(no subject)
Bloody carpenters and crowns, if I never see Hogsmeade again it will be far too soon. I, of course, had absolutely no desire to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, but then, Pansy and Millicent can be rather violent if given the need. And since Crabbe was off taking care of his father's funeral, I was left defenceless and forced to go (beyond my will, I'll have you know). I still don't see the sodding point in Hogsmeade. As though any respectable wizard still gets excited at the sight of Honeydukes. Please, I stopped that when I was five.
Pansy and Millicent, for some godawful reason, insisted that we take in the Hog's Head. Given the fact that I simply won't partake in something as rudimentary and uncouth as underage drinking, I, of course, put my foot down. Really, what exactly is there to do at a pub? I certainly wasn't going to be taking in the bloody scenery. I mean, honestly, I've seen what fools do when they get knackered; I'm certainly not going to run about throwing myself into any trees.
However, evidently the rest of my House doesn't feel the same way--I would suggest, perhaps, a sour upbringing as the blame for this--and I was left for an afternoon of eating peanuts from a bowl. They weren't even shelled, of course. And the decor of the Hog's Head is simply unfathomable. There's actually a sodding hog's head hanging on the wall! It snorts at you! I suppose they think that's rather comical, and I suppose I would as well, were I a Mudblood from the bayou with the intelligence of a Cockroach Cluster. But let's try and be realistic here.
Needless to say, I abandoned my fans and headed back to the school. With no carriage, mind you! Oh, yes, everyone thinks it's quite clever and fun to walk down to Hogsmeade with friends, but this is the second time I've had to walk back, and this is the second time I've been stuck with sodding blisters because of it. I wouldn't be surprised if my feet blackened and fell off due to all this walking eventually.
I saw the Meddlesome Menagerie on my way out, and of course the Weasel and the Mudblood were positively revolting. If there's not something in the Ministry Regulations about Weasleys breeding publically, I'm definitely going to write to My Father and see what he can have done about it. And they bring Potter along. What, exactly, does that say about Potter and the two of them? These are questions I simply don't want the answer to.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the bloody hospital wing, although Pomfrey seemed rather insistent on the fact that I should be able to walk just fine. More walking, she suggests. Oh, yes, that's certainly what's going to help my abused feet. I can't imagine what trouble I was having; since, after all, evidently I should have made do with what I had and walked on my hands.
I loathe this school.
I believe Crabbe has come back to Hogwarts, after doing whatever it is that you do in such times, and I could have sworn I saw him wearing a violet turban. Perhaps it wasn't Crabbe after all, but turbans have been out of style for years, so I think it's fair to advise any turban-wearers that they really ought to give it up.
Pansy and Millicent, for some godawful reason, insisted that we take in the Hog's Head. Given the fact that I simply won't partake in something as rudimentary and uncouth as underage drinking, I, of course, put my foot down. Really, what exactly is there to do at a pub? I certainly wasn't going to be taking in the bloody scenery. I mean, honestly, I've seen what fools do when they get knackered; I'm certainly not going to run about throwing myself into any trees.
However, evidently the rest of my House doesn't feel the same way--I would suggest, perhaps, a sour upbringing as the blame for this--and I was left for an afternoon of eating peanuts from a bowl. They weren't even shelled, of course. And the decor of the Hog's Head is simply unfathomable. There's actually a sodding hog's head hanging on the wall! It snorts at you! I suppose they think that's rather comical, and I suppose I would as well, were I a Mudblood from the bayou with the intelligence of a Cockroach Cluster. But let's try and be realistic here.
Needless to say, I abandoned my fans and headed back to the school. With no carriage, mind you! Oh, yes, everyone thinks it's quite clever and fun to walk down to Hogsmeade with friends, but this is the second time I've had to walk back, and this is the second time I've been stuck with sodding blisters because of it. I wouldn't be surprised if my feet blackened and fell off due to all this walking eventually.
I saw the Meddlesome Menagerie on my way out, and of course the Weasel and the Mudblood were positively revolting. If there's not something in the Ministry Regulations about Weasleys breeding publically, I'm definitely going to write to My Father and see what he can have done about it. And they bring Potter along. What, exactly, does that say about Potter and the two of them? These are questions I simply don't want the answer to.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in the bloody hospital wing, although Pomfrey seemed rather insistent on the fact that I should be able to walk just fine. More walking, she suggests. Oh, yes, that's certainly what's going to help my abused feet. I can't imagine what trouble I was having; since, after all, evidently I should have made do with what I had and walked on my hands.
I loathe this school.
I believe Crabbe has come back to Hogwarts, after doing whatever it is that you do in such times, and I could have sworn I saw him wearing a violet turban. Perhaps it wasn't Crabbe after all, but turbans have been out of style for years, so I think it's fair to advise any turban-wearers that they really ought to give it up.