"Oi, what you got to be taken all those notes for? You just chased off a prefectly good mark. Er, that's his name, mind you. Mark Mcmumbleson. Right, so whatda want? You're not with the Ministry, is you?" Dung looked alarmed. "I told them I didn't know those plants was dangerous."
Reassured that the reporter was not working for the Ministry, Dung began to relax once more.
"You wanna write about me? I'm jus' a prefectly normal, average wiz'rd, nothing worth writing about... What pictures? How did you get - That's not me. None of those is me, although that one there is a very handsome bloke I'll give you that."
A hearty slap on the back and a barked laugh that ended too soon. "You're ruining my business, mate. Time for you to go on and - What now? Your watch is missing? How odd. Oi, look, pixies!"
The reporter turned back to find Mr. Fletcher had disappeared.