Hello.

The plasters came off. I look much more gallant.

After hours of looking at patterns and swatches (yes, swatches, stop laughing, Sirius) Molly and I came up with something deceptively simple for the entire place. And then we blew dozens of holes in the roof. It was actually rather theraputic--except for the bit where we had to explain to some neighbors coming back from shopping for cloth why on ( Read more... )

I'll just be needing that sweeping charm, Molly.

...And plaster.

...And to dissuade the neighbors from thinking there was some sort of minor earthquake.

('Small amount' my arse, Mundungus.)

This place is just disgusting.

Did you find the chocolate?

Harry, will you meet me by the Defence Against the Dark Arts room? I've a bit of work I'd like you to help with.

Are you feeling any better after our chat last night?

By which I mean more than simply catagorizing music (although I am astounded I haven't been sacked yet). I'm treating my coworkers as an interesting cultural study in the effects of long-term isolation and brainwashing at this point; results so far are fairly bleak, all things considered ( Read more... )

 

I'm out of books and my bandages itch and the Nurses From Hell keep coming round and fussing with the sheets in my lap.

Also, there is an odd twitch in my leg; perhaps I am getting a clot and will soon die. I am not as upset as I should be, as it will be sweet reprieve.