Buried? Oh, yes, I was indisposed last night, I'm afraid. Very busy with various fire chats and the like.
I'm not certain I find your mail as amusing as you do. Well, not all of it, leastways. I've not been so much "accused" of having fixed the goblet (in Harry's favour, not Cedric's, of course) as much as I've had very knowing looks flashed in my direction. Flattering as it may be, I definitely do not have the skills to manipulate ad object like that. Now my brother, on the other hand, that's right up his pitch. All I was told to do was make sure Harry put his name in the goblet- but I already told you that. Now, what I can't figure is why he looked so damned surprised when his name came out. I saw him put the parchment in, so...
Though come to think on it, I don't know what it said. It definitely wasn't a blank slip of parchment, though.
Cedric was definitely an unwelcome surprise from all quarters, not that anything can be done now. I feel for him, though. He's one of my best newts and he deserves to be there, really. And even with all the extra lessons I've given Harry, I'm pretty sure there's no way he can measure up.
Anyway, back to your mail.
-For the parents of the pre-Hogwartians (and the current Hogwartians, actually), why not tell them that you're just following the YPL plan as approved by Auror Lestrange? That ought to shut their gobs right up, in addition to being the truth.
-No, you didn't tell me about Stint doing a stint. Haha. Good to know! Maybe there'll be time to take him out for a round in Hogsmeade.
-Errands? I am certifiably intrigued.
-That's rough. I don't know what you can say, though. I know there are a lot of factories are employing halfbloods, but it's not exactly the most well-paying or otherwise rewarding work. And there's all those stalls in Borough Market, but then that can be rough, too. It's always getting raided on suspicion of black market trading.
-Wot's that? Because I'm pretty sure the pink-parchment woman is a student, you know. I thought we were being discrete in front of them, too. Am I doing something not-discrete that I don't know about? Because I've been known to do that. You need to give me some kind of signal if I start to stare at your chest at dinner.
no subject
I'm not certain I find your mail as amusing as you do. Well, not all of it, leastways. I've not been so much "accused" of having fixed the goblet (in Harry's favour, not Cedric's, of course) as much as I've had very knowing looks flashed in my direction. Flattering as it may be, I definitely do not have the skills to manipulate ad object like that. Now my brother, on the other hand, that's right up his pitch. All I was told to do was make sure Harry put his name in the goblet- but I already told you that. Now, what I can't figure is why he looked so damned surprised when his name came out. I saw him put the parchment in, so...
Though come to think on it, I don't know what it said. It definitely wasn't a blank slip of parchment, though.
Cedric was definitely an unwelcome surprise from all quarters, not that anything can be done now. I feel for him, though. He's one of my best newts and he deserves to be there, really. And even with all the extra lessons I've given Harry, I'm pretty sure there's no way he can measure up.
Anyway, back to your mail.
-For the parents of the pre-Hogwartians (and the current Hogwartians, actually), why not tell them that you're just following the YPL plan as approved by Auror Lestrange? That ought to shut their gobs right up, in addition to being the truth.
-No, you didn't tell me about Stint doing a stint. Haha. Good to know! Maybe there'll be time to take him out for a round in Hogsmeade.
-Errands? I am certifiably intrigued.
-That's rough. I don't know what you can say, though. I know there are a lot of factories are employing halfbloods, but it's not exactly the most well-paying or otherwise rewarding work. And there's all those stalls in Borough Market, but then that can be rough, too. It's always getting raided on suspicion of black market trading.
-Wot's that? Because I'm pretty sure the pink-parchment woman is a student, you know. I thought we were being discrete in front of them, too. Am I doing something not-discrete that I don't know about? Because I've been known to do that. You need to give me some kind of signal if I start to stare at your chest at dinner.
A shove might work, for starters.