|
[29 Jun 2004|05:47pm] |
Today the repulsive fluids they've been forcing on me appear to have done their job, in respect to one part of my body at least. My voice, although never quite as lovely as Severus's, has returned so I can voice-post on my own and not bother Poppy with it. (I mention Severus because I hear him right now, and I'm so glad I do.)
Right now I'm doing a lot of sleeping and waking up, and each time I wake up I have to be told about everything again. Memory loss is apparently a regular result of head injuries and shock. That sounds simple enough, but it's hard to have things explained to me over and over. It's not much fun for the people explaining, either. I wish I didn't have to answer the question "Do you remember why you're here?" Each time they tell me about the attack I wonder how I could have forgotten such a big thing.
Poppy and the healers tell me that my legs probably won't ever work properly again, and I suppose it's just as well. Running-- or flying-- away from my problems is something I've done a lot of in my life. Now it seems I'm permanently grounded.
|
|
|
[27 Jun 2004|11:53pm] |
This is just Poppy Pomfrey again, because Xiomara was sleeping so fitfully before the second potion and I'm worried about the poor dear. She's so upset about Professors Lupin and Snape-- she kept talking about how they was prepared and she wasn't, even though she always said she would be. I keep telling her, there is no way you could have known and there is no one but those horrible men to blame for everything that's gone on, even if you were rendered unconscious just a few moments after they swooped on in. I really don't think it helps, though.
She told me her nasty little brother was full of menacing remarks about bad things coming to the school, but that she thought he was just full of hot air. I'm sure he was, too! He wasn't nearly as important as he thought, but he seemed like the sort of man who'd say anything to upset her. He couldn't have really known anything! I'm just sure of it.
Look at me go on in her journal like this. I was just concerned because she seems to be really tearing herself up over this whole debacle and with the state of her injuries she really ought not to be; those-- excuse the words-- Death Eaters had an easy enough time of it.
|
|
|
[27 Jun 2004|05:53pm] |
This is Madam Pomfrey. It's supposed to be a free few minutes for me to drink a bit of tea, because young Seamus is so capable and I haven't slept since this whole debacle began, but Xiomara is very upset and it seems this is the only way to get her to calm down and stop pawing at her bandages and take her potions properly!
Last night after she woke up and nearly gave herself ANOTHER injury, and everything was explained to her (of course, in uncomplicated terms, as her head is still very woozy) she insisted I allow her to write in this thing, but as she must stay calm and rest seeing as she's NOT GOING ANYWHERE ANY TIME SOON, I told her I'd repeat everything into this handy little black thing on a string (excuse me Xiomara, wire) since her voice is still quite unintelligible.
Where was I? Last night, oh, she had fallen asleep again by that time, poor thing, but good healthy natural sleep's really the best thing for her right now, yes dear I know about your legs and we're doing everything we can!, so here we are today.
She says: "I know I haven't always been the most responsible teacher." (Really dear, do you want to start on such pessimistic terms? You're a fine-- okay.) "I was in tissue-- oh inexcusably careless and stupid and there is no way I could ever really apologize properly for being so reckless.
"I could never have imagined such a thing would happen and I allowed myself to be caught off-guard while thinking about silly things like zebras in my tea," (Oh my. Are you feeling light-headed? Do you want to stop? Well there's no need to be rude.) "And not paying real attention to things like my brother's stupid warnings or Lucius Malfoy or anything really. I feel like it is my fault about everyone for not being helpful or brave at all like Severus and Remus," (God rest his poor soul, the good man.) "And I just can't stand the fact that I was useless in spite of everything. So I wanted to apologize even though my words can't take anything back, God knows they didn't help me and now they're all I have. So consider this aooouuum oh bother it all bloody potion."
Right that's enough for today, Xiomara must rest now, she's been slurring her words this entire time and no wonder. Stop fiddling about with your head, I'll give you a bit more painkiller potion. How does this post? Oh update.
|
|
|
[23 Jun 2004|09:31am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 optimistic |
] |
Since Severus and I sent Alarico off on an exciting tropical Muggle curse-- er, cruise-- things have been pleasantly quiet. My brother, of course, was full of dire nonsense during his entire stay, but he was probably just thinking about his own future. I am sure at this very moment he is surrounded by grass skirts, seasickness, lurid neon flower-blotches masquerading as bathing suits on middle-aged women, and small, sunburnt, unsupervised children. How delightful.
Today in my tea leaves, Sibyll saw an owl, which she says means either bad or good luck; and something that could have been a zebra, which represents change. It's good to keep your options open.
It's similarly good to see the seventh-years making such ambitious (and not-so-ambitious, for those who prefer to waste away in France over their absinthe) plans-- they remind me of when I was that age and living in a tiny flat with four other people. But rather than doing the old fogy thing and reminiscing at length about my misspent youth, I'll instead wish you students good luck in both the rest of your NEWTs and in general. You've certainly shaped up better than I ever could have expected when you first bumbled into my class and asked me which end of the broomstick was up.
|
|
|
[17 Jun 2004|12:37pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amused |
] |
Severus Snape is a god among wizards. I will never speak poorly of his intellect again.
|
|
|
[10 Jun 2004|11:09pm] |
My journal has become merely a lackluster record of the now-daily horrors Alarico inflicts on me. This is deeply depressing not only because I'm starting to become acclimated to the deeds of that infernal man but also because it is interrupting my usual non-posts about other people who don't have the same last name as me. (Right now, for example, I could be mocking discussions on this forum about "package-ogling", yet I'm too caught up in real life. While watching Severus turn purple with indignation is fairly amusing, it just does not compare.)
I have figured out my obviously insane sibling, however. My brother has decided that because he has some sort of guilt issue or midlife crisis going on I need to exist in a hellish stasis resembling being gnawed at by multiple irate blunt-toothed aardvarks.
As soon as I find him a good therapist this will end and I can hate him from a distance again. I'm sure Sibyll knows one; she's clever with things like that. Just today she was saying we should perform an exorcism on Alarico.
|
|
|
[09 Jun 2004|10:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 groggy and irritated |
] |
Right, so I hereby formally apologize for anything Alarico (the rather loud man running about the castle loose insulting everything he sees, including potted plants) might say or has already said to any of you, students and staff.
Earlier he had a row with a picture. (It was Sibyll's rather nice painting of Amphilochus and Alcmaeon, too. Now they're insisting that they must get revenge, and I finally had to cover them with a sheet so that we could get any sleep.)
He scared Sprout so badly with his ranting last night that she nearly fell down the stairs. She's been giving me unpleasant looks ever since, even though I caught her before she went tumbling. I suspect to find something nasty and leafy awaiting me the next time I turn a dark corner.
As the last time I saw Alarico I was twenty years old, reserve Chaser for the Harpies, and working for QUABBLE, he's been screamingly aghast over the fact that I am now something as modest as a jim teacher. I have no idea what this means, nor who Jim is. I suspect it is something Muggle, which of course to my "I-am-so-pureblooded-I-excrete-diamonds" brother is quite the insult indeed.
I think this is the first time I have ever defended Sirius Black against someone else's insults. But Sirius has it good. At least he is not an alcohol-sodden lesbian living in sin in a tower, as I am constantly reminded.
|
|
|
[08 Jun 2004|07:14pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 anxious |
] |
The absolutely unthinkable has happened. I cannot imagine what that man was thinking when he decided to come "pay me a little visit" at my place of employment.
What's more, he contacted Dumbledore before he came, whereas he didn't even send me an owl to let me know he was coming. He's staying.
If you hear anguished and/or squelchy sounds coming from the direction of a broom closet, not to worry. It's just me ending Alarico's life thus putting me out of my misery.
|
|
|
[24 May 2004|09:33am] |
Getting "cocktailed" with Sibyll, Severus, and Sylvia last evening was certainly interesting. I'm still picking debris of bar nuts and pulpy fruit material out of Sibyll's hair. Fortunately all of the crushed ice melted fairly quickly.
I know Sevvie has a fine singing voice, of course-- but it's still always a surprise, especially when it has lain dormant for so long. I must amend this. It would be truly a shame to deprive the world of such melodiousness. (Were I not such good friends with Rosmerta, I doubt we'd still be allowed in at the Three Broomsticks.)
In closing, hurrah for hangover potions.
|
|
|
[22 May 2004|09:44pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
bored |
] |
So, the Ministry is being completely and utterly useless; students are cracking under the pressure of life and turning to depraved activities like fort-making for sport; and Severus is lost under a pile of brightly colored wires. I went down to the dungeons to offer him assistance, as Sirius seems to have left him in the lurch, but the steam coming from his head smells terrible. His hair seems to be turning rather crispy and starting to singe. (In other words, all is normal.)
Sibyll assures me that Doom is planning upon showing up in the shape of the unexpected. Keep your eyes peeled. It could be bunnies.
|
|
|
[05 May 2004|07:38pm] |
With all of the wonders of modern medicine, you'd think healing wouldn't itch so much.
Yes, itching is quite a common theme these days. There's the itching of new skin growing, and then there's the itching of irritants such as those I am forced to share web space with. It's amazing how publicly plebeian some of the wealthiest people are.
In other news, this rematch had better impress me like nothing has ever impressed me before.
|
|
|
[21 Apr 2004|05:36pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
bored |
] |
How I adore reading the fascinating discourse of my peers in the community. It is not merely enough that I get to read their inspired words themselves-- no, it is infinitely more enthralling when they quote ambiguous poetry.
Certain people ought to just wear 'WE ARE DEEP' badges to match their 'WE ARE EVIL' banners.
|
|
|
[17 Apr 2004|08:29pm] |
Some people are utterly tasteless.
If there is anything I can do for you, Molly and Arthur, don't hesitate to ask.
|
|
|
[03 Apr 2004|08:54am] |
Slytherin vs. Ravenclaw today. I think it goes without saying that if the pitch ends up covered in thousands of splinters of broomstick again, I will be less than pleased. Much less.
In other news, I happened upon some new tea from Reggio di Calabria for you, Sibyll. It's made from bergamot, peppermint, and some sort of root, and supposedly it's good for mental clarity. It sounded like something you'd like.
|
|
|
[01 Apr 2004|07:42pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
amused |
] |
So, you remember I said I was going to make an effort not to mock anyone?
People around here make it too easy for me.
Sprout and Flitwick apparently are talkative drunks. And, also apparently, they used to have some sort of "thing" (their words, not mine). In the interest of not completely horrifying everyone, I won't continue. If they hadn't been paying for the drinks, I would have fled. As it is I believe I am deeply scarred.
|
|
|
[09 Feb 2004|11:04pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
 unimpressed |
] |
I hate Filch's cat.
Also, obviously the words "1917 original patina" mean nothing to the inhabitants of this castle. My Silver Arrow. Swept. The FLOOR.
|
|
|
[29 Jan 2004|10:44am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
"New Age" nonsense that sounds like chipmunks wearing bells |
] |
I emerge from the deep, dank depths-- oh wait, that's Sevvie's dungeons.
Let's try again. Overstuffed cushions are the most comfortable things in the entire world to fall asleep all curled up together on. I fear Sibyll has invaded my brain with satisfyingly suspicious incense, rather positive tarot readings, and most of all chocolate. This (pleasant) interruption of my standard negative and derisive nature quite possibly has something to do with the burgeoning conspiracy theories about the week of cancelled lessons and alien invasions.
Sibyll has the most interesting (and reusable, as they come in packs of twenty!) taste in gifts.
Dare I say it? I dare. I am actually quite contented right now. As such, I cannot be bothered to mock anyone. I’m sure you’ll all miss my acerbic drollness and stunning retorts.
|
|
|
[12 Dec 2003|09:28pm] |
|
Oh my. Erm. Early Christmas present from Sibyll dictates I--
oh hell, why should I bother typing this. and why am I still here and not in the tower. I'm um, going there now.
|
|
|
[16 Nov 2003|08:26pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
complacent |
] |
Isn't this fascinating. Remus is leaving, for an "indefinite" period of time, for inexplicable reasons; just at the time Sevvie showed his true colors and managed to throw a hissy fit, all in the span of twenty four hours. I'm very unimpressed with the latter party. Ho hum, it all chalks up to just another day of time-honored Hogwarts drama.
Incidentally, Sibyll, your tea leaves reading for me yesterday came quite true today. At least, if frozen solid broomsticks count as dire omens. I'd ask Severus for that broom-thawing philter of his, but he's quite preoccupied, it seems.
|
|
|
[01 Nov 2003|07:02am] |
Who is this disheveled creature I see, attempting to quietly sidle out of one R. J. Lupin's suite? It would be so much easier to discern identity if there weren't two of them running around. (I suspect there may be even more. They reproduce like rabbits, you know, the garden variety of Snape.) I suspect Sevvie's (whichever one it may have been, but I have my suspicions, how about you?) suave exit move would have worked so much better if he hadn't knocked over a lantern in the process. You know, if you set the castle on fire, I guarantee that the entire castle will know exactly what you're up to. Oh, wait...
In other news, I, like most sane people, am retiring to bed. This is markedly sans chair, as I now have some smashing bruises the like of which I never received from playing Quidditch for the last twenty-plus years of my life. (It was rather worth it, though.)
|
|