The press were incredibly obnoxious people. It wasn't often that Wendy was harassed by them, but when she was, it was usually that they were hard-pressed for a story, and were even more obnoxious.
Skipping quietly into the nearest building as a means of avoiding the group of persistent reporters she'd passed a little while ago, she looked around the room with an attempt to get her bearings straight and realized she was in a library--one that looked vaguely familiar, but she'd never actually had a reason to be in it before.
But Wendy liked to think of herself as an intellectual from time to time and one should always be well-informed on their choice of career, shouldn't they? Besides, Tomas had told her someone won the league when she was sure that they hadn't, and they'd gotten into a heated argument about who was right. She didn't remember half the details, but a book would help, right?
"Hello," she chirped to the nice looking woman at the desk, but could have sworn she'd heard some sort of muffled squeak or whine of some kind. Shaking her head slightly, she smiled at the woman again.
"I'm looking for your Quidditch section--and, er--any periodicals concerning them that you might have detailing League wins over the past fifty years, if that would be at all possible," she told the woman at the counter.
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