| potterstinks @ 2003-06-13 18:56:00 |
| Current mood: | enraged |
As Pansy's birthday was this week, Millicent and I decided to bake a cake, since Pansy is deeply interested in baked goods. Of course, things got a bit out of hand, so Millicent thought it best if we simply used the cake as an object of transportation. We did cut eye holes into it, but as we followed Pansy down to breakfast, it seems the cake got spun around. I am certain this was Millicent's fault, as I was a mere pawn sitting on her shoulders and had no choice whatsoever in where we were going. All I could see was cake. According to Millicent, she ran into a wall, the cake twisted, and she could no longer see. It's not our fault Weasley didn't bother to duck out of the way of a large green mass of icing.
I also don't quite see why Pansy was alarmed that we'd put entire fruits in the cake.
I've just been to see Pomfrey and she's taken my crutches away. My knee is relatively healed, though still rather stiff. I've to be at practice shortly, since Millicent has sacrificed her petty differences for the greater good of Slytherin and allowed me to put Miranda Mulligan in as a temporary Beater. It hardly matters, as she's leaving Hogwarts this year and we'll just have to get another Beater next year, but I suppose we'll worry about that when the time comes.
I don't quite see the point in these journals, as no one is going to write down anything honest where everyone can see it and if they do they're a fool who likely doesn't have anything interesting to say so it certainly wouldn't matter. I shall now describe, in detail, the time I defeated a house-elf with my bare hands when I was thirteen.
Picture it if you will. It was a dark and stormy night at Hogwarts. I, a youthful but stunningly mature and handsome thirteen-year-old, was notably surprised after Quidditch practice to find the Slytherin common room password had been changed without notification. Naturally alarmed at the idea of being left in the corridors while Sirius Black was on the loose, I proceeded to look for Professor Snape.
Professor Snape proved roguish, and I was, in all of my youth and sympathy inducing innocence, left for dead in a place far from home, far from the safety of my bed and far from anything resembling fine decor.
'How vexing,' said I, 'that a young lad like myself should be abandoned by the masses, beyond chance of hope. Oh, woe! Alas, but I am strong and my survival instincts, they are plenty.'
I started a small campfire using only my trusty parchment and a Galleon and began looking for one reel of cotton and approximately six pairs of mittens with which to build a tent there in the bitter wilderness of the dungeons corridors, when a strange sound fell upon my gracefully-shaped ears. Curious, I put down the blanket I had been weaving using only my wits and looked about.
There in the corridor stood an odd looking creature; in fact, it was downright grotesque. Its mouth was full of teeth. Its skin was less than glowing with health. Its nose had large holes on either side. Its fingers each had a flat nail at the end of them. It had two feet. It wore . . .
a pillowcase.
It was clearly a brute savage transported from the time before man walked the earth, come years in the future to kill the first person it laid eyes on in revenge of the way its people had been lazy. Foolish reader, it was not. It was, of course, a house-elf.
I shall now give pause for your gasps.
Since my wits were preternaturally gathered already, I handled the situation swimmingly.
'Simple creature,' said I, 'I am but a brilliant, noble, handsome, witty, fetching, brave, superior, intelligent, dashing, debonair, clever, resourceful, reliable, rich, humble boy. If it is work you seek, there is none you shall find here. Begone!'
'Sir,' said the elf. 'You is a brilliant, noble, handsome, witty, fetching, brave, superior, intelligent, dashing, debonair, clever, resourceful, reliable, rich, humble boy. Slanty is seeking a brilliant, noble, handsome, witty, fetching, brave, superior, intelligent, dashing, debonair, clever, resourceful, reliable, rich, humble boy's help, sir, with finding Mr Dumbledore sir. He is pushing Slanty too far, sir.'
The thunder clapped theatrically. I considered, for a moment, whether or not to help this vile creature, as of course I also needed someone to give me the Slytherin password.
'You have taken too long,' said the elf, turning on me. 'I will now kill you and your entire family. Also, I will steal your shoes.'
'But I have done nothing to you!' cried I, the victim.
'I do not care.' The house-elf then proceeded to hit me with my own wand.
'Let us be reasonable!' I protested. 'Surely there is somewhere we can sit and discuss this like rational adults. Anger is no friend of mine.'
But the elf had gone beyond reason. He had gone beyond rational thought. He had, in fact, gone beyond my wand and begun hitting me with convenient rocks that were oddly lying around in the corridor.
'This is most troublesome,' I barely had time to declare mildly, before he grabbed me around the ankles and dragged me off to the kitchens.
It was, of course, at this point that I got my wand back.
'I do not want to hurt anyone,' said I. 'I do not believe in violence.'
The elf cackled villainously. 'Your peaceful state of being is no use to us, foolish mortal. I am the antagonist in this piece and you must defeat me.'
'Very well,' said I. 'I will fight you, if you can answer me these riddles three.'
'Not intelligence!' shrieked the elf. 'You will pay for this, brilliant, noble, handsome, witty, fetching, brave, superior, intelligent, dashing, debonair, clever, resourceful, reliable, rich, humble boy!'
With that, he dashed into the kitchens.
Of course, this is why the house-elves hate me. They've been stalking me ever since, seeking revenge on my quick-thinking cleverness. By now you've likely stopped waiting to snoop into my personal thoughts. Once again, my cleverness wins.
Comments:
| potterstinks @ 2003-06-13 10:17 pm UTC |
Now look here, you scrap of potato. I certainly don't have the time to sit here entertaining your multiple personalities. Oh, and I do, in fact, have email alerts turned on.
Colin Creevey (colin__creevey) replied to your LiveJournal post in which you said:
As Pansy's birthday was this week, Millicent and I decided to bake a cake, since Pansy is deeply interested in baked goods.
Their reply was:
Subject:
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HAHAHA that was Brilliant, Malfoy!!!!
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| petitemillicent @ 2003-06-13 10:19 pm UTC |
People generally should not have birthdays.
If they do, they should keep it to themselves.
I have just decided that.
M. B,
| potterstinks @ 2003-06-13 10:20 pm UTC |
You're just cranky because you only have a birthday every four years.
(parent)| just_harry @ 2003-06-13 10:49 pm UTC |
Just parchment and a Galleon? Not even your wand? That's really impressive! How'd you do that?
| just_harry @ 2003-06-13 11:10 pm UTC |
I guess I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, after getting the hinkypunks and the grindylows to speak to each other again, and after all those sharks, starting a fire probably wasn't hard for you at all.
(parent)| potterstinks @ 2003-06-13 11:13 pm UTC |
Child's play, actually. If you've gone around telling everyone my humble stories of fame, I'll have to stop telling you them. Can't let everyone know about my heroics, of course. I wouldn't want to be idolised.
(parent)| just_harry @ 2003-06-13 11:18 pm UTC |
I wouldn't tell anyone. I know the attention would just make you uncomfortable. I hope it doesn't get too bad now that the house elf story is out, though.
(parent)| potterstinks @ 2003-06-13 11:20 pm UTC |
Oh, that's just a boring little story. I wouldn't tell everyone of my real heroics. I can deal with the followers that may arise from this small tale.
(parent)