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No News is Good News Solo

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[font=Copperplate Gothic Light]"No news is good news."[/font]
PROVERB: Without information to the contrary, you can assume that all is well.
January 23rd
Knowledge is a weapon. I intend to be formidably armed.
Mind, some author (Terry Goodkind) was the originator of these words, not Pericles Dralt. Yet he found them words to live by, and such an inspirational line was precisely why a certain thirteen-year-old would bother to do something as dry and dreary as reading the newspaper. He felt firmer on his feet when he was aware of the world's going-ons. If nothing else, reading an "authentic" paper would at least be inspiration for his contributions to the Headliner. So he sat by the lake that Sunday morning, his early ritual of a jog done and over, an article of the Daily Prophet in his hands. The familiar face on the front page was nearly cause enough to drop the thing into the lake.
...a victim of harassment at the school, particularly by muggle-born and half-breed students, some have went as so far as to suggest that Vladimir's failure in health is directly correlated with his association with those of mixed heritages.
Emotions rushed to the forefront, outrage leading the charge. That couldn't be right. It wasn't that he knew him, or his story, particularly well. But that couldn't be right! Now, Pericles had never much liked Vladimir. He was shady, for starters. The prefect considered him a potential threat to his peers more than once, though was conflicted in considering Vlad a peer all the same. He didn't want him to get hurt. He certainly wasn't happy to hear that he was dead. Most vexing about Athanatos was the fact that he was a walking conundrum. Any time they'd gone to him for answers, he only riddled them with even more questions. His actions and words never made black-and-white sense. In Pericles' first year, he had attempted to track Vladimir for an ongoing, internal, student-led investigation about the murder that started this all. Yet the older Ravenclaw had managed to evade him entirely. He had been a bright and ignorant first-year then, with absolutely no concept of what he was getting himself into. Many Ravenclaws had followed Vlad into the Dark and Perilous Wood, where they were viciously attacked by the hag-influenced forest. In his second year, he had come across Vladimir Athanatos in a frigid encounter, with several students witnessing him unconscious in the owlery. Xailah stole a sample of Vlad's blood for investigation. Back then, her collection had been outright alarming, seemingly unnecessary. Now he knew she was right to seek answers about the stuff. The last time he saw Vladimir was at the edge of the dark wood. Once more wounded, once more refusing all offers of help. They had tried to help, hadn't they...? Ravenclaw? Hogwarts? Well, now he was dead.

Half lost in thought, half reading, he hardly skimmed the bit about the Triwizard Tournament. That was unwittingly, wrongly categorized as "old news". Pericles was also not particularly interested in the going-ons of New York, and even less so in placebo love potions, though the next title caught his breath mid-inhale: Coven of Hags Found Near Hogsmeade Dead. The boy stared, dumbfounded for a change. What could they have done differently? Was there no correct solution? That hardly made any sense. Every problem was supposed to have a solution. At least, that's what the young intellectual had always believed. His faith in such optimistic problem-solving was wavering. Faith in staff had fallen first, now faith in fundamentals of the world's workings. Nothing made much sense these days. He and Xailah had been there in the infirmary when Vancleaf, Harry Potter's immensely sus ex-partner was found to be harboring Potter's wand with his equally sus brother nurse. They had literally- or supposedly- had a murder weapon in their possession. He had traveled around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts in search of answers, seen the hag's cottage cottage firsthand, fought alongside many a brave Hogwarts student against dark and treacherous forces. Yet no matter how hard they searched, or fought, or reached out their hands in offers of aid, they never seemed to make much progress. Every time they were gaining ground on a lead, the case veered off in some other horrific direction. It was saddening to think he wasn't as keen of an investigator as he considered himself, but downright scary to consider the alternative: that the mysteries of the world didn't always have a logical, cohesive answer. Was that it, then? After everything, Vlad and the Hags were dead. He hardly had to wonder over who the culprit for the "natural causes" might be.

Bleeding heart that he was, it belatedly occurred to young Pericles that his eyes were watering, nose gone oozy. He sniffed hard, twice, and dabbed the tears away with the sleeve of his robe. Outrage had turned to shock, then on into despair, dwindling towards gray acceptance. He wouldn't be back in the halls any time soon. It was just as well- anticlimaxes always put him off breakfast.
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
No News is Good News Solo
February 1st
A Tuesday, this time around. No room in the schedule for morning jogs or breakfast with the paper, like most suburban dads would prefer. Up early, bracing for the day with his increasingly odd rituals, shepherding the younger years to their proper places. Headfirst into classes, a quick lunch with friends, more Prefectly herding. Afternoon courses, then time to unwind with a bit of evening duel practice. But he would be back by the lake, inevitably. It was within his patrol range. Sometimes, instead of roaming along the water, he tucked himself into the nook of a tree and waited. It was easier to catch those breaking curfew that way- they didn't see him, and always made an awful lot more noise than they realized. There he was, hiding in his tree hole like a proper bird, unfurling yet another article. Anymore, the Daily Prophet was the wizard equivalent of doomscrolling.

Seven muggles found dead near Hogsmeade. He felt a cold sensation permeate his gut on reading that even a toddler was counted in those numbers. How did they- nope! Not getting sucked into more ghost chases. He wouldn't ponder that one, but rather, stuff it deep down in his subconscious, filing the tidbit away in case it became a relevant fact later on. Pericles almost wished he hadn't read today's article, and yet, he was hooked all the same by the next inflammatory title: Purebloods Clamor for a Champion.
The plague of half-breed inclusion has unsettled the magical community as increased tolerance has only bred agitation and greater intolerance.... Eyes have been set towards Hogwarts, one of the few wizarding schools to take on an abundance of 'alternative' students including lycanthropes and dhampirs much to the public's dismay.... Perhaps a contest of some sort to remedy this insult will be in our future.
Peri swallowed down an exasperated groan. How was this stuff getting published?! They were a school, not a gladiator ring! Honestly- settling a dispute about blood status with a contest? He felt as though the world had been set back thirty years. Or, maybe, two-thousand years. History really did have a knack for repeating itself. Last, but certainly not least, the staggeringly controversial prospect of an Elixir of Youth, let alone an Elixir of Life. "Oh, good," Pericles muttered dryly to the tree. "Government regulated immortality."
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
No News is Good News Solo
March 1st
A different Tuesday, a different article.
Like a standard guard NPC, Pericles was alternating between conducting his patrol and reading the paper. He was not a negligible prefect, though his rounds at the lake were one of his sole sources of "quiet alone time", and a fresh article had just come out that day. Informing one's self was arming one's self, he'd always supposed. But lately, the only thing the news seemed to offer was an early-life onset of high blood pressure.
Due to sizable financial contributions by an unnamed source as well as a political climate demanding improved cooperation as the inclusive nature of Hogwarts has led to magical community unrest the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports Gabriel Blackthorne has agreed to partner with the international community to host the next Triwizard Tournament.
Victim of a political agenda! Peri mused with bittersweet triumph to himself. Called it.
When Headmaster Lear announced the tournament, he had seemed more tired and troubled than excited. It came as no surprise that money and politics were involved in this decision. A pause to pity the beleaguered old warlock, then a lick of his thumb, and a turn of the page.
An employee for the laboratory has claimed it was all Aniruddha’s idea in an attempt to gain worldwide recognition and that they believed that the products they were making were actually beauty potions.
He wasn't certain how he felt; first came relief for the fact that this mind-shattering potential was just a hoax, then doubt. What if there was an elixer, and now it was in the wrong hands...? A coverup? No, he shouldn't go out of his way to trouble his thoughts with "what-ifs" today. He tried to be relieved knowing they wouldn't be selling immortality on the shelves, but that was dashed instantly on reading the next article title:
Youths Assaulted by Giant in Hogsmeade
The dangerous precedent that we have set for ourselves by attempting to mainstream half-breed wizards. The temperament of half-breeds is rather volatile and when you then encourage them to live and school alongside wizards incidents such as these are surely bound to come up. Hogwarts has been reached out to but at this time there has been no comment on the incident.
Propoganda, he sneered internally, the vaguest curl of disgust tugging his upper lip. Of course they would find a way to turn a tragedy with a Being into hate-speech for half-wixes. No matter how convoluted that transition was, no matter how baseless or far-reaching, there were those who would believe this sort of drivel. Use it as a sorry excuse to fuel their hatred, as if they weren't people, or individuals, with thoughts and feelings and moralities. Baby's First Case of Losing Faith in Humanity. On the opposite end of that conundrum was S.C.A.R.A.B.. Peri heaved an actual sigh at that one. He wanted to believe in this group, wanted to think they really were a beacon of hope for half-wixes, paragons of fair representation. But come on. The name was literally S.C.A.R. with a couple more letters!

He couldn't take much more news, which was just as well, because he had finished the article. It placed Pericles in a rather grim mindset. All this information, yet he couldn't do much of anything with it. Was it worth it, reading the news? Letting his mind be run 'round in circles? Perhaps it was best to stay away from the paper, for a little while, until he had himself sorted out. Rolling the article into a tight scroll, he slid it into a bin as he passed by, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and proceeding with patrol. Pericles had hoped to find some trace of closure in these articles, but at the end of the day, no news was good news.
[font=Copperplate Gothic Light]FIN.
{ 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔶: 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢, 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔶 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔞. }
(iNPC: Madhup Hexum)
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