A lovely evening- Mostly
The Lantern Festival this past Saturday was mostly enjoyed by all. Miss Chang took First Place, and deservedly so. Her lantern was quite beautiful, and something of an engineering marvel. Though all of the students did work hard, with a few obvious exceptions. Poor Mister Finch-Fletchley lost his to fire, as did Mister Weasley, though his was hardly missed. The lantern show over the lake and the fireworks afterward were, of course, spectacular.
I received a note in a mooncake that was obviously not intended for me (really, the whole mooncake business was quite illogical, baking a love-note into a cake you aren't at all sure will reach your intended recipient) which read, 'YOU WILL PAY, LONGBOTTOM!' I think I'll just tuck it away should it ever be needed for handwriting analysis. I do rather recognise the penmanship, though it appears as if the author took pains to mask it. I shall have to ponder on it a while longer.
The uncharacteristic lack of vitriol from Sinistra was unsettling- she sat right next to me during the judging, and didn't so much as whisper the first unkind word. Perhaps the poor dear was tired from all of the organising she did for the festival. The jolly mood was shattered, though, when Professor Black and Lucius Malfoy broke out into a scuffle, over Ja. Ah yes, must remember this is a public entry. Nevertheless, they came to blows, and I had to drag Professor Snape away from his drunken rosebush-blasting to break them up. He toddled off to do so, as I took his place in hunting snoggers. Pity, I bagged only a pair of third-year Ravenclaws, hardly worth mentioning. Most of the older students were on good behaviour for the entire evening.
I don't envy Professor Snape the headache he must've been sporting Sunday morning. I do hope my predawn hunting didn't disturb him- there was a Niffler rooting about his door that led me on the most merry chase! I did leave the corpse on his doormat though- the nasty things give me the most awful indigestion. I only hope he was coherent enough to recognise the beast, and to remember Niffler skin boiled in red-wine vinegar makes a lovely hangover remedy.
I really must speak to Professor Sprout about her Hufflepuffs- that MacMillian has got them all het up into paranoia (I *do* wonder if he's been speaking with Sinistra), and that must be nipped in the bud. We all know, I'm sure, the story of the Boy Who Cried Werewolf too many times (and no offence intended, Professor Lupin). It wouldn't do to become lax in our vigilance due to the imaginings of one teenaged boy.
Speaking of Professor Lupin, I do hope his transformation was not too taxing this month. I shall have to send him a tin of chai and a cranberry biscotti.
I received a note in a mooncake that was obviously not intended for me (really, the whole mooncake business was quite illogical, baking a love-note into a cake you aren't at all sure will reach your intended recipient) which read, 'YOU WILL PAY, LONGBOTTOM!' I think I'll just tuck it away should it ever be needed for handwriting analysis. I do rather recognise the penmanship, though it appears as if the author took pains to mask it. I shall have to ponder on it a while longer.
The uncharacteristic lack of vitriol from Sinistra was unsettling- she sat right next to me during the judging, and didn't so much as whisper the first unkind word. Perhaps the poor dear was tired from all of the organising she did for the festival. The jolly mood was shattered, though, when Professor Black and Lucius Malfoy broke out into a scuffle, over Ja. Ah yes, must remember this is a public entry. Nevertheless, they came to blows, and I had to drag Professor Snape away from his drunken rosebush-blasting to break them up. He toddled off to do so, as I took his place in hunting snoggers. Pity, I bagged only a pair of third-year Ravenclaws, hardly worth mentioning. Most of the older students were on good behaviour for the entire evening.
I don't envy Professor Snape the headache he must've been sporting Sunday morning. I do hope my predawn hunting didn't disturb him- there was a Niffler rooting about his door that led me on the most merry chase! I did leave the corpse on his doormat though- the nasty things give me the most awful indigestion. I only hope he was coherent enough to recognise the beast, and to remember Niffler skin boiled in red-wine vinegar makes a lovely hangover remedy.
I really must speak to Professor Sprout about her Hufflepuffs- that MacMillian has got them all het up into paranoia (I *do* wonder if he's been speaking with Sinistra), and that must be nipped in the bud. We all know, I'm sure, the story of the Boy Who Cried Werewolf too many times (and no offence intended, Professor Lupin). It wouldn't do to become lax in our vigilance due to the imaginings of one teenaged boy.
Speaking of Professor Lupin, I do hope his transformation was not too taxing this month. I shall have to send him a tin of chai and a cranberry biscotti.