(no subject)
First off, I don't much understand nor do I approve of this detention scheme of potions_master's. This is not an effort on his part to spur Harry into pursusing his studies more diligently or whatever angelic behaviour he expects out of the boy. It's harassment, it's a vendetta, and it's bloody irritating to watch a grown man pick on a boy half his age over a silly grudge and foolish pride.
Get over it, already, Severus.
Sirius, can't you talk some sense into the man? For Harry's sake?
Now then, that I've gotten that out of my system.
I've neglected to mention that while on a recent excursion to London I came across a most interesting object. The shopkeeper (Muggle, as I like to on occasion peruse the oddities those endearing folk have for purchase) explained that it was called a 'punching bag,' and that one could use such an item for hitting repeatedly in an effort to either 'stay in shape,' or 'express aggression.' Intrigued, I brought it back with me and after charming it with a simple Suspension Spell in the center of my tower, I indulged myself in a short session of frantic boxing.
I've kept it up ever since, and I have to say that the results are most impressive. Afraid I may have to pick up a new bag at some point, as I keep knocking the sand out of this one, and even my best Reparo spells aren't keeping it together very well. Don't know my own strength, I suppose. At least, however, I no longer have to struggle when I lift the grindylow's tank.
Not to mention the extremely cathartic nature of - and you'll excuse my crudeness, here - beating the bloody shite out of something.
On a less violent note, I've had a note from Charlie and all is well. He apologised for the delay in correspondence; it seems his owl, Vrbanus, had met a rather unfortunate and untimely demise when it flew within range of a dragon with allergies. A pity, that. I was quite fond of that owl.
However, Charlie's note was brought to me by a most delightful little creature, something his brother Bill had sent him while on holiday in Greece. A small, mechanical owl, with all the charm and cheerful noises of a live one. The beast had no name, said Charlie, and he allowed me to bestow it one, and so in the spirit of things I named it Thetis. He's a very friendly little fellow, if a bit rusty from the dreadful rains. I shall have Mr Filch give him a good polish before sending him on his way, again, with my reply.
I'm delighted to add that Charlie will be visiting Hogwarts again for the Hallowe'en festivities. Am most certainly looking forward to that. Shall have to get to work on my costume soon, and I've promised Sirius I'd help him with his.
Off, to arrange for an Ashwinder demonstration for the fourth-years on Monday, to prepare a lesson plan for Sylvia to follow when she fills in for me during the next full moon, and to see to it that the Augurey stops moaning. It's so dreary, I'm like to fling myself out of a window at any moment, and I do not think Hagrid would appreciate the mess.
Adieu.
Get over it, already, Severus.
Sirius, can't you talk some sense into the man? For Harry's sake?
Now then, that I've gotten that out of my system.
I've neglected to mention that while on a recent excursion to London I came across a most interesting object. The shopkeeper (Muggle, as I like to on occasion peruse the oddities those endearing folk have for purchase) explained that it was called a 'punching bag,' and that one could use such an item for hitting repeatedly in an effort to either 'stay in shape,' or 'express aggression.' Intrigued, I brought it back with me and after charming it with a simple Suspension Spell in the center of my tower, I indulged myself in a short session of frantic boxing.
I've kept it up ever since, and I have to say that the results are most impressive. Afraid I may have to pick up a new bag at some point, as I keep knocking the sand out of this one, and even my best Reparo spells aren't keeping it together very well. Don't know my own strength, I suppose. At least, however, I no longer have to struggle when I lift the grindylow's tank.
Not to mention the extremely cathartic nature of - and you'll excuse my crudeness, here - beating the bloody shite out of something.
On a less violent note, I've had a note from Charlie and all is well. He apologised for the delay in correspondence; it seems his owl, Vrbanus, had met a rather unfortunate and untimely demise when it flew within range of a dragon with allergies. A pity, that. I was quite fond of that owl.
However, Charlie's note was brought to me by a most delightful little creature, something his brother Bill had sent him while on holiday in Greece. A small, mechanical owl, with all the charm and cheerful noises of a live one. The beast had no name, said Charlie, and he allowed me to bestow it one, and so in the spirit of things I named it Thetis. He's a very friendly little fellow, if a bit rusty from the dreadful rains. I shall have Mr Filch give him a good polish before sending him on his way, again, with my reply.
I'm delighted to add that Charlie will be visiting Hogwarts again for the Hallowe'en festivities. Am most certainly looking forward to that. Shall have to get to work on my costume soon, and I've promised Sirius I'd help him with his.
Off, to arrange for an Ashwinder demonstration for the fourth-years on Monday, to prepare a lesson plan for Sylvia to follow when she fills in for me during the next full moon, and to see to it that the Augurey stops moaning. It's so dreary, I'm like to fling myself out of a window at any moment, and I do not think Hagrid would appreciate the mess.
Adieu.