| lupercus @ 2003-03-08 00:58:00 |
| Current mood: |  exhausted |
| Current music: | "The Parting Glass," traditional |
Goodnight and joy be to you all.
Note to self: Claustrophobic Dark Arts professors do not make good traveling companions. However, when you finally reach your destination they are very agreeable so long as they are frequently fed, watered and walked.
My grandmother's burial service was tasteful and brief, which is very appropriate as she was also tasteful, and brief.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for the wake.
It was the Irish side of the family that determined she would have one, which mainly involved many well-lubricated cousins tottering precariously about the grounds, singing merry little songs in between bouts of drunken sobs over my grandmother's departed state.
Then, Great Uncle Pettifogger brought out his bagpipes, and that's when Sirius and I chose to retire for the evening. Not that sleep came easy, what with the plaintive groans of something approaching "Amazing Grace," but owing more to the sound of a viollently ill Hippogriff, wafted through the halls of Grandmum's manor house.
The burial the following morning was, thankfully, a much more classy affair. Grandmum was vaguely churchgoing, in that she vaguely attended the odd service now and again, and so her local wizarding parish did a fine job of making all the arrangements. No bagpipes, thank Godric, but a nice little hymn from the choir, and then all the candles and flowers were turned into doves that fluttered away. Lovely. I even caught Sirius wiping away a tear, though he claims he's allergic to feathers.
We went back to the house to prepare for the return trip to Hogwarts, when an owl arrived at the window bearing a message. We were being summoned by Grandmum's solicitors, to appear downstairs in the study. Apparently, she had left a will, and we were all of us to hear it being read out. Joy.
It began the usual way, I Dagmar Wryde being of sound mind etc., etc., and I admit that I sort of nodded off, bored and expecting nothing of any of it. I never wanted anything from my grandmother but family, and she gave me as much of that as she could. I figured, however, that my cousins would have seen to it that everything would be divided up between them. After all, what use would a poufy werewolf have with his family's ancestral home, eh?
Then Sirius nudged me, and I awoke to my name being called.
Grandmum left me the house.
Not just the house, but the entire estate. All of it, from the cuckoo clock in the kitchen to the bookshelves in Grandfather's study, to the linens Sirius and I slept on the night before, to the grounds surrounding the Manor, is mine. Also mine is a tidy sum of gold locked up tight at Gringotts. Mine.
Needless to say, I was completely floored, and my cousins were none too pleased (especially Second Cousin Amanuensis, who suddenly knew a lot more hexes than I thought he capable of learning). Once the reading was finished, and we settled things with the solicitor, we beat a hasty retreat back to school (by way of Floo this time, for Sirius's sake). And once back here I was thrown back into lessons, so I haven't had time to really process it all.
A house! Why, I don't even know what to DO with one.
(According to Sirius, the phrase to use here would be: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-HA.)
Comments:
| jadedsirius @ 2003-03-08 01:01 am UTC |
You don't know what to do? Let me make a suggestion, then:
PARTY.
~Sirius
| jadedsirius @ 2003-03-08 01:05 am UTC |
The fun sort, where one drinks a great deal and wakes up the next morning wearing someone else's underwear.
Or, a housewarming party.
~Sirius
| lupercus @ 2003-03-08 01:12 am UTC |
Er.
Housewarming party doesn't sound too bad, I suppose... though the first option has its merits. Like Snape wearing Hooch's knickers, for example.
Come by my rooms tonight. We'll discuss this further.
| jadedsirius @ 2003-03-08 01:14 am UTC |
Do leave Snape's underwear out of it.
He doesn't wear any, anyway.
I'll be over in a bit, then.
PARTY!
~Sirius
| lupercus @ 2003-03-08 01:17 am UTC |
That, love, is what I would call flying one's broom into the realm of too much bloody information.
Just for that, you'd best come bearing chocolates.
And there's no party yet!
| jadedsirius @ 2003-03-08 01:20 am UTC |
Forgive me, Moony. I shall endeavour to make it up to you.
Dark or milk?
I think we could practise anyway. The underwear bit.
~Sirius
| lupercus @ 2003-03-08 01:25 am UTC |
Hmm.
I was thinking perhaps the melty kind.
Door's not locked.