Quote:

Originally Posted by Cassirin

"Merlin, don't even mention that blasted article," Tate had given up standing over the Sorting Hat and retired to his seat, only to discover that the conversation was nearly as unpleasant as the dim glass of mead sitting by his tarnished plate. The normally honey brown liquid was grayish, and he banished the whole thing back to the kitchen. He'd rather be thirsty than see good mead ruined. Ugh.

Tate eyed the students with distraction before turning back to the table. "I thought about demanding a retraction after the tripe they published, but they don't seem particularly concerned with the truth. Let's pretend the whole thing doesn't exist."

"What blasted article!?" Althea was losing patience. She didn't yell, but she rolled her eyes, her growing frustration clear, though she remained polite enough. She certainly didn't subscribe to the Daily Prophet. She hadn't been back in Britain long enough to bother, and certainly hadn't expected to hear of an article that supposedly included her. As a blacksmith? Did she LOOK like a blacksmith? She eyed her perfect nails and then with a frustrated exhalation of air that set a lock of her hair puffing out in front of her face, she busied her hands with rearranging the cutlery again.

"And what was that, Gaellen?" She gestured with her chin to where his glass had been before. Some grey stuff.