You'll stumble in my footsteps.
I haven't slept for three days - between marking parchment, writing my Animagus lecture and organising my Dracology notes I just haven't had the time - and it's finally starting to show: I poured coffee into the grindylow's tank and wound up with a mouthful of Grindylow Kibble. The result: a rather unpleasant aftertaste and one ex-grindylow.
This evening while en route to dinner I called by Sirius's office to leave him with a draft of my presentation to the Animagus class tomorrow. He was not there but rather away for another session with Professor Snape, which was just was well, I suppose. There's really nothing much we should say to one another.
However when I entered his office to leave the parchment on his desk I discovered that he no longer had a desk, but instead a pile of kindling. In fact most of his furniture seemed to have come by a most violent demise. At first I suspected that perhaps the mutinous house-elves described by young Mr Malfoy had moved on to a new target, but the discovery of gnaw-marks on the leg of a particularly bedraggled footstool suggested that perhaps the damage was caused instead by a rather irate hound.
I'd know his handiwork anywhere.
In the end, I straightened the mess up the best I could and left the draft on his newly-restored desk. I hope it proves to be satisfactory to him.
On a brighter note, I was surprised this morning by Vrbanus - Charlie Weasley's post-owl. He carried not one, but two postcards with him. [The first postcard] was a reply to [the rather silly one I'd sent him from Ireland], full of wonderful information on the mating habits of the Common Welsh Green. Utterly invaluable, Scamander never mentions any of this in that texbook of his. Charlie Weasley is a veritable font of endless knowledge, it seems.
The second postcard:
It seemed to be an afterthought, but a most intriguing one: An invitation to visit the sanctuary of his employ, in Romania. It's very thoughtful of him, though a bit impractical. I expect I cannot spare the time, even at the weekend, which is quite disappointing. I should like to see a real, live dragon for myself. A pity.
I should attempt to sleep, but yet again I am not tired. I believe I will go down to the kitchens, implore upon the house-elves for a raw lamb sandwich and pumpkin juice, and see about Friday's lesson in Fwoopers. Must remember to ask Sprout for the lend of her Mandrake earmuffs.
Also: Need new grindylow.
This evening while en route to dinner I called by Sirius's office to leave him with a draft of my presentation to the Animagus class tomorrow. He was not there but rather away for another session with Professor Snape, which was just was well, I suppose. There's really nothing much we should say to one another.
However when I entered his office to leave the parchment on his desk I discovered that he no longer had a desk, but instead a pile of kindling. In fact most of his furniture seemed to have come by a most violent demise. At first I suspected that perhaps the mutinous house-elves described by young Mr Malfoy had moved on to a new target, but the discovery of gnaw-marks on the leg of a particularly bedraggled footstool suggested that perhaps the damage was caused instead by a rather irate hound.
I'd know his handiwork anywhere.
In the end, I straightened the mess up the best I could and left the draft on his newly-restored desk. I hope it proves to be satisfactory to him.
On a brighter note, I was surprised this morning by Vrbanus - Charlie Weasley's post-owl. He carried not one, but two postcards with him. [The first postcard] was a reply to [the rather silly one I'd sent him from Ireland], full of wonderful information on the mating habits of the Common Welsh Green. Utterly invaluable, Scamander never mentions any of this in that texbook of his. Charlie Weasley is a veritable font of endless knowledge, it seems.
![[The first postcard]](http://users.skynet.be/rainydays/nocturnealley/postcard4.jpg){kind=link}
![[the rather silly one I'd sent him from Ireland]](http://users.skynet.be/rainydays/nocturnealley/guinness.jpg){kind=link}
The second postcard:
It seemed to be an afterthought, but a most intriguing one: An invitation to visit the sanctuary of his employ, in Romania. It's very thoughtful of him, though a bit impractical. I expect I cannot spare the time, even at the weekend, which is quite disappointing. I should like to see a real, live dragon for myself. A pity.
I should attempt to sleep, but yet again I am not tired. I believe I will go down to the kitchens, implore upon the house-elves for a raw lamb sandwich and pumpkin juice, and see about Friday's lesson in Fwoopers. Must remember to ask Sprout for the lend of her Mandrake earmuffs.
Also: Need new grindylow.