Chapter 27 | maeve laughs and cries. in exactly that order.

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---------------------> FIRE BURNED AROUND HER, licking at her skin while smoke poured from the hem of her dress like whips

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---------------------> FIRE BURNED AROUND HER, licking at her skin while smoke poured from the hem of her dress like whips. Once the flames had called into embers, Maeve stepped out of the fireplace to the white marbled tiles aligning her house, greeted by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway and the flapping of wings which grew in volume. 

She placed the two cacti on a tea-table before looking around, deducing that her parents hadn't returned from visiting Bruce's mother at the hospital just as an owl used her shoulders as a perching stool, digging its sharp talons into her skin. It was a bad day to wear a dress with spaghetti sleeves. Nevertheless, Maeve giggled and stroked the neck feathers of the owl when she noticed the letter it carried.

"What do you have there?" She asked the owl, who released a hoot in response.

Gently prying the letter from the owl, Maeve opened it, revealing inked words: Attack occurred two minutes ago. Come to D.P HQ immediately.

After writing a quick note to her parents about her whereabouts, Maeve wasted no time in spinning on her heel and returning to the fireplace to floo to the Daily Prophet Headquarters at Diagon Alley. Outside, dusk had dissipated into darkness. The pale crescent moon shone like a silvery claw in the night sky while the blanket of glittering stars stretched to infinity.

However, inside the confines of the pastel-walled workspace, stacks of papers scattered across desks and the floors alike like replicas of parchment-versions of Eiffel towers. Journalists and reporters yelled nonsensically, moving their arms in exaggerated motions while taking notes on any blank space available and bumping into each other.

Rachel emerged from her office into the almost-tangible chaos in the common space. Her curly dark hair was in a disarray atop her head and a vein threatened to pop on her forehead. She brought two fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly, capturing attention and prompting grimaces at the high piercing sound it caused. "Upstairs. Now," she commanded like a general to a battalion of soldiers. Without waiting for them, Rachel marched towards the spiralling staircase.

Like ducklings, all the journalists trailed Rachel, climbing up the stairs to the conference room, which had been expanded enough to fit the strength of the employees present. Maeve manoeuvred her way towards Rita, Melissa and the other intern who stood huddled near a corner.

"Is everyone here?" asked Rachel as she tallied the headcount in her head. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, her lips twisted into something grim. "It's past most of your working hours, I know, but we need all hands on deck. An attack took place a few minutes ago in Surrey. The dark mark is still burning in the sky, possibly violating the International Statute of Secrecy. I want to know the implications," she looked pointedly at the team of journalists specialising in law and matters relating to it.

Then, Rachel ordered each of them with a specific task. The other intern and Melissa were to shadow the Aurors like a sticking charm, Rita and sixteen more senior journalists were to visit the multiple sites the attack took place and question witnesses while Maeve, along with four others, was assigned on hospital duty: to get the accounts of the victims, to find out how they were faring—that is; if the victims were willing to talk to them.

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