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"Higher still, and higher-- from the earth thou springest..." - Percy Bysshe Shelley

16 November 2016 Saturday

Wow, a WONDERFUL game today!! 400 to 270 for a final score!! Congratulations to Gryffindor for their win, though 'twas VERY close up until the end! Well played, both teams! Kenneth seems to have recovered from his bout with Red Bull. Well, as recovered as he could be, hmm?

And I now have so many notes on BOTH house teams to go over with my own lot! This is so exciting! I can't wait to share with everyone!!

Patrick Murphy Wood! If you don't stop sniping at Aurelia I'll be VERY upset with you, and so will mum, and it'll make the lecture you got from Lewis seem like a lullaby in comparison, and make no mistake about that! Don't think I didn't hear you arguing with her AGAIN after the game! What's your problem, then?

Albert, I'm sorry that it amused me to see various girls who are fond of you, Amelia not the least of which, all hug you after the game.

10 November 2016 Sunday


It seems as though someone attempted to charm the broomshed green and silver, I'm supposing for the upcoming Gryffindor/Slytherin game, and the process was then interrupted by a supporter from the other house.

Now it's roughly half red and gold, half green and silver, with random splotches of all four colours overlapping, and looks like nothing so much as a very large, very demented Christmas ornament.


Right. Same goes for the Quaffle, Beater's bats, and... HOW did they manage to paint the Bludgers?!

[6 November 2016]

So why is it that various students are muttering imprecations against Professor Sylvanus these days? What's going on, then? It can't REALLY be that bad, right? If there was something truly horrible going on, I'm sure me mother would've mentioned it by now.

I've been a mite busy of late-- between Quidditch, and mediating a rather horrifying row between me brother and Aurelia Flint (AGAIN), and a project in Muggle Studies, I've not really written much here.

But hopefully everyone had fun at the Masquerade, or even if they didn't, were at least not made unhappy somehow. And happy belated birthday, Alaina. Hope it's a good year for you.

Oi. The Ravenclaws have the pitch booked, and if I read up any more on Muggle engineering my eyes may cross. I think a brief walk and a trip to the kitchens is in order.
Err... right.

Who dented the door of the broomshed with what appears to be a raw potato?

And furthermore, why?

There are about a dozen or so more potatoes scattered around the pitch. If mam were anyone but herself, I've a feeling she'd be furious. Anyone have any information, then?
Right, then. Being one of what seems to be a minority not taking DADA this year, I'm going to have to pose a somewhat random question.

Why is it that Albert Dingle has been wearing such a woebegone expression every afternoon coming out of the library, then? I ran into the fellow yesterday and asked him what the matter was, and he muttered something about DADA and slunk off.

I'm hoping that everything's okay with him, then?
Well, I never! What in the world happened that HE became a Prefect, then, uncharitable though that sounds?

I was passing the staffroom and saw little Callisto Babbling running out, as little lasses her age are wont to do, and she accidentally crashed into Blake Pearson of Ravenclaw, and of course instead of listening to her perfectly polite apology, he shoves her down again and calls her a pesky little brat. And then when I went over to make sure that naught was amiss with the poor little girl, he calls ME an interfering bint, 'Exhibit B of Nepotism', and he had little hope that "the brat" I was helping up would ever achieve anything of her own merit!

Pardon me Gaelic, but what the hell?

I'm quite sure I've never had cross words with the bloke, and certainly tisn't poor little Callisto's fault that she's the daughter of her parents. Did something happen to put the fellow in such an angry mood, then, or does he ACTUALLY think that no one ever deserves positions of responsibility aside from himself any more?

'Tis a pity, really. Sure and he'd be better-liked if he weren't making such accusations. I suppose it's off to find me Mam-- she'll have time to console the weeping child, but I've best get a move on to the library if I'm to finish this Herbology essay today.
Had dinner with Mam and Da tonight, at theirs. It was a nice change from the crowd that is the Great Hall, but then again, I'm not quite sure that's an entirely accurate statement.

Specifically, Uncle Marcus and Aunt Penny were over. So, of course, mam cooked enough food to feed all Hogwarts, not that there was anything by way of complaint from anyone. Of course, Uncle Marcus made the suggestion of starting a betting pool over the Quidditch games at school, Aunt Penny told him to be serious, Da echoed Aunt Penny's sentiments, and Mam scolded and hugged the lot of them, as she's always doing. And then of course the topic was brought up of some of the notes addressed to Mam by the more flighty-minded members of the student body, after which Uncle Marcus, true to tradition, threatened to throttle them.

Basic chaos ensued, but that was to be expected, really.

I love them all.

Mam and I got back from dinner early enough to give us a good half-hour to do a few laps before practice officially began. Get the blood flowing and all that. The other teams are all looking fairly strong this year, and by all accounts, Ravenclaw's new Seeker's a force to be reckoned with and I would know, because even as a wee lassie she always dropped by to visit mam for pointers, and then considering whom her parents are, tis really not all a surprise, either.

Practice is over for now, but tis another half-hour before curfew. Anyone up for a brief spot of one-on-one?


Tara Maureen Wood

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