Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter and all its subthings, including characters, Hogwarts, the Hogwarts Express, the different houses, the word/concept "Muggle" and any other stuff that The Great JKR made up, because she made it up. *rereads sentence* Ah! Repetition! Umanyway. We do not own Knopf Guides, any stuff in Paris, or King Narmer. We do own Paneknofret, Isabelle, and Khet Bint Nebt.

Author's Note: This is going to be *dun dun dunnn* a semi-serious fic. *collective gasp* Yeah, we know. Anyway, please tell us if its getting too obnoxiously wordy, and only do that if you've got some idea of the difference between wordiness and descriptiveness, and Anne Rice rules.

Tabloid

by Godforsaken Celebrinel Hatshepsut and Lantarmiel Calenchill

*~*Prologue*~*

The sun slipped down over the horizon, and the city of lights was embraced in a deep blackness, which it fought off as best it could.

In a blocked-off room underneath Paris, near Gilbert's false tomb, the lid of a large stone Egyptian-style sarcophagus scraped to the side. A bone-white, delicately featured face came into view. It bore a slight resemblance to the statues of Queen Hatshepsut.

However, the sarcophagus' inhabitant predates the great Queen by some fifteen hundred years.

The ancient vampire Paneknofret stepped delicately out of the great stone coffin and slid the lid back into place, carefully, so as to avoid closing it on her knee-length black hair. She looked down at the effigy of herself on the lid and smiled. Ah, carved in stone she still looked Egyptian.

There was a slight click, and the lid of the other coffin flew back. Though more of a traditional vampire's coffin—black-laquered, tapered at the ends into a vaguely human shape, with blood-red script on the lid—it contained an ever-so-slightly less traditional-looking vampire.

Isabelle pushed her wavy red hair out of her face as she sat up, and sent a ferocious glare towards Paneknofret as an evening greeting.

The five-thousand-year-old blood hunter smiled back serenely. Love you too, darling dear. Good evening.

I'd like to take a shower before we hunt, her French fledgling replied.

Paneknofret nodded agreeably, adjusting her black pashmina, and set off through the catacombs. Isabelle grumbled for no particular reason and followed, the noise of her coffin banging shut echoing through the underground of Paris.

Two hundred fifty years old, and she still can't get over being an ex-noblewoman, Paneknofret thought loudly.

Stop harping on that. The Revolution's over, Isabelle snarled, her ever-present aura of graciousness lessening somewhat. The amused Paneknofret kept walking, silent.

When the two entered their extensive apartment (a typical abode for their kind), they were greeted by the sight of a pure white envelope covered in curly blue handwriting resting peacefully on the wine-colored carpet. Paneknofret bent down in a catlike movement and picked up the letter, smiling. Isabelle closed the door behind her and leaned over Paneknofret's shoulder, peering at the return address, Khet Binet Nebet, through Paneknofret's jeweled fingers.

"Did we get accepted?"

Paneknofret glanced at her impatient fledgling and slowly, very slowly, opened the envelope, removed the paper from it, unfolded itall this she took her own sweet time with, just to needle Isabelle, to prove that haste or lack of it did not make the slightest difference anymore. They silently skimmed the letter from Khet Binet Nebet.

Khet Binet Nebet is Egyptian for "Every Evil Thing." It is also the name of an irregularly disseminated vampire newspaper that is usually regarded as a tabloid. It's marketed as pure fiction, and extremely inconsistent, meaning that it doesn't have regular hired writers—the staff consists of two managers, one of whom is from the illustrious 18th Dynasty of Egypt, who stop it from dying completely. It does not come out on a schedule—only as often as they have enough interesting material to fill up a slim issue. Since vampires are solitary creatures, and are into neither organizing things for their species nor doing business with them, it has been years since an issue was completed. The newsletter was created on a whim by two vampires with nothing else to do during the high point of yellow journalism, with no purpose whatsoever. However, vampires are often bored, and its popularity is in fact 100% due to the fact that writing for it is a fun recreational activity. It gives the writers something to do when the pointlessness of existence gets to them.

The letter was as follows:

Paneknofret and Isabelle:

We are quite happy that you wish to cover the goings-on at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this upcoming school year. It seems as if much could happen in the next several months, so we have already arranged for you to be there. The both of you are Ravenclaw 5th years, and thy are as such as we discussed, and already drawn into the records of the school (the security is horrendous). You know where to send thy stories. Good luck.

The Management at Khet Binet Nebet

Wonder of wonders, something to do! Isabelle said, a smile crossing her face. Paneknofret's response was somewhat more exuberant, hugging her taller fledgling around the waist as she rattled off a rather impressive list of obsolete dieties to be thanked. She dropped the letter in the fire, kissed Isabelle on the cheek, and went to change her clothes.

Once her maker was safely out of sight, Isabelle jumped in the air and went very quietly, before heading towards the bathroom.

A/N: We love random little cameos, and need to be able to fill up the full school, which could tax our imaginations somewhat. So if you have an original (meaning original!) character, put a description in your review and we'll try to use him/her/it. If you don't, please review anyway. It makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like tea. *hugs mug of tea protectively* My preciousss

*hem* Sorry. *points quietly to review button*