| potterstinks @ 2003-05-08 07:22:00 |
| Current mood: | enraged |
How extraordinarily considerate of the entirety of Hogwarts to not bother noticing the fact that I have not spoken a word in two days. A beastly seventh year Gryffindor put a hex on my oesophagus and I can't speak at all. Each time I try, my throat swells and burns and my glands become sore. Finally I went to see Nurse Feratu yesterday afternoon and she pretended she had no idea what I was trying to tell her. She said she couldn't read sign language. Of course, that theory would pan out, if not for the fact that I WAS WRITING IT ON A PIECE OF PARCHMENT. It's nice to know that in times of dire trouble the staff of Hogwarts will always come to a student's rescue.
For instance, I've spent the last two weeks being hexed, cursed and thumped in the corridors, and what sort of help did the great Dumbledore offer me? A raincloud. I was sent to Dumbledore to see about my 'troubles', and he gave me a sodding raincloud. How quaint. I had a day in hospital due to a fractured collarbone which I mysteriously acquired during Quidditch practice after being hit by a Bludger, which is odd considering who the only Beater on the Slythern team is. Someone threatened to remove my kneecaps. My ears were turned to tomatoes for about thirty seconds before I switched them back, my toes were rearranged so my balance was thrown off, my eyes were turned to brown (which took me nearly a day to get rid of) and someone hexed me with split ends. Dumbledore gives me a raincloud. I've caught a cold. Conveniently enough, each time it rained, the rain only fell on me. It didn't even hit the ground. The only silver lining to this particular cloud was the fact that I nearly burnt Weasley to a crisp with the lightning. Of course, then he realised he could turn it around on me and I spent several days nursing burnt shoulders. I tried to conjure up an umbrella, but it levitated over the raincloud so that--no need to fear--the raincloud itself was protected from any oncoming storms from the actual sky.
I suppose, however, since I cannot speak I should use this forum to start at the beginning. The Saturday before last I was sent to The Manor to have a meeting with My Father and Mother, to discuss the fact that I am no longer a Prefect. This was shortly after Crabbe 'gave me a pounding', which was comprised solely of Crabbe punching me squarely in the centre of the back for losing all of Slytherin's points. In any case, I arrived at the Manor and had a chat with My Parents. Father has decided that it would be for the best if I looked for employment to take the place of the responsibility of being a Prefect.
I decided to leave the Manor early, and took my broom to avoid suspect. In truth, I spent all of Saturday afternoon, Sunday and Monday morning in the theatre we have on the grounds. Halfbloods and Mudbloods perform plays there regularly, though there's rarely an audience. I find the whole thing terribly dull, but it's quite fun to go in with vegetables and throw them at the actors. However, none were there, so I ended up spending the entirety of the weekend alone in a theatre with a head of lettuce. No one even bothered to look for me. I could have been lying in a gutter and no one bothered to notice until everyone else was rounded up. It wasn't until Monday that anyone noticed I was gone, and by that time I decided to go into London. Of course, it wasn't easy. I had to sneak back into the Manor and take the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, and of course I was absolutely filthy. I walked around for nearly an hour before I finally hailed the Knight Bus. My feet were sore.
A fat little woman named Martha was more than happy to take my application for Minister of Magic. She also took the head of lettuce off of my hands, which was starting to get a bit soft. Of course, then Arthur Weasley bumbled in and informed her that I was no longer a Prefect, so my application was rejected. As if there's a better choice. I've only got another year at Hogwarts, and besides, isn't it best to start off young?
The head Weasley took me back to Hogwarts, and I ended up spending the whole evening holed up in Pansy's dormitory because My Mother was outside in the dungeons screaming her head off. I don't know why she was screaming, considering that evidently it didn't occur to her to wonder where I was until Vector posted about it. Oddly I don't have much to say about that particular matter.
As it turns out, My Father had a duel with Lupin, in which he came out swimmingly. Of course, I only heard about this through word of mouth, as I've not had the time nor interest to check these wretched little journals as of late. Pansy's gone on a bake fest and hasn't had the time to keep me updated as regularly on the gossip at Hogwarts, and from underneath the sound of thunder and rain, it's oddly difficult to hear what's going on. So not only am I mute, I'm also virtually deaf. What a kind and considerate school.
I've had detention every day with Vector, not for the first time. In fact, I previously had an entire week's worth of detention with her in which I was almost slaughtered by a maniacal book. However, I suspect she has somehow slowed time, as these detentions appear to last approximately eight years each. It is no small wonder that I've managed to maintain my youthful glow in the old age I've surely wandered into from all the time spent in detention.
Having missed Sunday's, I was directed to the Muggle Studies room on Monday, in which I had to arrange, chronologically, all sorts of twisted devices like air freshener (which apparently Muggles keep due to the fact that their own kind smells), a 'Mars bar' (which, quite expectedly, is not actually from Mars), a pair of dice which were unnecessarily fuzzy, something called a leader's hoasen and, unforgettably, several different kinds of food that had names that ended in 'mite.'
On Tuesday I was given an hour to feed all of the animals at Hogwarts, which I could only assume included Weasley, who tried to shove a potato down my throat when I attempted to lay out a trough for him.
Wednesday was spent cleaning the dishes of all and sundry at Hogwarts, and I suspect the elves were quite displeased to find me in their presence as they were unable to eat the leftover crusts from dinner. I spotted one of them trying to lick gravy off of a plate, at which point I decided I would not be participating in this activity. I did, however, spend the full three hours necessary, sitting in front of the fireplace and listening to a dreadful little elf named Winky relive her glory days. I've learnt more than I ever wanted to know about just how much butterbeer an elf can drink before it becomes a drunken slob. As if it weren't bad enough to spend time with house-elves, drunk house-elves on top of that are hardly my idea of a fine time.
Thursday's detention was quite interesting.
THURSDAY: You will be given a rowboat which you will take out onto the lake, where you will take the exact measurements of its depth for each of twenty-five primary sounding points on the terrain map you will have with you. You may use only a pair of oars and a magical tape measure, but you will locate and cover each of the twenty-five points, and record the depth varations exactly. You will have two hours.
Comments:
| petitemillicent @ 2003-05-08 03:30 am UTC |
I am certain the school at large can now sleep better now that we know exactly what you did for the whole week.
I apologise in advance if I run you over purely by accident within the next hour.
Also, if you find most of your belongings flattened, you know why.
M. B.
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-08 03:34 am UTC |
Oh, why is that, then? Because I overheard you talking about Boot's 'bologna pony'?
(parent)| petitemillicent @ 2003-05-08 03:39 am UTC |
It is growing.
What have you done.
I cannot drive.
Undo it.
M. B.
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-08 03:41 am UTC |
It was supposed to be a raincloud. How was I supposed to know what you were feeling?
(parent)| petitemillicent @ 2003-05-08 03:44 am UTC Re: |
My mood is nowhere near "growing army tank".
M. B.
| purestblood @ 2003-05-08 12:38 pm UTC |
Draco,
I am sorry to hear of your difficulties. I am sending you new robes, to replace the ones ruined in London. Keep your chin up. You are a Malfoy, and thus far above anyone else, especiall Professor Vector.
If you need a mediwizard to see to your throat, do let me know. I can have a specialist come in.
Your Father
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-08 07:04 pm UTC |
Father,
Of course I'm a Malfoy. It's not something I'll soon forget, as no one else should, either. Rest assured that I will endure.
Your protege,
Draco