“…and after your internship at Gringos, you won the Triwizard Tournament of 2073?”

Fletcher couldn’t help yawning. He shook his head at the literal ghost writer penning his autobiography. “The internship at Gringott’s was AFTER I won, but before I graduated.”

“Mmm.” A floating quill fixed the narrative, while a second adjusted Fletcher’s timeline, and a third came to rest behind the ghost’s ear. “Now where was this bank located?”

“Gringotts?” Fletcher blinked as another quill nudged his hand. The ghost didn’t know ancient Gringotts?! “Diagon Alley…”

“Ah-a. I don’t get out much anymore.”

Or he was just a featherbrain.