ORDER ONLY: A nail-biter
Nov. 9th, 2008 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_mcgonagallOf course the Lord Protector showed up today, Lucius Malfoy in tow.
Of course Mr Marvolo's broom showed signs of malicious tampering in the air. Of course it only showed those signs well into the game, when the Snitch had been sighted. Of course everyone and their mother screamed, absolutely screamed, when the broom began to buck.
I thought that I was through. I honestly thought so. Fortunately, the Lord Protector can - at times - be reasonable. Nevertheless, I will never have a more horrifying experience than watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped the benches.
Marvolo is fine. He's a resilient boy. I shall never know how the Snitch didn't hurt him on its way down.
On the way out of the game, of course, as the crowds were leaving and the Lord Protector was safely packed away with Lucius to the Hospital Wing to get Mr Marvolo checked, I discovered another batch of trouble brewing: the dog. Weasleys Quartus and Quintus have, of course, made no secret of the dog they found by the lake; they seemed to be caring for it well, so I had let it go, as Professor Macnair posed no objections to having such a creature in his common room. But I finally saw it; and - how could they not have seen? - it was a person.
Well, and it was the Boot boy, of course, cringing as he ever was. He dissolved into tears when I asked him how he came to be a dog, and it took quite some time to elicit the story. The Carrows, of course. I knew they were hiding something. If nothing else, the incident has shown that Quartus and Quintus have their hearts in the right place: I nearly (nearly; it would have been fatal) wept at the sight of the two of them embracing Terry when he had his little tantrum. "Should've known you were too special to be just a dog," one of them said - I don't know which one. Molly, you should be proud of your boys; whatever Tertius may be, the rest of them are fine upstanding young men.
In his most pathetic way, Boot asked if he were in trouble. What could I say? "No," of course, he is most assuredly not in trouble. I imagine it must have been simply awful - even if he had done something to merit punishment, which I sincerely doubt, he must have paid for it fifteen times over by now!
And then - the Longbottoms. I am pleased; pleased, worried, and hopeful. I am terrible at expressing what I truly think sometimes.
Of course Mr Marvolo's broom showed signs of malicious tampering in the air. Of course it only showed those signs well into the game, when the Snitch had been sighted. Of course everyone and their mother screamed, absolutely screamed, when the broom began to buck.
I thought that I was through. I honestly thought so. Fortunately, the Lord Protector can - at times - be reasonable. Nevertheless, I will never have a more horrifying experience than watching his knuckles turn white as he gripped the benches.
Marvolo is fine. He's a resilient boy. I shall never know how the Snitch didn't hurt him on its way down.
On the way out of the game, of course, as the crowds were leaving and the Lord Protector was safely packed away with Lucius to the Hospital Wing to get Mr Marvolo checked, I discovered another batch of trouble brewing: the dog. Weasleys Quartus and Quintus have, of course, made no secret of the dog they found by the lake; they seemed to be caring for it well, so I had let it go, as Professor Macnair posed no objections to having such a creature in his common room. But I finally saw it; and - how could they not have seen? - it was a person.
Well, and it was the Boot boy, of course, cringing as he ever was. He dissolved into tears when I asked him how he came to be a dog, and it took quite some time to elicit the story. The Carrows, of course. I knew they were hiding something. If nothing else, the incident has shown that Quartus and Quintus have their hearts in the right place: I nearly (nearly; it would have been fatal) wept at the sight of the two of them embracing Terry when he had his little tantrum. "Should've known you were too special to be just a dog," one of them said - I don't know which one. Molly, you should be proud of your boys; whatever Tertius may be, the rest of them are fine upstanding young men.
In his most pathetic way, Boot asked if he were in trouble. What could I say? "No," of course, he is most assuredly not in trouble. I imagine it must have been simply awful - even if he had done something to merit punishment, which I sincerely doubt, he must have paid for it fifteen times over by now!
And then - the Longbottoms. I am pleased; pleased, worried, and hopeful. I am terrible at expressing what I truly think sometimes.
no subject
Date: 2008-11-10 03:34 pm (UTC)An excellent idea. I shall request it from them - I expect they will understand that they cannot discuss such things in public fora without expecting their professors to read it and use their knowledge.