(no subject)
Normally, I am up before the crack of dawn to clear my mind and just feel the earth's natural energy while I go through my daily morning Tai Chi exercises. The Fates were speaking to me in dreams last evening and foretold of Love Lost, Bonds Shattered and Most Untimely Death.
I can only come to the conclusion that they were speaking of Mr. Macmillan. He seems to have a good grasp on the unforeseen as well as being able to feel and see danger as warned by his Inner Eye. I shall have to warn the poor dear.
But the Fates clearly had unfinished business. I am their ambassador here on this mortal plane. They had spoken to me during my morning tea, when I spotted the Grim in my tea leaves. They were speaking to me when I noticed my bonsai wilting. Clearly it was a warning that whatever happened would happen near the forests, or perhaps the woods. Maybe even a thicket.
I went through my Tai Chi without incident, and was in the middle of my Yoga Spinal twist position when I heard the crash. That sound could only be known as the Whomping Willow either consuming its breakfast, or "discouraging" thrill seekers.
I drew my wand (Willow, Unicorn hair, Eight Inches) as I crept near, the sun still below the horizon. My inner-eye was screaming a warning of disaster. Then I saw the cause for the ruckus. My poor colleague Professor Black was trapped beneath a mangled wreck of a motorbike. Had he heeded my warnings (which I gave him as soon as he brought it to the school), he would never have had such a tragedy befall.
Casting a spell, I levitated him to Madam Pomfrey who looked most displeased. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you that Professor Black has a severe concussion, which is why he should not have been allowed to sleep. In addition to his head injury, he as several broken ribs, torn ligaments and a broken leg. Madame Pomfrey is reluctant to give the poor dear any bone mending potions as she cannot ascertain the severity of the concussion and whether it would worsen his condition. As of this writing, the poor man still hasn't regained consciousness.
If only I was able to get to Professor Black sooner. At least poor Harry Potter turned out to be quite all right. As far as I know, Professor Flitwick and Mr. Filch spelled away the wreckage and thus far, no students are aware of what has befallen their poor professor.
It only affirms that the Inner Eye sees all.
I can only come to the conclusion that they were speaking of Mr. Macmillan. He seems to have a good grasp on the unforeseen as well as being able to feel and see danger as warned by his Inner Eye. I shall have to warn the poor dear.
But the Fates clearly had unfinished business. I am their ambassador here on this mortal plane. They had spoken to me during my morning tea, when I spotted the Grim in my tea leaves. They were speaking to me when I noticed my bonsai wilting. Clearly it was a warning that whatever happened would happen near the forests, or perhaps the woods. Maybe even a thicket.
I went through my Tai Chi without incident, and was in the middle of my Yoga Spinal twist position when I heard the crash. That sound could only be known as the Whomping Willow either consuming its breakfast, or "discouraging" thrill seekers.
I drew my wand (Willow, Unicorn hair, Eight Inches) as I crept near, the sun still below the horizon. My inner-eye was screaming a warning of disaster. Then I saw the cause for the ruckus. My poor colleague Professor Black was trapped beneath a mangled wreck of a motorbike. Had he heeded my warnings (which I gave him as soon as he brought it to the school), he would never have had such a tragedy befall.
Casting a spell, I levitated him to Madam Pomfrey who looked most displeased. It is with a heavy heart that I tell you that Professor Black has a severe concussion, which is why he should not have been allowed to sleep. In addition to his head injury, he as several broken ribs, torn ligaments and a broken leg. Madame Pomfrey is reluctant to give the poor dear any bone mending potions as she cannot ascertain the severity of the concussion and whether it would worsen his condition. As of this writing, the poor man still hasn't regained consciousness.
If only I was able to get to Professor Black sooner. At least poor Harry Potter turned out to be quite all right. As far as I know, Professor Flitwick and Mr. Filch spelled away the wreckage and thus far, no students are aware of what has befallen their poor professor.
It only affirms that the Inner Eye sees all.