Fabled Webs

Troll Omake: Ask the Daily Prophet 1

Added 2025-09-18 23:29:40 +0000 UTC

Ask the Daily Prophet 1

Dear Daily Prophet,

What are the next jackpot EuroMillions lotto numbers?

Feeling lucky,

Broke Muggleborn

Broke Muggleborn,

You know what? Sure, I’m bored so why not?

They are 29-15-91-36-61-87-75-19, with the last two numbers being the lucky stars. They’ll be drawn this coming Friday in Paris.

Do as you will,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

I’m being investigated for fraud! Help!

Feeling unlucky,

Broke Muggleborn

Broke Muggleborn,

Well… yes. What did you think would happen?

If you utilized my numbers while purchasing a ticket, you have indeed committed fraud. A lottery’s worth is in its nature as an occurrence of random chance. Winning via insider trading or other manipulation, including through divination, goes against the spirit of the lottery.

Have you considered that you are not my only audience? That most of Magical Britain, and some mainland European wizards, also read the Daily Prophet? No? Silly me, I assumed you had more than two brain cells to rub together.

You, and one hundred eighty-nine other muggleborns and half-bloods across Britain, Ireland, and France, submitted these exact numbers to the EuroMillions lottery. Naturally, the likelihood of so many people guessing the jackpot combination is so astronomically low that it triggered a massive security investigation of the lottery commission.

Muggles obviously cannot investigate magical means of cheating such as this, but there are muggle authorities who are aware of the magical world, believe it or not. There are also aurors who are happy to lend their assistance.

Do as you will,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Why would you do this to me? What did I do to you? I lost my job! My brother lost his house!

Pissed the fuck off,

Pissed Muggleborn

Pissed Muggleborn,

I did nothing but provide you the answer to your question. Did you think I said “Do as you will,” because I had nothing else to say?

You chose to submit the numbers against all common sense. Your stupidity cost you your job. Your brother prematurely sold his house to buy a bigger one he could not afford. That should have been your moment to reflect. Your misfortune is entirely self-inflicted.

As for why I told you these numbers, that’s because I knew this would trigger an investigation. Though muggle authorities cannot find me, they will uncover several leads to money laundering operations across the continent, potentially helping hundreds of thousands down the line. These sweeps will also advance my own interests in the muggle world, though that’s my business.

Now, is it my fault if I do not save you from your own stupidity? I think not. So long as I do not coerce you towards your own damnation, my conscience remains clear. And let’s be honest, my conscience is the only thing I answer to.

Seriously this time, do as you will,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

My husband doesn't excite me anymore. He's middle management at the ministry. We've never wanted for anything but things have never been particularly "spicy," you know?

Lately, he's been even more distant. He goes to work, comes home, then spends the rest of the evening listening to the wireless. How do I spice up our love life?

Sincerely,

Cold Bed

Cold Bed,

While I have no personal experience with married life, I have witnessed six marriages and was product of a seventh. From expert observation, I'm led to believe that there is one true way to spice up your love life.

Have you considered murder? Sure, it'll work only once, but I can personally guarantee that it'll work like a charm.

This is not legal advice,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

What exactly happened on the night of the Dark Lord's fall?

Curiously yours,

Amateur Historian

Amateur Historian,

Indeed, many things happened on October 31, 1981. Among them are the following:

Millions of children wore funny costumes. Favorites included Dracula, Superman, and Snow White.
Pumpkins were slaughtered en masse as per the expected annual genocide.
Many muggles saw Michael Myers murder a bunch of people for the second time and were largely disappointed with how formulaic it all ended up being. Sure, more gore, but largely the same sequence.
Rob Weller popularized the “wave” in an American football game at the collegiate level. Go Huskies!
Tom Croster claimed to have found the Ark of the Covenant. In previous years, he also claimed to have found Noah’s Ark and the Tower of Babel. Unsurprisingly, they were all pranks by a wizard. Yes, I know who did it. You’re lucky I respect a good joke, but leave the poor muggle alone. Third time’s a bit stale, ain’t it?
Frank Iero, soon-to-be backup vocalist and guitarist of My Chemical Romance, was born. I stood in salute for the man who will go on to shape my edgy, emo youth.

Oh, I’m sorry, did you mean happenings in the Magical Britain? I’m happy to help you with that as well:

Abeforth Dumbledore's goat ate his favorite socks before peeing on his rug. She may be his favorite goat, but he’s certainly not her favorite human.
Augusta Longbottom's head-vulture -thing briefly came alive, witnessed the miserable state of her existence, and promptly died of a heart attack shortly thereafter.
Kreacher lamented the passing of the only man who ever loved him.
I pooped my pants. It was a solid, weighty poop, both refreshing and indicative of my continued good health.

Thanks for asking,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

I can’t find my darling baby. She’s been gone for over two weeks and I don’t know what to do. The aurors won’t help me. You’re all I’ve got left.

Please help,

A Worried Mother

A Worried Mother,

By god, I can’t believe I wasted my time on this bullshit. You made it sound so goddamn tragic that I spent hours looking for a missing child.

Werewolf abduction? Rogue vampire on the loose? Acromantula nest we didn’t know about?

No. No. And fuck no! I didn’t find a missing child because you left out the most important part!

Your “baby” is a crow. Not even a pet crow, just a random, wild crow you’ve been tossing scraps at.

Well, I do have the answer. Your baby is dead. You’re welcome, you stupid, stupid bitch. You are proof that the only way to fuck with a seer is through sheer, mind-boggling stupidity.

Congratulations for getting one over on me,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Dead?

What? How?

I need to know what happened to my baby! I demand you answer me!

Feeling outraged,

A Panicked Mother

A Panicked Mother,

Your mail owl ate it, you stupid, bird-brained bitch. Clearly, you and your owl share a single brain cell and the bird’s been hogging it!

Let me explain something to you, you goddamn idiot:

Owls and crows don’t like each other. Owls have good night vision. Crows do not. Owls will pick them up as free snacks. To crows, owls are dementors, but with more sharp bits.

Because of this, murders of crows will hunt down an owl during the day whenever they get the opportunity. They will ruin nests, kill owlets, and even gang up on bigger owls by the dozens. This is all to protect themselves from nature’s scariest feathered assassins.

Except, wait! There’s this great horned owl who lives in a witch’s house! His nest is unassailable! He can’t get jumped during the day because they can’t get inside, can they?

So what the fuck did you think would happen when you decided to draw the local flock to you? You fattened them up and your owl ate them. Now, the ones that are left were smart enough to move on from the evil bitch that’s been sacrificing them to their version of goddamn Satan.

Your owl loves you,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Where does Violet Potter live?

Sincerely,

An excited fan

An excited fan,

Her private residence will forever remain undisclosed to all. She’s fourteen. She’ll never love you. She most certainly doesn’t want a picture of your pecker, you creepy pedophile.

Your “excitement” is gross, disturbing, and makes me question the absence of laws protecting our youth. Seeing how the aurors cannot fuck you up the ass for indecent exposure that has not happened yet, I’ve sent them a list of your other criminal indiscretions.

Bend over, bitch,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Is… Is my daddy okay? He didn’t show up for my birthday party but he said he would.

I’m really worried. Does… Does he hate me?

Sincerely,

Worried Daughter

Worried Daughter,

Your daddy gets sick sometimes. I know it’s hard, but daddy has a time of the month that he feels very ill. He has to be alone and rest so he can come back to you.

I swear it on everything I am. Your daddy loves you very much. He loves you more than the air he breathes. He would give everything for you to be happy. It’s not his fault he missed your birthday party so please don’t resent him.

He would like to say he’s sorry. He would like to tell you to be happy, and to know that he won’t ever stop thinking of you.

With words not my own,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

I think my boyfriend is cheating on me. He keeps saying he’s got places to be and won’t tell me what he’s up to. I looked through his trunk and I found half-written love poems that he’s never shown me before.

Just the other day, he gave me flowers out of the blue! That means he feels guilty, right?

Thinking about breaking up,

Suspicious Girlfriend

Suspicious Girlfriend,

Okay, first off, don’t look through someone else’s things. I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend. Those are his possessions, not yours.

Second, have you considered that your anniversary is next week and he’s trying to butter you up for the special day? The poems? He’s nervous because he’s not sure you’ll like them. The flowers? He wants to set the mood in advance and keep you guessing.

You have a considerate boyfriend, and your leap of (il)logic is to assume he’s seeing another woman. Think about that. The thing that should be a great source of joy in your life has been nothing but anxiety-inducing for you.

This is your fault. Full stop. You’d be much happier if you stopped seeing shadows where there are none. Sometimes, the romantic gesture is just that, a romantic gesture.

And maybe check your calendar more often. You have your anniversary date written down because you have poor memory. That doesn’t do much good if you don’t look at it, now does it?

Enjoy your anniversary,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

My kneazle is sick, help!

Sincerely,

Cat Lover

Dear Cat Lover,

Your kneazle is pregnant. I am not a qualified vet nor magizoologist. I am not the one you should be talking to.

Seek help elsewhere,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Someone keeps digging up my rosebushes!

Look, I live in Hogsmeade and I have a lovely garden. I’m very proud of it. I have violets, lilies, orchids, petunias, and of course, roses. Some of these flowers aren’t native to Scotland and I’ve spent a lot of time making sure everything is perfect for them. They’re wonderful and I’ve attached pictures.

The problem is, every so often for the past several months, someone’s been digging up my roses. I know it’s not a wild animal because the roses aren’t actually harmed, just taken out of the soil root and stem.

None of them are eaten. None of them are damaged. I can just replant them in the exact same place. It’s driving me insane! How is this happening?

At wit’s end,

Crazy Gardener

Crazy Gardener,

Hahahahaha!

For once, I didn’t need to scry anything. I do know the answer, but only because I accidentally stumbled upon it. Still, it’ll be funnier if I don’t tell you.

Cheers,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Tell me!

Angrily,

Upset Gardener

Upset Gardener,

No.

Still cheerily,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Why not?

Very angrily,

Very Upset Gardener

Very Upset Gardener,

Because it amuses me.

I don’t think you understand the purpose of this column. Solving the problems of Magical Britain is not the point. My amusement is the point.

Still very cheerily,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

I have returned to Magical Britain! And what do I find but a new talent on the cusp of true fame and fortune?

I won’t bother hiding who I am. I am Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five times winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award.

Now, I’ve heard that you’re quite the divination prodigy. I don’t have a particular request, seeing how I myself am rather accomplished in all magics, divination included of course, but please consider this a test. By all means, tell me something interesting.

Yours with a dazzling smile,

Gilderoy Lockhart

Professor Lockhart,

Welcome back to Magical Britain.

Seeing how you have applied for and been accepted as our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I suppose congratulations are in order. I suspect the next school year shall be a truly enlightening experience for all.

I’ll see you in Hogwarts,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

I am a procurer of exotic goods. My usual supplier has run into some trouble and I need a new one. Can you kindly point the way?

Sincerely,

Earnest Businessman

Earnest Businessman,

Nice try. You’re looking for lentifold fabric and nundu vapor, both of which are highly illegal both in and outside Magical Britain. Take this as a warning and don’t ask again.

For fuck’s sake,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

What should I do to find the crumple-horned snorlack?

Sincerely,

Budding Magizoologist

Budding Magizoologist,

I do not know. Truly, I do not.

Unfortunately, the Sight is not an absolute gift. There are certain subjects and creatures which are innately protected against my gaze. I suspect that this is one such creature.

Apologies,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet

My daughter seems very worried about the “Glorious Revolution.” Who is Kelbor-Hal and what is this nonsense about the “weakness of the flesh?” What are these “metal inferi” I’ve been hearing about?

Sincerely,

Concerned Father

Concerned Father,

Oh, dear. I take it that your daughter is in the Hogwarts art club with me.

I’m sorry. I wish I could reassure you. Alas, I cannot lie. Sometimes, I gain glimpses of the future in my dreams and this “Glorious Revolution” was one such vision.

I made a series of paintings, with charcoal and acrylic, depicting my dreams. Kelbor-Hal is the Fabricator General of the Mechanicus. He is a man who sincerely believes in the weakness of flesh. He has replaced much of his body with mechanical counterparts because he prefers the surety of steel.

The “metal inferi” are known as servitors. They are humans, muggles, who have been forcibly implanted with mechanical parts to serve as slave labor. Their internal organs are replaced, giving them greater longevity and stamina. Their brains are given just enough functionality to allow them to perform simple tasks, yet not enough to facilitate rebellion of any kind.

They are aware, yet have no control over their bodies. They are in perpetual agony, yet cannot scream. They are the voiceless masses who fuel the fires of industry in Kelbor-Hal’s ideal world.

And now, Concerned Father, you know as much as I do. Is he a sick, mentally unstable wizard who needs help? Or a dark lord in the making? Is what I saw a glimpse of the far future, or a train that draws nearer each day?

I do not know. All I know is that it is a part of the future, part of the Grand Tapestry woven by Fate. I can only wonder how great his role is for him to show in my dreams so consistently.

With great worry,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

That is exceedingly bleak. I believe I speak for everyone when I say that your gift comes with as many burdens as blessings.

I have no love of muggles, but this is a threat to the very Statute of Secrecy. What can we do to prepare?

Resolutely,

Concerned Father

Concerned Father,

Train. Teach your daughters to fight. More importantly, teach them when to fight. The muggles are not the enemy. Danger comes from within.

Heed my warning, you and all who read this column: There is a day coming when every witch and wizard must choose a side. Defending our way of life, our very world, shall be a duty that must be upheld by all, not just aurors.

With great earnestness,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Which quidditch team will win the British-Irish Quidditch League cup this year?

Best,

Quidditch Fan

Quidditch Fan,

Whichever one I bet money on, obviously.

Oh, I’m sorry, did you want to do the same? Have you considered that if I tell you, in a public forum, that everyone else will do likewise and thus bring the odds down?

New rule: I will not disclose any information which is likely to be used to gamble including quidditch championship results, dueling circuit results, and muggle lottery numbers. For fuck’s sake, what’s it like to be this fucking stupid?

Your brain cells must die lonely deaths, Ludo.

With great pity,

The Daily Prophet

Dear Daily Prophet,

Your mother is a whore and a serial killer. How do you live with yourself?

Fuck you,

Valencia is a Whore

Valencia is a Whore,

I live with myself the same way everyone else does, by acknowledging that I am not my mother and that her actions are her own. You’re hardly the first person to take issue with my mother, and unfortunately not the first to direct that antipathy towards me.

In the end, I’m not her. I just turned fifteen. You’re implying that I should take responsibility for the deaths of others, many of which occurred before I so much as had a wand. I should have done… what, exactly?

For the record, mother is quite nice to me. I won’t pretend she is perfect, or possesses anything resembling conventional maternal instincts, but we actually have a cordial relationship. She does desire my long-term welfare, which is about as much as any son can hope for, I think.

Lastly, I would like to point out that there is no evidence of mother having murdered my stepfathers. Yes, there have been many tragedies surrounding our family. I don’t appreciate you implying my mother is responsible.

With polite indignance,

The Daily Prophet

PS: You can call me Uncle Blaise if you want, Lily.

Dear Daily Prophet,

Sodomize yourself with an erumpet horn, you slimy piece of shit.

Fuck you,

Lily Moon

Dearly beloved niece,

I’d be happy to take you up on that offer of passionate, messy coitus in a few years. I’m sure you’ll grow up to be quite the fetching beauty.

With love (of perhaps more than one kind),

Uncle Blaise

[Editor’s Note: The following correspondence from Ms. Moon could not be printed. We at the Daily Prophet are a professional, family-friendly institution.]

To my dearest readers,

I don’t know what’s funnier, that my dear niece managed to convince Cuffe that we have standards here at the Prophet, or that Cuffe thinks his opinion matters.

Giggling like a loon,

The Daily Prophet

To our dear readers,

I, Barnabas Cuffe, humbly relinquish all control over the “Ask the Daily Prophet” advice column, along with my shares in the Daily Prophet newspaper, to Mr. Blaise Zabini. He can say what he pleases. He can do what he pleases.

Further, I admit that I have zero journalistic integrity and that my dignity, just like my wife, is for sale. I have a small penis and the most satisfaction I get is from watching better men bring my wife the fulfillment I never could.

Sincerely,

Barabas Cuffe

Bitch-in-Chief to The Daily Prophet

To my dearest readers,

Yes, I just took over the paper. Yes, it was through completely legal channels. No, you can’t prove otherwise.

All you need to know is that Cuffe is my bitch now.

With great glee,

The Daily Prophet

Author's Note

Brought to you by EverPeach.

There is a popular advice column called “Dear Abby.” It’s not the only one, lots of papers have them. Basically, you send in random questions and the columnist will respond to their readers.

Seeing how the Daily Prophet is called that, a few of you figured it’d be funny if Blaise, being the prophet, did something similar. This is that what-if omake. It is as canon or non-canon as you want it to be.

Idk if I’ll ever do another one, but feel free to write Blaise letters.

Animal Fact: Many mustelids (weasels, stoats, and badgers) walk with their spines arched when above ground. This is because their long torsos are bad for supporting their body weight when their spines are straight. If they didn’t walk like a coiled spring, it’d be like doing a plank 24/7.