Disclaimer: Not mine. Nuh uh.

Working Incognito

ASK CALUS

Dear Calus,

I don't understand how the Ministry could cover up that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back in 1994. It is just deplorable that—

I had to stop this writer right there. All this bitching and whining about how the Ministry covered this up or lied about this... That's what governments do, alright? They lie to you, they keep things from the public, things they feel you don't need to know. You are a child trying to ask your parents about their adult conversation. It made them look bad, also, to be wrong about Voldemort—yes, I said it; the man's been dead for four years, ok? Stop being afraid of him, you cowards!—being dead.

Alright, I have already wasted enough paper on this subject but I will say that more of you should accept that your government lies to you everyday; in fact, the ministry only tells the truth if it shines them in a bright light. Oh, you lot must be the thickest group of leaders—how did I get you? Is The Daily Prophet only being sent to stupid people?

Dear Calus,

My mother is the most beautiful woman in my life and last night, we kissed after dinner. I mean, really kissed, as in snogging. I am eighteen years old and really confused. Is this incest? And she wants to kiss me again so doesn't that make it alright? And should we tell my dad?

-Wants to Marry His Mother

Wants,

You are a sick fuck, Wants. Of course its incest, you disgusting little pervert. But I guess incest runs in the family (no pun intended) so your mum is just as bad. You two need to take some therapy because your mother probably just isn't getting enough from your dad and you are just a horny teenager who will one day regret ever doing that. Did you know Voldemort's grandparents were sister and brother? Now think about this--if your mum gets pregnant from you, not only will the kid be both your sibling and your son/daughter, he could actually turn out to be just like Voldemort. Do you want that?

Honestly, I have the worst lot of readers in London. If any of you want to write me with problems or comments that actually make sense, write me. If not, then go kill yourself, just like Wants needs to do.

I am in the tiniest cubicle on the face on earth. I swear to you that I do not exaggerate. There is only the tiniest desk (think school desk) and a chair. That takes up the entire corner. I mean, I didn't have the executive suite at The Quibbler or anything--I barely had an office--but at least I had room to stretch my arms to the sides without hitting my knuckles.

As soon as I sat down, a large stack of papers appeared in front of me: my new assignments.

"Don't worry," a voice said from above. I looked up to see a petite girl of an indistinguishable age with a short blonde bob and rather stringy fringe. She leaned over the cubical wall in front of me. "It only seems like a lot at first but time goes fast." She thrust out her hand, an engagement ring on her finger next to her pinky. "I'm Lola, by the way."

I shake her hand. "Lucy. Pleasure to meet you and thank you."

She made a fist and rested her chin on it, eying me speculatively. "Did they tell you when your break is and all that nonsense?"

"They did." Just lunch and that's it.

She sighed as a frumpy woman with short poofy hair walked by. Lola eyed her pityingly before confiding, "See her? That is Edna Breckinridge, poor dear. She found her husband with Becky from Dining and Cuisine in bed together, at least that's what Gwendolyn from Celebrities said she overheard the two arguing about."

I hadn't intended on making any friends since I'm sure any friends I made wouldn't be too happy when they'd learn that I was there as a spy, but Lola was just what I needed: a gossiper. It would probably be through her that I would find Calus. I needed to stick with the eyes and ears of The Daily Prophet workers and she seemed the type.

The best way to get "in" with someone? Kiss ass.

I pointed to her engagement ring. "Are you getting married?"

She brightened the way only a woman-in-love can, a glow spreading across her entire face. "Uh huh! To my Stephen Lettico, one of the body guards for The Weird Sisters."

"The Weird Sisters?" I opened my eyes as wide as possible so as to appear impressed. "So you, like, know them?"

"Not personally, but I did meet the drummer, Orsino Thruston, who's Stephen's best mate."

We talked a bit more about her delightful(ly boring) relationship with Stephen and promised to eat together before we had to return to our work.

At least Lola was correct in the sense that time did fly when editing. It seemed like I'd only been working for ten minutes when the bell sounded for lunch.

On the way, and during, our break, Lola told me everything about just about everyone. From Danny-the-incompetent to Andrea-with-no-hope-of-getting-that-loan-for-her-home, I knew all the sordid details.

When she'd settled on the subject of Hilda-from-advertisement being an avid reader of tabloids, I quickly veered the subject around.

"I used to work for a Muggle tabloid," I told her and her eyes went wide with pure envy. Before she could launch into questioning me about that, I quickly added, "You know, I was the advice columnist there"—please don't let her talk to Mr. Dennis, of all people!—"and I wanted to be one here, but I was told that there already is one…" I pretended to try to remember the name. "Calus? Who is he?"

She took a bite of her dry sandwich and replied, her mouth quite full, "I honestly don't know. I've been trying to find out but it seems like he's a phantom, and Mr. Dennis won't spill on his name. It actually could be any one in here, even a fellow editor." She leaned forward, a very…wolfish grin on her lips. "Though I hear he is a former worker here, a sore, bitter man who is related to Grindelwald."

I wasn't quite sure how credible Lola was, and in fact, doubted she had the story right, but I was certain of one thing: I was going to have to do some interviewing—tomorrow since I still had many papers to edit.

A/N: Please tell me what you think!

Lola came from...my own head. She is roughly a depiction of my friend JoJo. All except the blond hair. Yeah, that's her.

Thanks loads to my betas who pointed out the real drummer of the Wierd Sisters and the huge clue I had laying in there.

Next chappie...In which a lie is born...