"Go~od afternoon, Mister and Missus Magical United Kingdom and all our friends abroad. This is Silas, coming to you live from this special report at the Hogwarts Career Fair here on WWXZ."

The soothing, practiced tenor of Silas Woodward -- the voice of WWXZ -- carried over the rumble of the Great Hall, loud enough to be heard in silence but soft enough to be spoken over as was only polite. It came from a number of radios and gramophones that had been scattered around prior to broadcast, deposited at other people's booths or charmed to hover alongside the candles.

Silas had managed, with a bit of a struggle, to claim a booth along one wall, close to the action of the crowd but far enough from the Prophet booth to avoid picking a fight. While a table to one side held the usual pamphlets, information packets, and piles of free promotional wand-tassels, most of the space was transformed into an open-air recording booth complete with sound board, broadcasting equipment, and the ticker-tape updates from HQ. An old-fashioned microphone hung in mid-air, alongside a silver scrying bowl and a small red sign that flashed, "On Air."

In the center of it all stood Silas, with headphones over his ears and sleeves rolled up to show off the wriggling tattoos that covered both arms. Occasionally his eyes -- the real ones -- darted over the crowd in search of someone. But, never finding him, they always returned to the mic and his floating notes.

"Now I know, listeners, that this is much earlier than we usually chat, but I just couldn't pass up this golden opportunity. The Hogwarts Career Fair is a time-honored tradition that goes back, oh, at least since last year. It offers an excellent service to our upcoming professional witches and wizards of note. And I spend so much time locked away in that little booth of mine that I never get to see any of you! Well, not in person anyway..."

He gave the scrying bowl little a spin and winked at the cluster of students who'd been attracted by recognition or curiosity. The third eye on his forehead, while clearly made of ink, continued to shine as though it were actually peering out into the unknown world.

"Besides, for some reason, we here at WWXZ got left out of the press corps for the Tetrawizard Tournament. Can you believe that? Not a single invitation! So this is the only chance I've gotten all year to visit my old alma mater. I'll tell you, listeners, Hogwarts is as beautiful as she ever was -- so grand, so majestic, and you can hardly tell where they had to patch up the old battle scars. And, I hear they finally got rid of that rogue zencesprite infestation that was muddling up people's minds in the library. Good for them! I'd still keep an eye on it though. Those little buggers have a habit of cropping back up during exam season.

"Of course, zencesprites aren't the only thing to look for..."

Silas lowered his eyes to the dark oil of the scrying bowl. It reflected both the lights of the Great Hall and the glow of his own tattoo, forming pictures in the black surface. His mind momentarily blank, Silas could just make out their shape: rounded pipes, a decorative chamber and an empty, abandoned snake skin.

"There's still the matter of that particularly large serpent that interrupted some of our Champions during the last Tournament Task. Now, the official statement is that the creature was a hallucination, something cooked up under stress. But you and I know better, don't we listeners? Maybe he'll be kind enough to grace our presence today for an interview. Assuming he -- it -- can be interviewed."

He gave the bowl another spin, dispersing the vision, and lowered it back to the table with a swish of his wand. He then tucked the silver lime shaft into the knot of his hair and began flipping switches on the soundboard, setting up the next recorded track.

"But! First, dear listeners, I must send you off to a word from our sponsors, followed by the latest single from Cristina Triplewick and the relaxing sounds of migrating humpback whales. I'll return to you soon to continue this live broadcast, so stay tuned to WWXZ for all the truth you know is out there."

He flipped the final switch and turned the broadcast over to a rambling ad for some obscure brand of wand-polish. Then, he tugged the ever-present headphones from his ears to their usual resting place around his neck. The glowing eye faded and half-closed, but remained visible. The "On Air" sign clicked off.

Pushing his sleeves up ever further to show off even more of his arms, Silas turned to the gathered students with a welcoming smile. "Hi there," he said, dropping most of the 'radio voice' in favor of softer casual conversation. "Any of you interested in our summer internship? Or are you just looking for an interview?"

Peyton had spent most of the morning like he usually did, out on the pitch, straddling Phoenix (his broom) and practicing Quidditch. There was one last game, Ravenclaw v Gryffindor before the Quidditch House cup and while his team had never been pushed harder and never preformed better the Claws just weren't in the running for the Cup this year. This had only proven to make Peyton work harder to try and get as many points in their final game and go out with a bang. If he did well enough he could keep his Captaincy going into his final year of Hogwarts which would be a great asset when trying out for Professional teams come Graduation. In fact that was why he was here, in a round about way. Over the Spring Holidays he had gotten into a fight with his parents about his future. He was convinced that he could go Pro with Quidditch and while they weren't doubting his skills they wanted him to be realistic and at least have a back up plan if things fell through. Finally he consented to visiting the Career Fair to at least see what his other options were.

With sweat still glistening in his hair and Phoenix draped over his shoulder Peyton had come to a stop outside the makeshift radio booth. He had been drawn in by the voice, he had listened to the wireless programme of few times before but wasn't as avid about it as his younger sister was. It had him thinking about an old Muggle saying his Gran used to say, 'those who can't do, teach.' Gran had been a History Teacher most of her life and was rather proud of it but she had kept true to the saying. Peyton had no idea what she couldn't 'Do' that lead her to teaching but it did have him thinking. If he couldn't go Pro with Quidditch he could teach people about it, and what better way to teach than to be a Sports Caster for the Wireless?

After Silas finished his broadcast and addressed the small crowd around the booth Peyton found himself staring at the older man longer than he probably should have. He had never really been one to like tattoos but they were certainly working for Mr Woodward. Finally finding his voice he asked, "Do you cover Quidditch?" He supposed he should have inquired about the internship, it would be a perfect way to get his parents off his back but his interests were clearly elsewhere.

Silas did not, as a rule, flirt with school-aged wizards. Witches were another story; everyone and their familiar knew he wasn't interested in them, so the occasional blown kiss or winking photo became more like a game, with him as the target of harmless affections not intended to be returned. Playing with boys, on the other hand, was asking for trouble, so Silas tended to keep up a more professional air when talking to them.

Still, the dashing young Ravenclaw drew a fond smile. He reminded Silas of a boy he'd dated in his NEWTS years, all clever eyes and lean build, sharp mind laser-focused on his beloved sports. The radio announcer 'hmm'ed' over the question as he sipped a mug of tea flavored with licorice, propolis and sage.

"We do cover Quidditch, naturally enough. We're on the sponsor list for the Chudley Cannons, you know. They bring us in for commentary on their home games. I did something similar for the Hogwarts matches when I was your age...ah, such fond memories."

The moon on his wrist flashed once as he dabbed his lip. A bit of black flicked its edge as though to scold it for showing off, then went back to twining lazily over his skin like a grasping vine.

"We've also got a regular Sports section in the daily news, though we try do to keep a bit of light on those sports the WWN so carelessly ignores. You know: Swivenhodge, the annual race in Sweden, the occcasional Aingingein run...they're not less deserving of attention, even if they're not the money-maker Quidditch is. There's even some Scottish blokes trying to get in on all that Quodpot fun across the pond. Isn't that fantasic?"

He chuckled again, leaning his elbows on top of his equipment to get a bit closer to the crowd, particularly the Quidditch player who still held his attention. Under him, the machine clicked and buzzed as the pre-recorded advertisement came to an end, switching over to the low croon of an independent singer.

"Interested in sportscasting, I take it? Or just looking for a back-up plan in case you blow out your knee?"

Peyton felt a bit of crimson rise to his cheeks and gave Silas a cheeky smile, "Is it that obvious?" There was no doubt he was a sports fan even to those that didn't know him (for those that did, it was hard enough to get him to stop talking about it) Today was no exception, in fact it was a giant neon sign that was flashing over his head. From the sweat, to the Quidditch gear, to the broom draped over his shoulder. Though he had a better chance of a good reception here at the WWXZ booth than he would anywhere else.

He was slightly aware of some fifth year girls nearby hanging onto Silas' every word in a slight swoon. Peyton himself was enraptured with the current conversation glad that he caught his attention rather than being looked over, "My parents want me to be practical. Which means finding a career I'd be good at that doesn't have anything to do with being a Chaser." Peyton scratched at his temple tousling a bit of his chestnut hair, "I figured if I couldn't play I could report." He glanced down the way, "And I wouldn't be any good at the Profit."

Looking over the equipment for a moment wondering how hard it would be to learn Peyton snapped his attention back to Silas, "Internship! I mean yes, I mean, blast." He took a deep breath untying his tongue, "Yes I am interested in the Internship."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Just a leetle."

Keeping an ear on the boy's story, Silas stretched to retrieve an internship application, the black coils of 'space' coiling on his arms. One of the fifth-year girls squealed, earning a quick flash of teeth before he returned to the boy and his tale as old as journalism.

 "It's good that you're considering your options, especially before an injury benches you. But you should know that talking about sports requires a different skill set than playing them." He passed over the application, offered the player a quill, and returned to his equipment, queuing up the next set of records to take over after the whale songs.

"Sure, you're going to need to know your feints from your fakes and your blunts from your bludgers. You'll have to memorize player histories, analyze team strategies, check the numbers, and all that jazz. But that's the prep work. What's really important is the ability to wrap all that information up in your enthusiasm and turn it into a story, one that's vivid enough for your listeners at home to get the full experience."

He eyed the last record on the deck. The whale songs had startedup with no problem, the cavernous Great Hall giving their low tones a slight echo. That left only a few minutes left until he was back on-air...he moved the headphones from his neck back to his ears and met Peyton's gaze again as the third-eye tattoo widened.

"It's not exactly easy. Buuut, you never know if you can do it until you give it a try, right?" He drew the wand from his hair and flicked it at the tables, which slid apart enough for someone to enter 'the booth' without jostling the equipment. He beckoned for the boy to join him. "Care to take a test run?"

Peyton graciously accepted the application and started to scrawl in his information. He hoped it was legible enough. He never was very good with his penmanship and had often been docked marks in classes where inches upon inches of scroll work was required homework. He tried to keep at least half on eye on Silas as he wrote just to make sure the older man knew he was listening. He was feeling himself get more and more excited at the prospect. Obviously his love was first and foremost for Quidditch but his parents weren't entirely wrong about him needing to be realistic about his chances of going Pro and this would definitely make for an awesome fall back - not to mention give him something to do all summer.

He handed back the application. His eyes went wide both from the look of Silas' third eye opening and from the invitation. He gingerly laid Phoenix against one of the booth's table, as gently as one might place down as pet or a child, and stepped forward. He knew his feints from his fakes and his blunts from his bludgers, he had spent years learning strategy and past months implementing it as Captain of the Ravenclaw team. He also knew the statistics of all his favourite players. Peyton ate, slept and breathed Quidditch. He could do this.

He stepped inside the 'booth' and followed Silas' instructions as they got ready to go on air. He gave the older man a large toothy grin and felt excitement crawl over his skin as he began to speak, "Welcome back loyal WWXZ listeners! This is Phoenix, coming at you live from the Hogwarts Career Fair to give you the low down what's happening here for the Quidditch House Cup."

"This has been one hell of a year for Quidditch fans here at Hogwarts and we have seen some crazy matches. Half Mer Folk using kelp to snatch the snitch, Veela charm causing the players to go wild and all the regular bumps, bruises and broken bones. As it stands right now Slytherin is in the lead with a hefty 780, lead by the sly Gracie Slant. Gryffindor is right behind them with 660 points lead by the always striking Raine Almasy. Ravenclaw is soaring into third with 310 points lead by, well, yours truly, and Hufflepuff rounds it all out with 240 points lead by little miss Angie Lemon."

"Now I know what you're thinking, Gryffindor and Slytherin are shoe-ins for the House cup but have a little faith, loyal listeners, the Claws have one more match for the season this Friday and I'm going to make sure those Lions work their brooms to splinters against my chasers. It's not totally unheard of to score more than 350 pts in one game. In fact back in '89 that's exactly what happened. Now that was a great House cup."

"Come what may the final match for this year's Quidditch House Cup will May 14th, may the best team win."

He signed off and handed the head phones back to Silas looking a little sheepish. He rubbed the back of his neck with the faintest hint of crimson rising to his cheeks, "I don't really know where the name came from, I just kind of went with it."