Pepper stared in mild puzzlement, wondering if this was how every meeting started. Of course, the Daily Prophet was considered one of the best wizarding publications, so maybe this happened when one put a lot of creative people in one room? Or an obscure custom? Many put great comfort in customs, that much Pepper knew. But maybe, he thought as he watched, he should tell that nervous-looking woman that eight and nine were much luckier numbers than seven. His mother had always said so. It had been common knowledge in the village!

Finally, the man at the head of the table called the meeting to order. Pepper listened silently, scratching the top of his head with his ballpoint pen absent-mindedly, not noticing until it was too late that he'd been doing so with the tip, not to end. He put it down hurriedly next to his notebook. "Ah, I wonder if I could, opine a comment?" he ventured. That was how you said it, right?

He nodded at the woman a few seats up the table. She'd called Mr Serio Boss Man (he'd written it down all neatly), so maybe that was how Pepper was supposed to address the editor? No no, that would be too informal. "As my colleaguess said, Mr Man," he said, pleased he got it right, "is it really, ah, appropriate for us to to listen to the Ministry? We should not, um... play... nice?" He looked questioningly at the woman. "No, we should play bad. Bad, yes." There. He had successfully adapted a colloquial expression. He twanged his pen on the table for emphasis.