Morag MacDougal condones ad hoc violence

[WARDED: ANDREW]

You shouldn't have. But thanks. It looks fascinating.

[/WARD]

[WARDED: GREG]

Mother has commanded So I guess I'll see you at the trial.

[/WARD]

One is never too old for a Howler from mother, apparently.

[WARD: PRIVATE]

All the paperwork's in order - finally. Merlin, I'm nervous. I know they're the Department of Mysteries and secrets are part of the package, but it wouldn't kill them to let you know what to expect.

At least if they hate me I can just stay at Beaters. There are worse jobs.

[/WARD]

A Friday night OFF? Unheard of. I don't believe it. I might just show up at the pub because I don't know what else to do with myself.

Personal references are weird.

First, you're going to intentionally choose people that like you. Even the worst people know somebody out there that likes them, so the people you're being referred to aren't really getting an accurate picture, are they?

Then, you've got to ask people to write them for you, which is just awkward. "Hi, Professor, how's Tahiti? Could you please take time out of your holiday to write about how amazing I am? Thanks."

And what if you're really good, but you just never stand out or get to know people? I've heard it's all about who you know, but who's to say that person wouldn't be better for the job than the person who got six glowing references?

In short, I protest against this system. And not only because it's a pain in my arse.

I don't think I'm wrong to believe I shouldn't have to clean up after my brother. He's a big boy, who got a NEWT in Charms. And I certainly can't be mistaken for a house elf.

Therefore, let it be known. If he tracks owl shit through this flat one more time, I can't be held accountable for my actions.

[WARDED: SALLY-ANNE]

I didn't get murdered, by the way.

It's still hot out. But the Delta Aquariids are bright tonight.

I was out in Hogsmeade Park earlier and I saw just one light up there, and I thought the meteor shower was starting already. But some random bloke walking past stopped and asked me what I was looking at, and I told him and he said it wasn't a meteor, it's probably a seti satilight. And I asked him what's that, and he said it's something Muggles put up into space.

People. I would like to know the precise function of a satilight. And how do Muggles get things in space, anyway? I'd have liked Muggle Studies if we learned about stuff like that. And if we'd had a nicer teacher. And why don't wizards put anything into space? You'd think it would be easier with magic. If magic would even work there.

Bugger Divination.

And bugger this whole week. I hope you lot are enjoying your celebratory debauchery, because somebody's got to make your girly cocktails all weekend.

( WARD: PRIVATE )

It's bloody hard to study in a pub. But it has its perks.

For example, there are plenty of people willing to let me practise palmistry on them. Now, I've never been very good at palmistry. Or any method of divination that didn't involve stars, for that matter. But I think I'm getting the hang of this.

Of course, there is the hazard that I am being fed erroneous personal details, as people so often do in pubs. Also, it may just be that the plausibility of my prediction is directly proportional to how many drinks the subject has had.

I am, however, 8-0 on: "I'm seeing...you want me to bring you another pint."

( I've been uptight and made a mess, but I'll clean it up myself, I guess. Oh, the sweet smell of success. )