspondent on the spot. I currently find myself in need of a little publicity push for a charity event, and would be grateful for any advice you could give on the subject.
Should you wish an exclusive interview, I am of course at your disposal.
Yours,
X. R. Hooch
The second letter is a somewhat more tentative approach. She has no doubt that Rita will respond; she hasn't seen her byline much in the past couple of years, except for those exclusives with Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy, and no doubt she'll be only too happy to keep her name in public view. Her other correspondent she remembers only vaguely from her schooldays as a small and shy first year in her final year, and as a studious NEWT student maintaining an equally low profile when she came back to teach. But she's seen her around the school a lot lately, painting a portrait of the Parkinson girl and the Malfoy boy or some such nonsense, and she's the only artist she knows.
Dear Ms Black,
I don't know if you remember me? Xiomara Hooch - I had the pleasure" - or somewhat interesting experience - "of teaching your daughter Games at Hogwarts. I am currently organising a fundraising effort for a charity scholarship in memory of one of our old students, Cedric Diggory. We plan to launch this with a weekend of events at the school, and need someone to draw us up some advertising material and ticket designs as soon as possible.
Would you be interested in the commission yourself? Failing that, if you could recommend someone suitable for the job I would be in your debt.
Yours,
X. R. Hooch
Satisfied that she's done, she blots each page and puts away her quill and ink. Opening the window, she calls for an owl and feeds it a couple of treats on her window-ledge before entrusting it with the two scrolls. It hoots gently and flies away into the night, London bound.
Whatever the contents, it aids relaxation, she thinks. And after an evening giving detention, she feels she deserves it.
She pours a generous measure of her 'potion' into a tooth mug and sips from it as she removes her robes and gets ready for bed. A relaxing bubble bath, another chapter of her book, and then she re-enters her bedroom in silken nightdress and dressing gown, finishes the rest of her drink and pours herself another one before sitting down at her writing desk to scribble a couple of short notes before bedtime.
Dear Miss Skeeter,
I hope that you remember me from the Triwizard Tournament, for which you were the Prophet's correspondent on the spot. I currently find myself in need of a little publicity push for a charity event, and would be grateful for any advice you could give on the subject.
Should you wish an exclusive interview, I am of course at your disposal.
Yours,
X. R. Hooch
The second letter is a somewhat more tentative approach. She has no doubt that Rita will respond; she hasn't seen her byline much in the past couple of years, except for those exclusives with Harry Potter and Lucius Malfoy, and no doubt she'll be only too happy to keep her name in public view. Her other correspondent she remembers only vaguely from her schooldays as a small and shy first year in her final year, and as a studious NEWT student maintaining an equally low profile when she came back to teach. But she's seen her around the school a lot lately, painting a portrait of the Parkinson girl and the Malfoy boy or some such nonsense, and she's the only artist she knows.
Dear Ms Black,
I don't know if you remember me? Xiomara Hooch - I had the pleasure" - or somewhat interesting experience - "of teaching your daughter Games at Hogwarts. I am currently organising a fundraising effort for a charity scholarship in memory of one of our old students, Cedric Diggory. We plan to launch this with a weekend of events at the school, and need someone to draw us up some advertising material and ticket designs as soon as possible.
Would you be interested in the commission yourself? Failing that, if you could recommend someone suitable for the job I would be in your debt.
Yours,
X. R. Hooch
Satisfied that she's done, she blots each page and puts away her quill and ink. Opening the window, she calls for an owl and feeds it a couple of treats on her window-ledge before entrusting it with the two scrolls. It hoots gently and flies away into the night, London bound.