The Daily Prophet offices were fairly expansive, and fairly bustled with activity as wizards and witches busied themselves with the effort of putting out daily editions using enchanted presses. Reporters hurriedly scribbled out articles while photographers prepared their pictures, crafting press plates to produce moving images in the midst of pressed text.
"Excuse me, young man – can I help you?" Eric found himself facing a rickety man in a tweed jacket, smoking a rather twisted and crushed cigar. He had a wild eyed expression, as if a young man standing in the Daily Prophet's office was the most fascinating thing that had happened to him in a very long time.
"Um, yes sir. Does this office have an archive?"
"The finest archives one could possibly hope for. Administered by an insightfully clever wizard who invented his very own means of cataloging articles, I might add." He puffed upon his cigar, staring into Eric's face as if to snatch a coin off his nose.
Shaking off the uneasiness this examination was giving him, Eric inquired further. "May I meet this wizard, sir?"
The man withdrew his cigar from his mouth and beamed a crooked smile. "Rodney Wyndham, at your service."
The spindly Rodney led Eric back through the hurried office into what appeared to be a vast warehouse of wooden paper racks. On each stand held fifty two long slatted shafts with newspapers bound within them. At the front of the warehouse was a small desk. A bank of slots was above it, each slot containing a scroll.
"As you can see, if someone was simply searching these papers for a given article, they may never find what they're looking for. That is why I developed this master index! Now, what are you looking for?"
"A report of a murder: shortly before, well, he disappeared."
Rodney beamed his wicked smile again. "An extensive subject. You'll have a wonderful variety if you're not particular. I suppose, though, that you have a few more details than that."
Eric sighed, then drew out the sketch he made. "She was the victim."
Rodney stared at the paper in disbelief. "No name? You have no date? Are you suggesting that all I have to work with is a hand-drawn sketch?" He drew himself from his desk to stare directly into Eric's face. The smell of his cigar was overpowering as he puffed agitated plumes of smoke. Unexpectedly, he broke into a wide smile. "Now that's what I like – a real challenge!"
Taking the sketch, he laid it out on the desktop. He then took a large scroll, set the pins into a cradle set, and attached small handles to each pin. Placing a monocle over one eye, he then wound out the scroll furiously, mumbling as he went. "I call it 'microprint'. Each scroll contains the compiled printings of an entire year, enchanted down to a more compact size." The parchment whipped by so quickly, Eric couldn't understand how the man could make out anything. Yet without warning, he stopped and spun the parchment back a few inches. "Here we are."
He grabbed Eric's shirt and started scuttling towards the racks. "Come along, now!" Reaching a rearward rack, he drew out one of the folded staves and laid out the papers. "Hmm, hmm, um-hmm – here! Is this the young lady?" Eric looked at the photo, still moving after over ten years, playing out the same scene over and over. The caption underneath indicated the victim as one Evelyn Sable.
"That's her!" Eric read on. The young woman was found in Knockturn Alley, apparently the victim of the Avada Kedavra. Investigators from the Ministry of Magic had searched the site thoroughly, but found no immediate clues regarding the identity of the murderer or the reason for the killing. As Eric looked on, figures moved in and out of the scene, then one caught his eye particularly – a tallish woman, very properly dressed, who seemed to be taking in every detail of the scene.
Eric was stunned. In the picture, as clear as could be, Clareone Peal was investigating his mother's death.