wendy slinkhard. journalist and sometimes author. lumosfm.
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Wendy brought her hands up to cover her face, feeling her face heat in embarrassment. She took a deep breath and straightened to face Pandora.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. "My boss is just being a bit of a prick is all." She shrugged as if you say 'what can you do'.
Pandora had requested a book, an ordinary one, not her usual rare or obscure finds, but still something of value. With the book finally in hand, she allowed herself a moment to wander the shop, eyes drifting along the shelves in case something else caught her interest.
As she turned a corner, a voice reached her ears and her brows knit in confusion. "I did," she replied, realizing a moment too late that maybe she should’ve pretended not to hear. That would’ve saved them the embarrassment of being caught talking to themselves. "Is everything alright?" she asked, her tone gentle but curious.
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"How do you do this every day?" Wendy asked. It was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on her in the lift. "You would think by now, we would have figured out a way to make this thing like the TARDIS inside." She pressed her open palms against the back wall of the lift and let the cool feeling ground her.
She snorted out a laugh, earning her a dirty look from the witch in question. "I'm so glad the Prophet isn't this busy," she muttered, mostly to herself.
Not jostling would be a luxurious achievement. Squashed back against the mirrored wall, Ted raised his mug above the pungent witch's head and wrinkled his nose at the overly fragrant scent.
"Always," he replied, looking down at Wendy with a regretful smile as the elevator jolted into motion. Thankfully, it was going down first instead of up. "I'm sure it's very safe. Must have a whole lot of enchantments controlling it, but you'd think they'd add one to make it bigger on the inside, wouldn't you?" Pausing as the doors opened and a few people squeezed out, he nodded discreetly at the witch in front of her, and muttered with matter-of-fact resignation. "That smell will probably give me a migraine."
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Wendy had been asked to sit in the White Wyvern and eavesdrop. Its location in Knockturn Alley made it a gathering place for some of London's more seedy individuals. The Order was hoping to take advantage of Wendy's work-honed ability to overhear things and read between the lines in conversations to see if any information about the Death Eaters could be found.
She hadn't even bothered with a glamour or altering her appearance. It wasn't really common knowledge that she was working with the Order, after all. And it wasn't as if the Prophet's offices were all that far from the pub.
She had slid into a seat at the bar and ordered a pint when the man next to her had spoken up. She cut her eyes to the side and sized up Severus with a raised eyebrow. "Evening, Snape," she said, accepting her drink from the bartender with a smile.
where: the white wyvern who: @wendyslinkhards
Severus was starting to think he spent far too much time at the White Wyvern. He sat perched at the bar, notebook open in front of him, scribbling down a few scattered thoughts when he felt someone slip into the seat beside him. His head turned slightly, catching a glimpse of blonde hair. He arched a brow. "Evening..." A had reached forward to slide his book from her in front of her.
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location: status: open to only order members!
All she could remember was a good fight won by the Orders as she and the other member had what they came for. Her heart was still fighting against her chest and she took a chance to pause. They were well within miles away and the woods covered their shapes in the dark but still, she sensed fear. Mary was proud that she was able to not only withstand a duel, but win. It wasn't due to her sucess alone, but the other Order member who she shared the victory with. "Do you think we've lost them? Did we miss anything?"
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Wendy laughed at Ted's description of his daughter. "Well, with parents like you and Andromeda, she certainly wasn't going to not be smart," she said, trying to avoid jostling him as they were pressed into the back of the elevator. She took a deep breath as a witch wearing far too much patchouli jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow.
"Is it always like this?" She asked, turning her head to face her friend. "This feels... Distinctly unsafe."
It'd been a long time since anyone had considered Dora a baby. But she'd always be his little girl. It didn't matter how quickly she grew or much she chatted back at him with that confident-but-kind sass of hers - she'd always be a baby, in his eyes. Still, he laughed and turned to face Wendy, getting lightly jostled in the process as more people joined the crowd for the elevator.
"The little Nymph is seven now," he told her, adjusting the files in his arms. "Seven going on thirty-seven. Thinks she knows an awful lot more than she does, but honestly, she's pretty smart. Clumsy as hell. But she's got a good head on her shoulders, and I'm not just saying it because I'm biased." The elevator chime dinged, witches and wizards filing out hurriedly and focussed. He didn't know where they got the energy to move so quickly. "You have to fight for your life to get in," he told her. "Ready?" And then he grabbed her sleeve with the two free fingers that weren't gripping his now empty coffee mug and moved them both inside the elevator without waiting to let anyone else pass. They ended up crushed against the back wall. It was nothing new, but it was tedious. "Andromeda's alright," he continued, undeterred by being rammed like a sardine in a tiny tin. "Well, we're doing our best. How about you?"
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She hitched her bag up on her shoulder and shook her head. "I don't feel obliged, don't worry," she said with a smile. "The offer still stands, if you want." Her eyes drifted close and she took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of ink and paper and dust around her. She already felt better than she had when she'd walked in.
At Edgar's question, Wendy opened her eyes. "Yeah," she said with a shrug. "My boss is a bit of a prick, but... It could be worse."

Shoulders shook with gentle laughter. " Let’s just keep this between you && me. Best not have that floating around. You’ll get me in all kinds of trouble. " Sometimes the best medicine was to share some laughter. " Really, I was only joking, don’t feel obliged, just don’t want you worrying. " Taking a deep breath, he inhaled the scent of paper, fresh books marred by ink. “There’s something about a new book smell.”

Taking a breath, he took a moment to try and make sure he worded what he wanted to say properly. Words sometimes fumbled together && he could sound careless or cold. With a gentle murmur, he said "Jokes aside, Wendy, are you okay ? Is there anything I can do to help? Whatever it is, we former Ravenclaws have to stick together. "
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Wendy huffed out a giggle and shook her head. "I should have known you'd be so easy to bribe," she teased, straightening up from the shelf and stepping closer to Edgar. She hitched her bag up over her shoulder.
"Do you want to go get a cup of tea or a coffee?" she asked with a grin, "My treat, so that you don't spill all of my secrets."
Callous fingertips traced the back of each spine in turn, as weary eyes scanned the title looking for something that would provide his temporary escape. There was something liberating in the smell of books, old && new. In the weight in his hands, and the feel of each page turned. It brought him back to simpler days. They held the promise of a refuge — of an escape. A brief moment of freedom from the responsibility, from the duty, from the grief. A chance for his mind to switch off && come alive. Edgar felt most himself when he was either flying through a cloudless night, cool breeze in his hair, as dark eyes peered upwards to take in the majesty of the night sky. Or when he had the time to read. It refreshed him. A voice brought him out of his thoughts, adjusting his glasses, it took all he could not to smile at the words. He needed to ‘get it together’ most days. With the constant gloom of the times, it was becoming harder && harder. With a simple shrug, he simply stated, “ – If I did hear anything, my silence can be bought with a cup of tea, or a chocolate, yes, chocolate is good. ”

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location: flourish and blotts status: open to all!
Wendy had always found solace in a room full of books. When she'd been at school and felt homesick, she had often found herself lingering in the library long past the other students. Even as an adult, she would retreat to a bookstore or a library when she needed a quiet place to think and get her mind in order.
Which was why she had sought out Flourish and Blotts that morning. She'd had a less-than-satisfactory conversation with her editor, and had been able to maintain her dignity long enough to retreat from the office and go to her happy place. She'd found a quiet spot in a dusty, disused corner of the shop and leaned against the shelf behind her, tipping her head back and breathing in the smell of ink and paper. "Get it together, Slinkhard," she muttered to herself, shutting her eyes, only to jerk them open again when she heard a sound from nearby.
"Please tell me you didn't just hear me talking to myself," she groaned to whoever was there, face flaming red in embarrassment.
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Wendy could feel her hands shaking as the adrenaline from the duel wore off. She was pretty sure she'd been hit with a hex at some point; When she brought her fingers up to her temple and pulled them away, they were sticky with blood. Nothing a quick episkey and some dittany wouldn't fix once they were back at her flat, though.
"I think we lost them," she said after listening to the forest around them for a moment. "I know I stunned one. Hopefully they haven't come out of it yet. Are you okay?"
location: status: open to only order members!
All she could remember was a good fight won by the Orders as she and the other member had what they came for. Her heart was still fighting against her chest and she took a chance to pause. They were well within miles away and the woods covered their shapes in the dark but still, she sensed fear. Mary was proud that she was able to not only withstand a duel, but win. It wasn't due to her sucess alone, but the other Order member who she shared the victory with. "Do you think we've lost them? Did we miss anything?"
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location: flourish and blotts status: open to all!
Wendy had always found solace in a room full of books. When she'd been at school and felt homesick, she had often found herself lingering in the library long past the other students. Even as an adult, she would retreat to a bookstore or a library when she needed a quiet place to think and get her mind in order.
Which was why she had sought out Flourish and Blotts that morning. She'd had a less-than-satisfactory conversation with her editor, and had been able to maintain her dignity long enough to retreat from the office and go to her happy place. She'd found a quiet spot in a dusty, disused corner of the shop and leaned against the shelf behind her, tipping her head back and breathing in the smell of ink and paper. "Get it together, Slinkhard," she muttered to herself, shutting her eyes, only to jerk them open again when she heard a sound from nearby.
"Please tell me you didn't just hear me talking to myself," she groaned to whoever was there, face flaming red in embarrassment.
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Wendy acknowledged his very full hands with a smile and a raised brow before turning to fall into step beside him. "Please," she said as they approached the lift. "I would be grateful for the company."
As they waited for the elevator, she turned to him. "How are Andromeda and the baby?" She asked. "Well, I suppose she's not a baby anymore, but to me she is," she added with a giggle.
That grin only made him smile more, his tired features transforming instantly into something more youthful. It was funny how old friends and a little nostalgia could soothe anything.
"I'm good," he chuckled, standing stock still as she hugged him, not because he was uncomfortable but because any movement would've spilled either files or coffee. As she pulled away, he motioned the coffee cup towards the papers still tucked under his arm. It was a gesture both apologetic and regretful. "Busier than ever," he told her honestly, shrugging a shoulder then taking a deep gulp of his beverage. "You know how it is. It's the smuggling trial this morning, isn't it? That took months of work and it's an important cause. We shouldn't be exploiting magical creatures and plants as ingredients, if they're not protected by law. The effects reach further than making a quick sack of galleons. Make sure you spread the word, won't you?" He was sure she would. "Can I walk you down to the dungeons? We can catch-up along the way."
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Wendy laughed again. "Not a stalker," she said cheerfully. "Just a reporter." She looked down at her notes and furrowed her brow in thought. She flicked to the next page, similarly covered in lines and lines of her tidy shorthand. "Travel. Distance, when your person is out on the road. Moving to follow your partner and leaving everything behind every few years, if they get traded to another team," she said. She took a sip from her pint and considered her notes for another moment.
Then she looked back up at him and tilted her head to the side slightly, looking almost clinically curious. "What's your story?" She asked, resting her head in her hand. "How does someone from, I'm assuming America, end up in wizarding London?"
Max understood Quidditch, while some terms he was still trying to learn, he grasped onto what he did know. But his brows frowned together in confusion at her sharing her notes. It wasn't the names of the players themselves but their partners. "So...you're some kind of stalker?" he asked, glancing back up at her. Surely she wasn't with this much research and the fact that she already said she was a writer with the publication. "No, I get it. Partners of the players. What sacrifices have you learned so far besides dealing with bad sportsmanship and bad mouths when they get back from a game?"
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LILY JAMES as DONNA SHERIDAN in MAMMA MIA! HERE WE GO AGAIN | dir. Ol Parker
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Lily James via naokoscintu's Instagram (2025)
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Walking into the Ministry always intimidated Wendy. There was something distinctly unsettling about the scale of it, that all of the cogs that worked the entire British wizarding world were, for the most part, located in one building. It was also always crowded, no matter the time of day, and she hated feeling too surrounded by other people.
Her assignment today was to report on a trial in the dungeons. Something about importing illegal potions ingredients. She had hoped that by getting to the Ministry early enough, she could avoid the usual crush of people coming into work. She had just had her wand scanned when she heard a familiar voice.
"Ted!" Her face split into a grin. "Oh, nothing, just some trial reporting. How are you?" She leaned forward to hug him. "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."
Starter for: Wendy Slinkhard @wendyslinkhards Where: Atrium in the Ministry of Magic When: start of the day
Ted was used to early mornings. He often got up early to run, working up a sweat before heading to the Ministry and exhausting himself mentally with whatever joys the war brought to his plate. So here he was, bright and early, and wielding an exceptionally large mug of coffee as he paced through the Atrium towards the Auror Department. A thick wad of files were tucked under his arm, marked 'confidential' and sealed with charms that only he and his colleagues would be able to unravel. If they fell into the wrong hands, it'd be very unlikely that anyone would crack through them - and the failed attempt would leave them with visible results, marking their guilt for all to see.
Stopping by a table holding daily newspapers, he picked up a copy of the Prophet and cast a cursory glance over the doom and gloom adorning the front page. He was almost numb to it, seeing horrors every day and loathing the fact that his emotional reactions were so muted, as though he were losing an essential part of himself. He didn't much like how this war was changing him. But what else could he do?
Looking up, he moved to continue his path. But then he caught sight of a familiar witch and halted her with a broad smile. "Wotcher, Slinks. What brings the press to the Ministry?" It probably wasn't anything good. Still, it was nice to see her. It'd been a while.
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Wendy laughed out loud at his comment. Frankly, her notes were a little more in depth than they needed to be. It probably did look like the beginnings of a novel to anyone else. She leaned in and pointed at a name.
"This," she said with an air of faux-solemnity, "Is the girlfriend of Puddlemere United's keeper." She dragged her finger down the page until it rested under another name. "And this is the wife of the Ballycastle Bats' seeker." She sat back in her chair. "It's a fluff piece for the society pages on the sacrifices these women make being with a professional quidditch player." She wrinkled her nose slightly to communicate exactly what she thought about it as an assignment.
The Prophet. He remembered seeing it the other day in the hands of someone at the Ministry. "Could've fooled me," he says. There was little truth in the newspapers these days and wondered if it was the same in another country or worse. There were political conflicts going on, he wasn't blind to it. His own interest had him leaning forward to glance over her work. At least it didn't say anything about wars, violence, or death. Instead, he found a lot of female names and a maze of notes. "What kind of story is this? Who are these people?
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