|
[02 Oct 1997|02:05pm] |
|
They kicked me out!! My own house threw me out of the common room and wouldn't let me back in!!! They said it was for my own good I had to hide down in the dungeons all during breakfast and lunch but Bulstrode found me anyway and it was HORRIBLE and I hate you ALL.
|
|
|
[29 Sep 1997|01:36pm] |
|
Could be worse, you know. Could be the Weird Sisters.
|
|
|
[05 Sep 1997|03:16pm] |
I didn't see Professor Fletcher at the feast and I'd heard people going on about him being gone but I thought they might be full of it, since it wouldn't be the first time he'd missed a class. But alright, fine, whatever, he's gone, and you can shut right up about how he was booted out for stealing because I don't believe it for a second.
What I don't get is why Snape (SNAPE!!!) was in Professor Fletcher's classroom today, with his horrible shiny head glinting in the dark (there was no light to glint off of his head! why was it glinting! it had no reason to glint!!). It's temporary, right? I mean until they find someone else or until Professor Fletcher comes back or hey, Professor Lupin! I mean he is a werewolf and everything but personally I think Snape is an awful lot more dangerous than some werewolf! We should protest! The girls in K.N.I.C.K.E.R.S. or whatever they're calling themselves campaigned for equal rights and look Ernie's got himself a badge saying he's a girl. So we can campaign to reinstate the werewolf and Snape can go back to glinting in the dungeons and I won't have to write nine roles of parchment on carnivorous, demonic beasts by next week. Maybe someone else should protest because I still ta
This is bollocks. Harry, when are we going to dance?
|
|
|
[10 Aug 1997|01:01pm] |
Mum and I got back a little over a week ago, but things've still been too busy to sit down and write properly, plus I don't think travel (or being transfigured into a cat come to think) really agreed with my natter, it hasn't even been nipping at my heels for neglecting it, just sleeping in the middle of my pillow for days on end. At least, I think it was sleeping. Whatever it was doing, the sound it was making while it was doing it sounded an awful lot like snoring.
I took my apparition exam in London the other day. I kept splinching various bits of myself in the practice courses I took in Tibet and Africa but I got down to only a toenail in time for the exam, and I don't think I left anything behind for the exam itself. But if I did, the instructor didn't notice, and I wasn't about to point it out to him.
Things have been quiet round here, but I reckon that's to be expected. A bit more post would be nice though.
Oh, and happy birthday Justin. How's France? Snooty and filled with cheese and frogs I suspect. Sorry I couldn't come along, but if you're not too sore about it, I could try my hand at cross-continental apparition and pop in (pun not intended) for some cake. Assuming there is or will be cake.
|
|
|
[30 Jul 1997|07:50am] |
C an an yo ne read th is ? I just heard what hap pene d from TOby Swe eney. He' s here at the mona ster y we' re staying in, which is b eyond uncan n y if you as k me but the re's not m uch time to wonde r about that . Sween ey's taking m e down to the ma rket to use a t ele phone and my natter won 't stop squir mi ng . I tr ansfig ured i t into a Cat fo r all the m ug gle intera ction, and I'm bolloc ks at transf igur ation so it still had pa rchment for its stoma ch an d I co uld see what everyo ne w as wr iting the re but Swe ene y fI xed it up to look like a r eal c at so I'm scri bb ling on it s stoma ch n ow and I can 't real ly see what I'm writ in g but her e's to h opin g this s ti ll sh ows up .
Sweeney 's here no w , I can s ee his lI ght b ulb he ad Out of the corner of my e y e it d oesn 't help that he 's shave d off alL hi s h air . I cut m ine, too. Hannah w as i n Afr ica . we saw her on the bo at, Erni e, she se nds h er regard s an d w ants to talk to Su sa n and Amanda abO ut t heir women's rig hts thing. Tha t's a ll R eal ly. We' re g oin g down t o the mar ke t now so i f anyone who knows t hey can exp ect a call from me ( and w hose num ber i have ) sh ould ge t off o f the phone, b e cause the s econd time I call it 'll be colleC t.
|
|
|
[23 Jun 1997|08:58pm] |
Mum and I are waiting for the bus home now. She said she was going to bring Helga with her, but they've changed drivers on our bus route and the new bloke won't let her hide Helga under her seat. She thinks the woman at the back with all the shopping bags ratted her out. We think she may have had a traumatic dog-related experience as a child and is taking it out on Helga.
Mum was impressed with the send-off the first years gave Seamus Finnigan. Who knew marching patterns could be so complicated?
She tells me she bought chairs and a cot for the flat shortly after winter hols but had to sell them again for our trip. I don't know if I should mourn the loss, as I was never personally acquainted with the furniture.
I think I'm babbling. Really long train rides seem to have that effect. I should probably put my natter away anyway, in case anyone wandering by notices its purring. Or already has, for that matter. But I suppose anyone who has cause to be wandering about King's Cross at nine in the evening on a Monday isn't really worth worrying all that much about.
|
|
|
[21 Jun 1997|01:02pm] |
 
 
Wayne: when'd you have in mind for the week at your house?
|
|
|
[13 Jun 1997|01:02pm] |
|
Oh belt up, all of you. He probably never left to begin with and definitely not to live with Tibetan merepeople or whatever it is people are saying now. Has anyone even bothered to check you know which room?
|
|
|
[07 Jun 1997|11:50am] |
Nothing like the last couple days before exams to bring out the crazy in Hogwarts. Scott even went so far as to speak today. Mind, it was just to ask me to stop drumming my fingers, but still an event worth noting. Still haven't seen hide nor hair of Gretchen, or Ernie for that matter, and Hannah's been banned from the library for having fits. Susan seems to be doing okay under the pressure, but Justin's near to cracking. The fifth and seventh years are dead close to a collective nervous break down, especially the fifth years, since this is their first big test and all. I'd like to say I sympathise, but last year's exams are just a big blur for me, one that I'm not keen on recalling any time soon.
There are some people that are just being plain stupid about exams, though. When all of the rest of the teachers are piling the last minute homework on to make sure we're up to scrap for exams, some people think that oh, cancelling lessons would be a spiffing idea, because abandoning your class when things get tough is really admirable. Real show of Gryffindor courage, that. Oh, I've got to take exams, so of course no one else matters, so I'll just lie and say there'll be another meeting and then never follow up! Yes that sounds like a splendid idea!!
If anyone needs me, I'll be revising with Anthony (that is if I can tear him away from his girlfriend. No offence meant, Lavender).
|
|
|
[25 May 1997|12:53pm] |
I figured I ought to say a few things since I didn't get the chance last night. I was planning on making a sort of speech or something but that was round the time that McGonagall came down in her hairnet and chased Gretchen out of the boy's dorm and told everyone to clear off and we ended up back in Hufflepuff commons (because I think professor Sprout was just slightly more understanding about the need for a party even though that didn't stop her from pulling the plug on us at midnight).
Problem is, while I'm fairly certain I had something worth listening to last night, I've managed to forget it all by now. So I guess all I've got to say is thanks to the team because we wouldn't be anywhere at all without you, reserve included. Knowing that you're there for us is what helps us play our best. And thanks to everyone who supported us this season. We couldn't have done it without you lot, either. Well, actually, we could have, but it wouldn't have been nearly as brilliant.
So thanks. And see you next season.
Oh, and good game Ravenclaw. You're an amazing team. I'd like to say that if there's any team I wouldn't mind losing to, it would be you, but that'd be a lie, so I won't.
|
|
|
[06 May 1997|11:58am] |
Whose natter is the one that has "Draco ♥ ♥ ♥" on the spine?
Because I'm almost certain that could be considered cruel and unusual punishment.
Terry Boot's got the right idea, I think. I'm almost out of new songs, and my natter doesn't like repeat performances so I've coloured its whole back cover with red ink and I'm sending it off to sow its oats or whatever just as soon as it dries.
|
|
|
[03 May 1997|01:34pm] |
So, this match obviously very important because if we don't win we're out of the running entirely. Joshua Underhill was saying the other day how he was thinking about becoming a monk or something which means this would be the last year he ever had to play Quidditch but no pressure or anything. It's the same with Toby Sweeney about his last year playing except without the monk thing. Toby's a really brilliant player, though. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he was signed onto a professional team but it'd be nice to send him away with a victory or two under his belt or the only prospects he's looking at are the Chudley Cannons and any blind twit can make it onto that team.
No one's mentioned Cedric which is good. You'd think it'd bother Summerby more or at all really, since he's Seeker and all, but Summerby's got a good head on his shoulders. He's only fourteen and he knows what he'd like to do with his life (magical law), and I still haven't got a clue myself. But it's never bothered me that much because I've never really needed to know. For classes and N.E.W.T.s maybe but not on a daily basis. But that's Hufflepuff house for you. We don't ever really think ahead because living exclusively in the present's a better philosophy, but I think not knowing what's going to come next just scares an awful lot of us.
Probably just talking out my arse, though. Pre-game jitters. But it's not really a big deal is it? This whole game? It's just a game after all. But maybe not. Susan would call that loser's thinking. And preparing to fail isn't what I should be doing, because it's not just my choice to make and I don't need to be leading my team into a game I'm already ready to give up so sod it.
Sod Harry Potter and his stupid curse and especially sod thinking too much. Maybe I should give just playing the game a try. That's all that Cedric ever did, anyway.
|
|
|
[26 Apr 1997|10:02am] |
Let it never be said that Ravenclaw parties are dull. There were in fact no epic chess matches or impromptu study sessions. There was, admittedly, an awful lot of really horrible music the whole night through, which I valiantly endured, being the good friend that I am (for all their snobbishness when it comes to books and the like you would think a Ravenclaw, much less a whole pack of them, could recognise that The Weird Sisters are musical trash).
Lavender Brown was in attendance, which I think goes without saying, since I helped her with her present for Anthony and everything. Nice girl, though I can't say I'm disappointed she didn't bring any of her fellow Gryffindors along. Twits, the lot of them. Especially the ones that make you think they aren't twits and then turn out to be just as, if not more twittish than the rest. Reckon I can take comfort in the fact that they're all 67% more likely to die at an early age than any of the other houses. At least that's what Joseph Cowling told me. Head Boy, you know. Odd fellow. Always taking notes. Next to Dumbledore, I'd say he knows more about what goes on round Hogwarts than anyone else.
Fingers crossed, then.
I took Gretchen Spinks along, since I wouldn't really know many of the people there. Gretchen's not so bad after all. At least when she isn't talking, which she agreed to do if I promised to read some of those books she's been on about (all the ones on government corruption and religious agendas and what have you). She's brilliant when she keeps her mouth shut, it turns out, and if you kind of squint, she really is pretty! Still worthless as a Defence partner, though.
|
|
|
[24 Apr 1997|08:02am] |
Look, none of you have got the right to complain about your partners when I'm landed with Gretchen Spinks. You could have warned me she was off her head, Susan. She was fine enough last night but as soon as we set off this morning she started asking me about my name and if it was from the bible or the Greek pope and if I was religious, but before I could say anything she was off again, ranting on about the corruption of the Catholic church like it's news. And then she got on the subject of the evils of modern day society and it's umbilical cord to the church, and how we're on the fast track to a global totalitarian dictatorship and how the government is trying to kill us all with exploding fabric and spray-cans.
She hasn't stopped talking since. I'd wager a guess that her favourite word is "Orwellian," considering the fact that she can't go even one sentence without using it. I've stopped responding entirely and she's still not getting the hint. We've been walking for an hour and I sat down to take a break and write this and she's still talking. She's on about how she thinks it's quite equal opportunist of me to keep a diary and that she admires that I'm not restricted by archaic, gender-based stereotypes.
I know boys aren't supposed to hit birds but this one's really pushing her luck.
At any rate, I'm going to try to lose her. We haven't been able to stun much with her chattering on loud enough to reach China. If anyone useful's around, we left the safety zone going north and have been heading that way ever since. I'm going to double back in bit. Maybe she'll be too busy bitching and moaning about whothefuckcares to notice. Anthony, mate, you reading this? Justin? Ernie? Hannah? Susan? Anyone? Hell, at this point I'd even take Scott "The Breather" Rivers. At least he doesn't talk.
I don't think I've ever met anyone more annoying than Gretchen Spinks.
|
|
|
[23 Apr 1997|06:17pm] |
Alphabetical order? All that fuss about the Goblet being used again and dragon tests and duels to the death and they do it in alphabetical order?
That's just fiendish. Not to mention BRILLIANT.
Bet it was Professor Fletcher's idea.
|
|
|
[21 Apr 1997|08:17pm] |
I've already packed all the things on the list Professor Fletcher handed out and some extra things he told me to bring along after class. He's going to teach Ernie and me some of the finer points of wand signature masking and forgery.
Any word yet on how the partners are being chosen? If we're picking our own, I've got dibs on Anthony.
|
|
|
[11 Apr 1997|12:37pm] |
Everything's ready, then. The team's been briefed on what's expected of them, Summerby made some revisions to the In-House Secrecy Clause and Professor Sprout approved it. Good to see she's finally got her priorities in order! Maybe now she'll understand the importance guarded practices.
A bunch of the first years got together and made black and yellow rosettes with little badgers painted on them, and there's a rumour one of the seventh years transfigured a particularly weighty boulder into an abnormally large badger to do a victory lap around the field.
I've got a good feeling about tomorrow.
|
|
|
[26 Mar 1997|08:37pm] |
You know, I always kind of got the impression that Michael Corner had a bit of a death wish, what with kissing his ex-girlfriends in plain view of their current boyfriends, and taunting Dean Thomas, and dating Cho Chang, but this really takes the cake.
Even after his "date" with Hannah he turned up just last night by the kitchens (sporting the remnants of a black eye that I'm assuming was Ernie's handiwork) with a copy of the school roster and a particularly beat-up bunch of daisies. He followed me down toward the entrance to the common room, asking about Susan the whole time, but I just shut the door on him and went on my way.
Unfortunately, it seems that some of the other students didn't have the same sense (obviously, they haven't been properly briefed on security), because next thing I know, there's this huge commotion in the common room, and I can hear Susan screaming bloody fecking murder. When I come out of the dorms, she's chasing Michael Corner round the sofa, hitting him with his own flowers and harping on about women's rights, chauvinist pigs, and male fuckwittage.
I reckon that wasn't the reaction Michael was going for, but all the same, I don't think I've laughed harder in my life.
|
|
|
[07 Mar 1997|06:42pm] |
Well, McGonagall never outright said it, but she very heavily hinted that she'd turn me into an mongoose if I kept asking about lifting Gryffindor's Quidditch ban. I don't see how one game is all that unreasonable!
If I didn't know any better, I'd say she's just sore about the whole thing.
We got the new Quidditch schedules just a bit ago. We're going to be playing Ravenclaw three times to decide who gets the cup starting in April. The games before now don't count for anything.
I'm still not happy about any of this, mind, but it might be interesting to focus on just one team's particular style for a season. And Ravenclaw's an alright opponent. I guess.
|
|
|
[16 Feb 1997|06:10pm] |
|
WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL WAS THAT?
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
mynamesnotzach's journal