(no subject)
I see Professor Black has recuperated from his recent spill into alcoholism. This is almost as hilarious as Hagrid getting drunk and setting fire to that shack he calls a home every month. Actually, I think it's probably funnier. Of course, the half-giant never set fire to himself, so Black's little drunken failure of a motorcycle ride will have to take place for funniest alcoholic spill. Ha ha! Get it? 'Spill'?
While I was out making my rounds last night--since, of course, Prefects have such responsibilities--who should I see roaming the corridors, but Potter the Prat. He wasn't even trying to hide, the stupid sod. Evidently, he must think going out after curfew is a privilege for him. Of course, I had to take points from Gryffindor, and he just stood there and didn't say a bloody word. Perhaps he's trying to practise that non-violent resistance that Ghandi fellow used to do. I'd bet he was a Gryffindor, too. Anyway, he's just lucky I didn't cancel his Hogsmeade weekend. Are you trying to give me the cold shoulder now, Potter? Too pathetic to even argue, I'm sure. Or maybe he was just too busy sobbing about his parents that he couldn't say a word. After all, isn't that what Rita Skeeter said a few years ago? Potter cries over them every night. How touching, Potter.
Two bloody hours I was stuck in History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs this morning. Honestly, Hogwarts just doesn't take into consideration the fact that most of us deserving students had tutors as a child. As though I wasn't already taught all of this nonsense. And to have to take it with Hufflepuffs is just insulting! I used the opportunity to catch up on my beauty sleep, only to wake up an hour later to find that Finch-Fletchley and Macmillan were staring at me, again. Nearly every week they do this in History of Magic. And in Charms yesterday I caught them trying to levitate their quills into my ears. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, they're waiting for me to do, but I've had enough. So, this morning I decided to practise a curse on Macmillan so everything he saw was upside down. Ha ha ha. A handy little charm Father taught me. Of course, the lump fell to the ground right away, and no one even noticed but Finch-Fletchley. Why? They were all asleep. Even Professor Binns had drifted off. I didn't even know ghosts could sleep.
Macmillan started screaming something about his equilibrium, but at that point I was already half asleep. Entertainment is so short-lived in this school.
Of course, at lunch, the entire Hufflepuff table was making crosses at me with their fingers. Mob mentality never ceases to amuse me.
Then, in Potions this afternoon, my shrivelfig was chopped up unevenly, which is clearly Potter's fault. He was working with Millicent on the other side of the room, but who else's fault would it be? Certainly not mine. So my Pepper-Up Potion turned blue instead of grey, which is, again, Potter's fault. I haven't figured out precisely how, but I'm SURE it is.
While I was out making my rounds last night--since, of course, Prefects have such responsibilities--who should I see roaming the corridors, but Potter the Prat. He wasn't even trying to hide, the stupid sod. Evidently, he must think going out after curfew is a privilege for him. Of course, I had to take points from Gryffindor, and he just stood there and didn't say a bloody word. Perhaps he's trying to practise that non-violent resistance that Ghandi fellow used to do. I'd bet he was a Gryffindor, too. Anyway, he's just lucky I didn't cancel his Hogsmeade weekend. Are you trying to give me the cold shoulder now, Potter? Too pathetic to even argue, I'm sure. Or maybe he was just too busy sobbing about his parents that he couldn't say a word. After all, isn't that what Rita Skeeter said a few years ago? Potter cries over them every night. How touching, Potter.
Two bloody hours I was stuck in History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs this morning. Honestly, Hogwarts just doesn't take into consideration the fact that most of us deserving students had tutors as a child. As though I wasn't already taught all of this nonsense. And to have to take it with Hufflepuffs is just insulting! I used the opportunity to catch up on my beauty sleep, only to wake up an hour later to find that Finch-Fletchley and Macmillan were staring at me, again. Nearly every week they do this in History of Magic. And in Charms yesterday I caught them trying to levitate their quills into my ears. I'm not sure what it is, exactly, they're waiting for me to do, but I've had enough. So, this morning I decided to practise a curse on Macmillan so everything he saw was upside down. Ha ha ha. A handy little charm Father taught me. Of course, the lump fell to the ground right away, and no one even noticed but Finch-Fletchley. Why? They were all asleep. Even Professor Binns had drifted off. I didn't even know ghosts could sleep.
Macmillan started screaming something about his equilibrium, but at that point I was already half asleep. Entertainment is so short-lived in this school.
Of course, at lunch, the entire Hufflepuff table was making crosses at me with their fingers. Mob mentality never ceases to amuse me.
Then, in Potions this afternoon, my shrivelfig was chopped up unevenly, which is clearly Potter's fault. He was working with Millicent on the other side of the room, but who else's fault would it be? Certainly not mine. So my Pepper-Up Potion turned blue instead of grey, which is, again, Potter's fault. I haven't figured out precisely how, but I'm SURE it is.