Pleasure in the job put perfection in the work
Spent a satisfying evening chasing errant students in various states of undress out of the Astronomy Tower. Really, Professor Sinistra, you might have a care to secure the door. Though, at Hogwarts, that doesn't often keep certain overeager students from trespassing where they oughtn't. I remained in cat-form too long last night; after a certain period, the feline thought-processes render recognition and recall impossible. Pity; no lost House Points to scratch upon my bedpost this morning. I shall have to issue more comprehensive assignments to curb this distressing behaviour. I, like some other Professors, am secure in my conviction that Free Time is counterproductive, and leads only to temptation.
Speaking of, while the majority of Gryffindor House has cleaned up satisfactorily from their Friday detention, my sensitive nose tells me some of the younger students must have secreted their washing well enough that even the House Elves cannot locate it. The stench of fertiliser is overpowering, recalling me to the days of my youth on the farm in the shadow of Ben Wyvis. Children, do place your soiled clothing in the receptacles provided, or you will leave me no choice but to mount an inspection of the entire Tower. I do not intend to permit this continued offence of my olfactory sensibilities. (And I will add here that I would have expected more satisfying Due Diligence from our House Prefect in this regard.)
I must now reclaim my feline form and sniff out Mrs. Norris. Not only could I do with a proper wrestle, setting to rights Gryffindor Tower may require the talents of Mister Filch, whom I have not seen about the castle for some days. I do hope he isn't off somewhere moping. He does tend to turn broody when there aren't enough detentions issued for his liking.
~M. McGonagall
'Nemo me impune lacessit'
Speaking of, while the majority of Gryffindor House has cleaned up satisfactorily from their Friday detention, my sensitive nose tells me some of the younger students must have secreted their washing well enough that even the House Elves cannot locate it. The stench of fertiliser is overpowering, recalling me to the days of my youth on the farm in the shadow of Ben Wyvis. Children, do place your soiled clothing in the receptacles provided, or you will leave me no choice but to mount an inspection of the entire Tower. I do not intend to permit this continued offence of my olfactory sensibilities. (And I will add here that I would have expected more satisfying Due Diligence from our House Prefect in this regard.)
I must now reclaim my feline form and sniff out Mrs. Norris. Not only could I do with a proper wrestle, setting to rights Gryffindor Tower may require the talents of Mister Filch, whom I have not seen about the castle for some days. I do hope he isn't off somewhere moping. He does tend to turn broody when there aren't enough detentions issued for his liking.
~M. McGonagall
'Nemo me impune lacessit'