| potterstinks @ 2003-05-30 09:26:00 |
| Current mood: | enraged |
Mother, Father and I arrived at My Grandmother's estate in Cannes last evening. Half of the servants have already gone, and the other half is being quite sulky and refusing to entertain me. It's unfortunate to miss time away from school, but Mother needs me.
We saw the body last night. I felt it was rather interesting, as I'd never seen a dead body before, aside from a few animals, of course. It's actually lying in one of the parlours out in the middle of the open. Mother's heinous aunt requested that galleons be put over Grandmother's eyes, which of course looks rather alarming. She could have at least waited until the burial so that one would not need to see that each time one enters the parlour to re-examine the body.
I've left Millicent in charge of the Slytherin Quidditch team, which no doubt means that by the time of my return the Quidditch team will have disbanded and dropped out of Hogwarts for a life of sin and wine. I, of course, shall carry on as Seeker solo, living a life of martyrdom and proving to be the most fantastic Seeker the world has seen. Newt Scamander will write the book. Either that or Millicent shall simply kill them all.
We spent most of yesterday outisde during our various travels, and now the tips of my ears and nose are burnt. Of course, this looks terribly ridiculous, though Mother insists it looks fine. I'd just like to know who gave the sun the right to come out and burn me. You'd think someone would do something about this monumental hazard, but no one does a thing. Surely there's a charm or something that can be done. It burnt my flesh.
Father says we'll likely return Sunday, so I'll be taking the train back to Hogwarts on Monday. Do try not to miss me too much.
Comments:
| turpinol @ 2003-05-30 03:49 am UTC |
Sorry to hear about your grandmother, but I don't think anyone's going to take the sun out for you. Just a hunch.
| turpinol @ 2003-05-30 03:53 am UTC |
I'm just saying, the sun is a mass of incandescent gas. It's not your enemy.
I will thank you not to bring up my past embarrassments.
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-30 04:02 am UTC |
I don't care if it's a mass of liquorice-flavoured gas. It's hot.
Oh, all right, then. I won't embarrass you by mentioning the way you cried in Herbology the time that I pointed out that I had no idea who you were.
| turpinol @ 2003-05-30 04:04 am UTC |
By 'embarrassment', I meant pointing out that I used to think you were redeemable.
(parent)| potterstinks @ 2003-05-30 04:07 am UTC |
What did you intend to do? Redeem me for a pack of swizzle sticks and a shoelace at the trade centre?
(parent)| scotchtartan @ 2003-05-30 04:49 am UTC |
Malfoy,
When you have completed your due grieving process I should request approximately 17 minutes of your time to discuss your new Beater.
Professor M McGonagall
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-30 04:55 am UTC |
Professor,
Millicent Bulstrode is temporary captain, so I'm certain the issue can be taken with her.
| scotchtartan @ 2003-05-30 04:59 am UTC |
Malfoy,
Bulstrode's name is not on the receipt.
Professor M McGonagall
| just_harry @ 2003-05-31 11:03 am UTC |
That's what the sunscreen was for, you know. Only you have to use it before you go out in the sun. Since it's already too late, you should use aloe. It makes it not hurt so much.
| potterstinks @ 2003-05-31 06:19 pm UTC |
Well, how was I to know? There was no card that said 'Use in case of Grandmother's death.' Besides, it's old. How was I to know whether or not it had spoilt? My nose could've fallen off.
See you Monday, Potter.