I do believe that I hear the pad-pad-padding of four feet in the hall...
Ah, but it feels good to be back among the living. (And dead, lest I forget the Hogwarts ghosts. Nearly-Headless would never forgive me.)
Confound this flea powder! It serves well to keep the fleas away but it's almost more successful in making me sneeze. Most becoming, a werewolf with bogies.
I should mention a fabulous book Madame Pomfrey lent to me while I was shut away in the Hospital Wing: Wizard: Know Thyself by Hieronymous Psyche. I was a bit wary about reading it at first, seeing as it's one of those frightful self-help books, but crippling ennui has a way of making a man take chances with dubious literature. In the end, it turned into an eye-opening, howl-at-the-moon sort of experience. I now, indeed, Know Myself. Please note the marked change in my personality. I am One with my Inner Self, and all that bollocks.
(And really, I was an absolute snore. Blimey. I could kiss Poppy for the lend of that book. Or perhaps not.)
Sirius's "anger management" sessions with Severus seem to be progressing along . . . as well as can be expected. All I know is that when Sirius is on one of his usual tirades about That Slimey Git, he's lit from within by a fire even I can't claim to have ever ignited. He'd be incomplete without his daily sparring sessions with Severus, and he probably doesn't even realise it. Ah well, I suppose we all need an adversary in our lives: I have that infernal moon, Harry's got Malfoy, and Sirius has Severus.
...
Memo to self: Put in order with Flourish & Blotts for approximately seven hundred copies of Wizard: Know Thyself. Distribute freely.
Drat it all, Sirius is on his way up here, and I've got to catch up marking these essays on dragons from my Ravenclaw sixth-years, not to mention finalise next week's lesson plans. Must invest in a muzzle.
Confound this flea powder! It serves well to keep the fleas away but it's almost more successful in making me sneeze. Most becoming, a werewolf with bogies.
I should mention a fabulous book Madame Pomfrey lent to me while I was shut away in the Hospital Wing: Wizard: Know Thyself by Hieronymous Psyche. I was a bit wary about reading it at first, seeing as it's one of those frightful self-help books, but crippling ennui has a way of making a man take chances with dubious literature. In the end, it turned into an eye-opening, howl-at-the-moon sort of experience. I now, indeed, Know Myself. Please note the marked change in my personality. I am One with my Inner Self, and all that bollocks.
(And really, I was an absolute snore. Blimey. I could kiss Poppy for the lend of that book. Or perhaps not.)
Sirius's "anger management" sessions with Severus seem to be progressing along . . . as well as can be expected. All I know is that when Sirius is on one of his usual tirades about That Slimey Git, he's lit from within by a fire even I can't claim to have ever ignited. He'd be incomplete without his daily sparring sessions with Severus, and he probably doesn't even realise it. Ah well, I suppose we all need an adversary in our lives: I have that infernal moon, Harry's got Malfoy, and Sirius has Severus.
...
Memo to self: Put in order with Flourish & Blotts for approximately seven hundred copies of Wizard: Know Thyself. Distribute freely.
Drat it all, Sirius is on his way up here, and I've got to catch up marking these essays on dragons from my Ravenclaw sixth-years, not to mention finalise next week's lesson plans. Must invest in a muzzle.