Work, work, work...
~Rita sits at her desk and writes an owl to a Mr. Barty Crouch, Sr. She isn't terribly excited about interviewing him, but she does need it for a piece. Her handwriting curls across the parchment as Rita admires her own perfect grammar...~
Dear Sir,
My name is RIta Skeeter; I am a junior reporter for the Daily Prophet. I am doing a piece that would require your opinion. Might I schedule an appointment with you to guage your reaction? I would be greatly obliged.
Regards,
Marguerite Anette Skeeter
~Rita called her owl over and wrapped the parchment loosely around it's leg. She sent it off as she reached for a cigarette.~