A/N: Here we go, another chapter. You're going to kill me, there's no Marcus.. BUT there's news! Yay! The next chappy will be up by the end of next week and is incredibly squee worthy so hang in there my pigmy pufflets, all will be well.

Disclaimer: By now I'm running out of creative ways to tell you the depressing news that I'm not JK.

Katie smoothed the front on her dark pencil skirt, hoping that it would somehow also settle the butterflies, or as Luna would insist, nargles, in her stomach. She had apparated to Diagon Alley twenty minutes ago and still hasn't quite worked up the Gryffindor courage to enter the tall brick building that loomed over her. The Prophet headquarters were buzzing with activity, owls of all breeds and sizes soared in and out of the wide arched windows and a large plaque above the door embossed itself with the latest news headlines every few minutes 'Muggle Relations Minister has Relations with Muggle?' 'Chudley Cannons plundered by Puddlemere!'

A cough from ahead caught her attention and she looked down to see a lanky young man with a mop of sandy hair and glasses that acted more as a statement than anything else. His arms were stacked with papers and a cardboard carton cradling cups of piping hot pepper up potion. He looked at her expectantly, holing the door open with a foot. 'Coming in?'

With a quick nod she hurried past him into the lobby.

'So what brings you to Prophet HQ on a Monday morning?'

'I'm starting an internship with the Department of..'

'Sports.'

'That obvious?'

He laughed lightly, his fringe falling into his eyes. 'They're the last department to recruit, took them ages.' He shuffled the papers in his arms freeing up a hand and holding it out, 'Adam, intern with Photography.'

'Katie.'

'Well Katie, you want the fourth floor, Floos are this way.'

Adam strode ahead as Katie took in her surroundings, making a mental map. He led her down a series of long corridors and one particularly disturbing portrait of Rita Skeeter before arriving in a round room lined with fireplaces.

'Just follow the numbers around the room, I'll be on the top floor if you need me.' And with that Adam stepped into the green flames of fireplace 6 and disappeared.

Katie wandered along the wall until she found fireplace 4, then, just like her first day at Platform 9 ¾ she took a deep breath and ran.

The office for the Department of Sports was a large oval room filled haphazardly with various desks and chairs. Moving photographs of various Quidditch stars reading and posing with copies of The Prophet hung on the walls and loose snitches from winning league finals flitted near the ceiling.

'Katie!'

'Mr Thomas.' A friendly looking man in slacks had got out from behind the biggest desk in the room. 'Kurt, please.' It took the thirty seconds between shaking his hand and being led to her own desk for Katie to realise that Kurt Thomas was in fact Kurt Thomas, former captain of the Appleby Arrows. One of the photos above her desk, taken five years ago, confirmed it. Turing her head she groaned at the next photo along. Adrian Pucey's chiselled and irritatingly smug jaw filled the shot as he kissed his copy of the wizarding paper.

'So, Katie?'

'Yes Mr, sorry, I mean Kurt.'

'Welcome to the team.' A low murmur of consent rang out from the other desks in the room. 'Sorry, they were all out late at the First String Ball last night and no one remembered Pepper Up.' Thinking back to Adam's full carton of cups, Katie assumed the Photography department had been there too. The First String Ball was the night when the teams of the league declared which of their reserves would be making the First team mid-season, which explained why for the first time since they had moved in together, Ange hadn't been up bright and early criticising her choice of sugary cereals. She nodded understandingly.

'Speaking of, the First String Ball actually has a lot to do with your first assignment...'

Katie's eyes widened.

'Last night the Harpies announced Angelina Johnson as the mid-season addition to their line up. We want an interview at her opening game this weekend.'

Merlin! Ange had made it! She was a Harpy! Katie resisted the urge for a '90 second dance party', made famous by her nights in with the girls watching the muggle show Grey's Anatomy. She watched it for the romance, Ali watched for the hot doctors and Ange simply sat and insisted that if they had just used Skelegrow in the first place...

'Katie...'

'Oh, sorry.'

Kurt smiled, 'It's fine, must be an exciting time at home.'

'Definitely, Ange has worked for this since Hogwarts.'

'Which is why, you're perfect for the piece. You two were on the Gryffindor team together weren't you?'

She nodded smiling.

'Well I'll let you sort yourself out, any questions I'm over there behind that massive pile of late articles.'

Katie settled herself in her chair and mentally squealed. She was a Quidditch reporter, and Angie was a Harpy! This was going to be the best weekend ever! 'Oh,' she called after Kurt, 'Completely forgot, where's the match?'

'Holyhead, 2.00pm on Saturday. They'll be playing the Falcons.'

Katie froze. Spoke too soon, this would be potentially the most disastrous weekend in history.