The Last Station

Well, Hogsmeade, I have some news. With some very knowledgeable suggestions from the beautiful and intelligent Morag MacDougal-Levski, her architectural restoration firm, and in accordance with the Ministry of Magic...I, Blaise Zabini, now officially own The Shrieking Shack and its surrounding land. Now, before anyone gets their knickers in a bunch, just listen.

The Shrieking Shack is now, officially, a historical landmark as approved by the Ministry. However, with appropriate restoration and spellwork, it will be able to be repurposed for commercial use as long as the original structure is kept in its entirety. There will be some cosmetic charms done so it doesn't look like a complete shithole but otherwise, everyone wins. I get my property and everyone who wanted to keep the Shack can still walk by it every single minute of every single day if they so choose. Just know you'll see me outside of it, swimming in galleons and laughing.

Originally I thought to make it an art gallery. I have also heard suggestions for a wine bar, a spa, a massage parlor, and a night club. There was also some scuttlebutt about a polyjuice brothel but, alas, that would violate the terms of the historical preservation of the building. Also, it being illegal and all, there is that little chestnut. What other establishments would you like to see in Hogsmeade, residents?

Warded to Lisa something-or-other
Didn't you want to photograph the Shack or whatever? Or will that not be necessary since it isn't going anywhere?

Normally, I treat my body like a temple. Organic foods, watching my caloric intake, daily excercise, minimal alcohol. Okay, the first three mostly but that isn't the point. Emboldened by my pickup team's win this past Sunday, I thought I'd indulge myself in one of Foxglove's confectionaries. Purchased a half dozen cupcakes to be kept in my office at The Hogsmeade Herald, because if you leave anything out in the breakroom, the employees tear into it like vultures.

Little did I know the cupcakes were a bit too pickle-flavored for my taste. Though pickle juice has been lauded for its hydration benfits in professional sports, I felt these deceptive little devils could be put to better use. So I left the remainder of the treats in the breakroom, WITH my name on it and watched with perverse pleasure as my coworkers learned never to steal food from Blaise Zabini again.

There's something so cathartic about being on a broom again. There's nothing quite like narrowly dodging a bludger by an inch, feeling the wind whip around you as you race toward the hoop, and unmercifully crushing your friends and neighbors in a friendly game of Quidditch. Does wonders for one's mood after an otherwise goddamn awful less than perfect week. Sometimes, it's nice to get a win.

Warded to the Qualitea Team
I think we all know I'm not the type to dole out compliments but I have to hand it to you all on a well earned victory. Marietta, who would've thought you could have edged out Potter? Well done, indeed. McLaggen, hardly anyone will even remember you got beat out by the lesser Weasley for your house team, you did so well. But everyone, really...I find myself quite impressed with the lot of you and, I assure you, I have discerning taste. Good thing we got the uniforms we did; maroon and black will do wonders in hiding the blood of our enemies as we crush the competition. I have full confidence we'll pull out the "W" next week. Keep it tight, Quintapeds!

Okay, I think it's time to clear up some undue rumors surrounding my little construction project in the village. Learning the truth might sway you one way or the other concerning the demolition and, if anything, Blaise Zabini is truthful (for the most part anyhow).

1) My new business venture is not a sex dungeon. Being a Slytherin, I lived in a dungeon for seven years and I can tell you it is not conducive to sex. There's the cold, and the moisture, and the mildew. My God, all the mildew.

2) It is not a daycare. A daycare, really? Children are small, germ-filled poop machines (Isabel, I'm sure your perfect offspring will do none of these wretched things). They're small and unnatural beings and I have no business with them. Away with you, tiny humans.

3) It is not a polyjuice brothel. While a lucrative and inventive market, it's not quite the cultural renaissance I had in mind for Hogsmeade. Maybe next year.

It's going to be an art gallery with an attached wine bar (the later idea being a contribution from a silent partner, who is both lovely and wise). So if you like paintings and booze, say yes to Shrieking Shack demolition. You'll be glad you did.

Warded to Pansy
Are you going to Draco and Theodore's? I might be able to stand it if you're there.

It's not that I'm opposed to Valentine's Day as a rule, per say. I think it's a fine trick for the people who are so unattractive and dull as to not to get laid the other 364 days out of the year to finally get a bit of the slap and tickle. Some of you pathetic weirdos might even get to have sex and for that, I salute you. I also like that it boosts commercialism and betters the local economy.

But, for the love of all that is good and right with this world, whoever dumped about 7 pounds of glitter on my desk and covered the walls in my office at The Hogsmeade Herald with cheap red crepe paper and pink construction paper hearts, be on your guard, because I will find you. I will make sure you are fired. Then, a few weeks down the line, I will make sure you are re-hired again to get your hopes up. Then, right after you've gained back what little pride you possess, I will have you fired again, crushing all your confidence as a productive member of society, causing you to spiral into a deep well of loathing and worthlessness. Or, at the very least, you'll get a very thorough tongue lashing about the pitfalls of gauchness and bad taste. And not the good kind of tongue lashing...perverts.

Warded to Pansy Parkinson
Are we friends again yet? I find the silent treatment so dreadfully dull. I'll let you come over and yell at me if it would move this along.

Warded to Hermione Granger
Don't for one second think all the paperwork your little protest is causing me to slog through is going to put me off my plan. I happen to enjoy paperwork so, if it makes you feel better, keep it coming. It only fuels my determination.

Warded to Draco Malfoy
So, I've been in town for almost a month and heard nary a peep from you? Has wedded bliss been keeping you otherwise occupied?

My new flat is disgusting. I'm embarrassed to bring my interior designer here let alone Mother. It has pine cabinetry. Pine. Pine has no place in my flat. It's the wood of poor people and outhouses. Don't even get me started on the smell. If I wanted to smell burnt hair 24/7 I'd just cut out the middle man and set myself on fire.

On the professional side of things, all reporters for The Hogsmeade Herald should take note I've upped all deadlines for regular columns by an hour. This way, the charms can be added and sent to the printers with enough time to spare and no one has to be running around like a hippogriff with its head cut off come publishing time. It's called common sense.

Also, I hope no one is terribly attached to "The Shrieking Shack". If all goes according to plan, I'll have the monstrosity razed in a month, new construction started in two. Won't be quite so haunted then, I'd imagine. You're welcome.