The dim glow of candlelight flickered across the wooden walls of the private study room tucked into the farthest corner of the Hogwarts library. It had become the unofficial headquarters for Artemis Lovelace and her friends—a place where essays were written, secret plots were hatched, and, occasionally, ambitious plans took shape.
Magnus Kane slammed his copy of The Daily Prophet onto the table. "I still can't believe Lockhart actually thought he could start a school newspaper. All because Witches Weekly didn't want to publish his column on 'How to Be Effortlessly Dazzling.'"
"The worst part is, he probably thinks the only reason it didn't happen was because Dumbledore denied him a chance to bless the world with his 'literary genius,'" Sol Moonfall said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.
"I bet he'd have called it The Lockhart Gazette or something equally unbearable," Iris Lawrence added dryly, flipping a quill between her fingers.
"The Weekly Wonder of Gilderoy Lockhart," Vivian said, gesturing dramatically.
The room burst into laughter—but Artemis' smile faded just a touch.
"The sad part is," she said, "he wasn't completely wrong."
The others turned to her, curious.
"Hogwarts doesn't have a real student-run newspaper," Artemis continued. "And that's a shame."
Eliza Dawson raised an eyebrow. "Wait—are you saying we should steal his idea?"
Artemis smirked. "I prefer to think of it as poetic justice."
Henry Bell leaned forward eagerly. "Actually, that's brilliant. Lockhart spent all of last year trying to steal credit for other people's work—this is just… balance."
"I don't know," Rosaline Dawson said, adjusting her Braid. "Running a newspaper is serious business. We'd need to gather actual news, not just gossip."
Gwenog Jones nodded. "And if it's going to have Quidditch coverage, I want in. I refuse to let those clowns in the Prophet butcher or neglect our matches any longer."
Artemis leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping against her book. "It could be more than that. Real investigative journalism. Articles on Hogwarts history, interviews with professors, research pieces… we could even cover the wizarding world beyond the castle."
"We could expose things too!" Sol's eyes gleamed mischievously. "Like why the Slytherins always seem to get away with everything."
Vivian grinned. "We'd be revolutionaries."
"We'd be dead," Iris corrected. "Snape would murder us."
"A necessary risk for quality journalism," Sol said solemnly, placing a hand over his heart.
"Alright, alright," Eliza said, straightening up. "Say we do this. What would we even call it?"
Magnus rubbed his chin. "It needs to sound sophisticated. Intellectual."
"The Hogwarts Herald?" Rosaline suggested.
"Too formal," Henry said. "It should be catchy."
"The Common Room Chronicles?" Iris tried.
"Sounds like a terrible romance column," Sol said with mock disgust.
"How about The Wixen Chronicles?" Vivian suggested a mix of the above two names with a twist.
There were nods of approval.
"That's good," Artemis said, jotting it down. "Alright, now—what roles do we take? We'll need editors, writers, and a way to print copies."
"I'll handle sports," Gwenog said immediately.
"I'll cover student affairs," Iris added.
"I could do research-based articles—history, magical discoveries, things like that," Rosaline suggested.
"Sol and I can investigate… mysteries," Magnus said with a grin.
Artemis nodded. "I'll be the editor-in-chief. Eliza, you're good at organizing things. You can help coordinate."
Eliza mock saluted. "Aye, aye, boss."
"Henry, we'll need a printing method," Artemis continued.
Henry smirked. "Oh, I'll find a way."
"Vivian, what about a social column?" Eliza suggested.
Vivian grinned. "Oh, absolutely. Someone has to cover the scandalous secrets of Hogwarts."
"See?" Artemis gestured around the room. "Lockhart could never have pulled this off. We'll be the ones to leave a lasting mark on Hogwarts."
There was a moment of silence as they all exchanged glances. The idea was exciting—not just because it was something new, but because it was theirs. Their way of making an impact.
Then Gwenog raised her goblet of pumpkin juice. "To The Wixen Chronicles!"
They all lifted their glasses. "To The Wixen Chronicles!"
….
The moment the idea of a Hogwarts newspaper was stolen—repurposed—from Gilderoy Lockhart's inflated imagination, Artemis Lovelace and her friends knew they had real work to do. It wasn't just about one-upping Lockhart (though that was a rather satisfying bonus), but about creating something worthwhile—something that would last. And for that, they needed knowledge.
Their first real planning session in the library's private study room was filled with unrestrained enthusiasm and unstructured chaos.
"I propose we name our group The Lovelace Revenge," Sol Moonfall declared, grinning at Artemis.
"I propose you shut up," Artemis deadpanned. "This is about all of us, not just me."
"I was joking," Sol said, not looking the least bit remorseful.
Magnus Kane, who had been flipping through an old copy of The Daily Prophet, raised an eyebrow. "If we want to do this properly, we need to figure out how real newspapers work. This isn't as simple as scribbling notes and making them fly around the castle."
"That's exactly why I'm already ahead of you lot," Vivian Delacroix announced smugly, setting a pristine letter onto the table. "I spoke to my father, and he managed to pull some strings to get me a two-week internship at The Daily Prophet over winter break."
The group exploded in a mix of congratulations and mock outrage.
"Excuse me, but why do you always get the best opportunities?" Eliza Dawson demanded.
"Because I'm brilliant," Vivian replied smoothly.
Rosaline Dawson rolled her eyes. "Alright, then we'll have our own internships. Eliza and I have already sent letters to Witches' Weekly. They're offering short-term positions for students who want to learn about magazine production."
Eliza grinned. "Which, by the way, means we'll have access to their gossip network. We'll know what half of wizarding society is up to before anyone else does."
"Excellent," Gwenog Jones said. "The only problem is that I refuse to write anything unless it involves Quidditch."
"We'll have a sports section," Iris Lawrence assured her. "And speaking of writing—my mum's a journalist. A proper Muggle one. She's already agreed to teach me how proper articles are structured. Turns out, there's more to it than just scribbling something catchy."
Artemis tapped her chin thoughtfully. "My aunt Amelia's published enough books and pamphlets on magical politics and war history. I'll ask her about how publishing works—distribution, editors, printing, and the financials."
Henry Bell, who had been mostly silent, finally spoke up with barely contained excitement. "I have something even better. My dad uses advanced Copying Charms at his law firm to duplicate case files. If we get our own printing system, we won't have to handwrite copies of the paper."
Everyone turned to him in awe.
"You're a genius," Magnus declared.
"I know," Henry said proudly. "I'll have to beg him to show me the exact spells, but I think I can manage."
Magnus, who had been scribbling notes furiously, pushed his parchment forward. "If we want this to last, we also need a business plan. Advertisements, sponsorships, production costs—everything. My father runs an import business, and I've been watching him do balance sheets since I was a kid. We need to be smart about our finances if we don't want to run out of parchment by March."
Gwenog stared at him. "Are you… actually enjoying this?"
"Yes," Magnus replied without shame. "I love numbers."
"Figures." Gwenog groaned.
When the winter break arrived, the group scattered to their various assignments, each immersing themselves in the world of journalism in their own way.
Vivian Delacroix's time at The Daily Prophet was an eye-opener.
"They're not as professional as they claim to be," she reported in a letter back to Artemis. "Half of them are just chasing scandals, and the other half are arguing about ethics while still printing whatever sells. Also, the editor is terrifying. Good news: I now know how to manipulate public interest to get people to read things."
Meanwhile, the Dawson twins infiltrated Witches' Weekly, spending their time analyzing how magazine publishing worked.
"Lesson one," Eliza wrote in her letter. "Aesthetics are everything. If it's not printed on shimmering parchment with elegant layouts, no one cares. Lesson two: never get on the bad side of fashion columnists. They're scarier than Death Eaters."
Iris Lawrence spent hours at her mother's office, learning how Muggle newspapers operated. She sent back diagrams and lists of journalistic ethics, deadlines, and printing techniques. "I think we're actually going to need separate sections—news, opinions, interviews, and entertainment. It can't just be gossip and Quidditch reports."
Artemis, meanwhile, had her own masterclass with Amelia Lovelace, whose expertise in publishing proved invaluable.
"You can't just print whatever you want," Amelia explained as she and Artemis pored over a publishing contract. "You need a proper editor, an approval process, and a way to handle backlash if something controversial is printed."
"Backlash?" Artemis raised an eyebrow.
"Never underestimate the fury of someone who doesn't like how they were written about," Amelia said wisely. "Trust me."
Henry Bell, having successfully worn down his father with relentless pleading, returned from break having mastered advanced Copying Charms.
"This is how we'll print everything," he declared proudly, demonstrating the charms in the study room. "We write one master copy, and then we duplicate it magically. No hand-copying dozens of editions."
Magnus, armed with newfound knowledge from his father's business accounts, presented a financial plan that outlined how they could make the paper self-sustaining.
"We'll start with internal ads—clubs, tutoring services, lost items. Later, we can introduce paid advertisements. And we charge for premium content."
Gwenog snorted. "Premium content? Are we a tabloid or an actual paper?"
"We're a revolution," Sol declared dramatically. "One that Lockhart will forever regret inspiring."
By the time they returned to Hogwarts in January, they had everything in place—team assignments, financial plans, writing schedules, and, most importantly, a printing strategy.
"We need a name for us, something bigger than just a newspaper, which has potential for expansion," Artemis said one evening, staring at their neatly arranged plans.
Vivian smirked. "How about The Society of Wondrous Wixens?"
A pause. Then, unanimous agreement.
"And we can call it WIX when talking amongst ourselves in public so no one knows who is behind this newspaper before we leave Hogwarts." Eliza Exclaimed!
As the group exchanged grins, Sol Moonfall stretched out, smirking. "And to think—this was all Lockhart's idea."
Artemis grinned. "And just like him, we're taking full credit."
Laughter filled the study room as they prepared for their next great adventure—launching Hogwarts' first proper student-run newspaper, leaving Lockhart forever in their dust.
The plan had been ambitious from the start, but as Artemis Lovelace and her friends gathered in their newly assigned office space—a dusty but spacious unused wing of the castle—it began to feel real. The Wixen Chronicles was no longer just an idea stolen from Lockhart; it was on its way to becoming a fully-fledged operation, one that, if run properly, could outlast their time at Hogwarts.
Lady Aurelia Lovelace had been both amused and proud when Artemis had pitched the idea to her. After a lengthy discussion on logistics, legalities, and responsibilities, Aurelia had agreed to be the official owner and primary investor. As minors couldn't legally own businesses, she had arranged a formal agreement with Dumbledore to ensure the newspaper could function within the castle walls and later on outside as well. As far as the Ministry or any other authority was concerned, The Wixen Chronicles was merely an internal student-run initiative overseen by the highly respected and terrifyingly strict Madam Pince.
"If you're going to do this, you must do it properly," Aurelia had warned them. "Run it like a business, not a school project."
Madam Pince was the perfect figurehead for the operation. Dumbledore had assigned her as the faculty supervisor, which meant she had full authority to oversee the newspaper. She, in turn, made it clear that while she was there for supervision, she expected professionalism.
"I will not tolerate sloppy writing, sensationalism, or tabloid-worthy drivel," she had informed them, her sharp eyes scanning the assembled group of young journalists. "This newspaper will uphold the standards of intellectual rigor and integrity. If I find any fabricated reports or misplaced commas, I will personally revoke your access to this wing."
It had been the perfect arrangement. Madam Pince's involvement meant that no one would question the newspaper's legitimacy, and her intimidating presence would deter most attempts to sabotage them—especially from a certain egotistical upperclassman who would never have his name printed in their publication.
The unused wing of the castle was spacious enough to accommodate their growing ambitions. The large hall served as their main newsroom, with desks arranged in a collaborative circle. There were also smaller rooms that they designated as storage, a printing room, and a research office. The dust was quickly dealt with thanks to a bit of elbow grease (and Fenny's enthusiastic cleaning efforts). Once the workspace was ready, the true work began.
With Madam Pince acting as the official face of the operation, Artemis and her friends had their roles set with plans for expansion discussed as needed. They wouldn't be publicly acknowledged as the founders or main staff, instead acting as 'volunteers' under Madam Pince's leadership, ensuring their anonymity.
The next challenge had been figuring out how to run a newspaper from within the castle walls. They had already gathered valuable experience through their internships and lessons over the winter holidays.
After extensive discussion, they finalized their pricing model:
The first two issues would be free to hook readers in.Afterwards, students could buy individual on the spot copies for 9 Knuts each or make an advanced monthly payment of 1 sickle. They Also discussed creating a newspaper vending machine so students can purchase old or new papers later on as well but that was tabled for later on.Paid advertising slots would be available, with priority given to students running their own businesses (such as enchanted quills, custom spellwork, or tutoring services).A special section called The Owl Post would allow students to submit short messages, announcements, and classified ads for a small fee.
The First Edition Timeline
Sunday: The paper would be distributed weekly at breakfast.Monday–Friday: Reporters would gather stories, conduct interviews, and investigate happenings around the castle.Saturday: Final editing, layout design, and magical duplication will be completed in the printing room.Saturday Night: Fenny would take a batch of copies to an offsite location to print additional editions for archival purposes (and for Aurelia's personal library).
As they sat in their newly furnished office, stacks of parchment and ink bottles surrounding them, Artemis looked around at her friends.
"We're really doing this," she said, a small grin forming on her lips.
"We are," Magnus confirmed. "And it's going to be brilliant."
Gwenog Jones cracked her knuckles. "So, when do we start exposing scandals?"
"First, we need stories that are actually fit to print," Artemis reminded her. "We need to gain credibility before we shake things up."
Iris grinned. "And we all know Hogwarts has no shortage of drama."
Henry tapped his quill against his notebook. "We need our first big scoop. Something that will get everyone's attention."
Sol Moonfall smirked. "Oh, I think I know just the thing. But it involves a certain professor and a very, very large cauldron mishap."
Artemis leaned forward, intrigued. "Tell me everything."
The Wixen Chronicles wasn't just a newspaper—it was proof that Hogwarts students could make something that lasted. And if they happened to make Lockhart miserable in the process, well, that was just a bonus.
They were ready. The press was about to roll.