just call me ishmael
Due to my loss to Black during a very unfortunate billiards game, I was not allowed to choose the venue for our Quality Time sentence. Black decided that an outing of "deep sea fishing" was called for. I suspect he chose that activity because it was certain that I would not enjoy it in the least.
I dressed for the weather, which earned a not so inconsiderable amount of scoffing on Black's behalf. If there is one thing I have learned from venturing out to the sea, it is that the weather is a very fickle thing. It is much better to be safe than sorry. Once again, Black decided that an extreme approach to "less is more" was called for. It would serve him right to develop skin cancer at the rate he's going.
I do not take kindly to being scoffed at, and Black certainly seemed rather pleased that I had never done anything close to scrounging for food, which is how I look at fishing. Whether it is in an aquarium, a pond, a lake, a sea or an ocean. It is the same thing. So after a fair amount of pointing fingers and laughing, Black relented and showed me the very basics. I picked up enough to do tolerably well.
Black then informed me that the Headmaster wanted to use the fruit of our labor for Sunday evening's dinner. From there on in, it became a barely disguised competition. If I do say so myself, I was doing rather well, actually. I had come from behind at seven of his catches to my three well up to being a mere two catches behind.
And, as my luck would have it, that is when disaster struck. It would happen when I caught the biggest something of the day. I knew that I had Black. I knew that if I were to reel this one in, I would win. However, Fate frowned upon me. Instead of reeling in, I was pulled overboard. Headlong overboard. Into the cold sea. The North Sea, mind you. I've never been much into aquatics, so I barely managed to stay afloat. I remember Black gesturing like a buffoon, and having a rope hit the top of my head, however anything more than that is lost to me.
I regained consciousness in the small shelf that could be considered a room to pixies. Once again, I was indebted to a Gryffindor for my life. It's beyond humiliating. And after an awkward conversation, Black informed me that our catches were lost when I was dragged overboard. So we wasted all that time and energy for nothing. What is one to do in this instance?
My answer: eat, drink, and...drink. We made our way to a seaside pub after dusk and argued furiously over various things until we were well soused. I do not enjoy being splinched, so even I knew in that haze of spirits that it would be most irresponsible to attempt to apparate. Black was not much better off. I suggested we stay at the local inn, and again as luck would have it, they only had one room available.
How can anyone be so fussy even when stumbling about in the dark? Argued furiously once again before agreeing to simply share the bed. Black will send me to an early grave. That is, only if Mr. Potter decides to refrain from continuing his habit of one on one dueling with the Dark Lord.
Woke up embarrassingly late and rushed to get back to Hogwarts before lunch was served. If only we had been a bit faster. But no, the entire school was at lunch and saw the both of us walk in looking most rumpled. I blame Black, I really do.
I think I am going to stay to myself for a bit longer. I need to respond to a few owls that I received while I was away. I dread having to speak with Sylvia and Xiomara. It's simply not in their nature to let this one pass. Not that I blame them, of course. I would do the same were I in their position.