(no subject)
I've spent the last few days recuperating, and tragically unable to attend classes. Pomfrey said this was unnecessary, but given the fact that My Mother seemed shell-shocked by the suffering blows I had received, I think it was best that I remained off of my feet until I could be sure nothing was broken that the sodding nurse had missed. And I'm certain Hogwarts doesn't want to see what would happen if My Father discovered that because of shoddy treatment, I'd been walking around with a sprain.
Anyway, I returned to classes today with my usual fashionably late entrance. Of course, unfortunately, we had Potions with the Gryffindors first thing this morning, and they all got into a bit of a fuss when instead of taking points off, Professor Snape asked me how I was feeling. Now, honestly, Gryffindors - maybe you're used to callous treatment from professors because of your stupidity, but I was seriously injured. Naturally, my well-being was checked upon.
Unfortunately, Professor Snape decided to pair the Slytherins with the Gryffindors, and I ended up with the largely present Periwinkle Brown. (In case you missed that, by largely present, I meant fat.) I'd never realised how outstandingly awful she was at Potions. Of course, I knew she had to be, being a Gryffindor, but she practically burst into tears when I told her to add the toadstone.
And if the blubbering cowardice wasn't bad enough there, we had Charms with the Hufflepuffs immediately after. We were attempting to charm grotesquely Muggle chess pieces across a board, and I was paired with that Finch-Fletchley fellow, who kept attempting menacing glares in my direction while pounding his weak little fist into his palm. Then he blew up his king. Ha ha ha. I still don't think having my king take a victory lap around the board was "pushing it."
I fell asleep in Transfiguration, and when I woke up, McGonagall was sitting on my desk in cat-form, staring at me. I really don't think that was necessary. She knows very well that I was put through a great strain this past weekend, but she took five points off of Slytherin and gave me a sodding detention, on top of that! Lord, if the woman's feelings were so hurt, perhaps she should have just sat down and had a good cry instead of taking it out on me. I can hardly be expected to stay awake through that.
I hope My Father will see if he can do something about the Slytherins getting an independent schedule.
I had scheduled the Quidditch pitch this afternoon, but of course, the Gryffindors botched that up as usual. Apparently, Madam Hooch had promised them the pitch, and she stormed in barking about how Gryffindor has a match this weekend, and Slytherin doesn't have one for a good few weeks. Honestly, as though the Gryffindors should even bother practising. They're going to lose no matter what they do.
And to think, I was going to manage flying with these still-fading injuries.
Anyway, I returned to classes today with my usual fashionably late entrance. Of course, unfortunately, we had Potions with the Gryffindors first thing this morning, and they all got into a bit of a fuss when instead of taking points off, Professor Snape asked me how I was feeling. Now, honestly, Gryffindors - maybe you're used to callous treatment from professors because of your stupidity, but I was seriously injured. Naturally, my well-being was checked upon.
Unfortunately, Professor Snape decided to pair the Slytherins with the Gryffindors, and I ended up with the largely present Periwinkle Brown. (In case you missed that, by largely present, I meant fat.) I'd never realised how outstandingly awful she was at Potions. Of course, I knew she had to be, being a Gryffindor, but she practically burst into tears when I told her to add the toadstone.
And if the blubbering cowardice wasn't bad enough there, we had Charms with the Hufflepuffs immediately after. We were attempting to charm grotesquely Muggle chess pieces across a board, and I was paired with that Finch-Fletchley fellow, who kept attempting menacing glares in my direction while pounding his weak little fist into his palm. Then he blew up his king. Ha ha ha. I still don't think having my king take a victory lap around the board was "pushing it."
I fell asleep in Transfiguration, and when I woke up, McGonagall was sitting on my desk in cat-form, staring at me. I really don't think that was necessary. She knows very well that I was put through a great strain this past weekend, but she took five points off of Slytherin and gave me a sodding detention, on top of that! Lord, if the woman's feelings were so hurt, perhaps she should have just sat down and had a good cry instead of taking it out on me. I can hardly be expected to stay awake through that.
I hope My Father will see if he can do something about the Slytherins getting an independent schedule.
I had scheduled the Quidditch pitch this afternoon, but of course, the Gryffindors botched that up as usual. Apparently, Madam Hooch had promised them the pitch, and she stormed in barking about how Gryffindor has a match this weekend, and Slytherin doesn't have one for a good few weeks. Honestly, as though the Gryffindors should even bother practising. They're going to lose no matter what they do.
And to think, I was going to manage flying with these still-fading injuries.