Bellatrix, I have a few questions for you, whenever it is convenient.

A most interesting evening.

There are dark rumours in the world these days. One cannot help but hear. It chills the very bones.

I am, of course, talking about Kingsley's accent, and his feminine screeches of despair.

Thank all that's holy the Slytherin common room is deep enough in the ground to be cushioned from such hysterical screaming.

I'm off.

Headmaster, you have my word.

I am thankful that Divination is not a requirement, because I have no desire to dissect my dreams. Nor can I understand wanting to do so. Dreams are the detrious of our waking lives. No more, no less.

I almost wonder why I hadn't thought sooner of spending a day or two in the infirmary, enjoying the peace that comes with an all-white room, hidden from classes and care ( Read more... )

I have spent all day in the library researching an advanced Potions project I am working on outside of class ( Read more... )

There is such screeching and tearing of hair coming from the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor dorms that I give it mere hours before the castle crumbles under the weight of the melodrama.

What this school needs is a relaxing supper. Perhaps canard a l'orange? I do so enjoy a roast duck.

Xiomara, this is quickly becoming ridiculous. Where are you?