Sun, Jul. 10th, 2005, 09:11 pm
Dear God, G-d, Allah, Jesus Christ, Mother Mary, Hare Krishna, Buddha, Lucifer, Vishnu, Osiris, Jupiter, Earth Goddess, Odin, and Zeus:
I am in your debt, for not only have you delivered Pansy unto me healthy and unharmed, but you have spared my father death, armlessness, and judgment at the hands of plebeian authorities who would not understand the meaning of "life's calling" even if it walked up and hexed them viciously in the back. Please see that father enjoys a full and productive life, even if he is now unemployed. I think it's best if you keep him and Mother apart for a while -- at least until Mother grows bored of bathing with her Turkish concubine.
Further, in a grand gesture that even I could not have anticipated, you have graciously decided to make the ink in these books wane and fade away, so that I shall never again be tempted to read the inane and imbecilic jawings of the thoroughly stupid humans who inhabit this earth and make my life a constant tedium. I still haven't forgiven you for infesting this earth with said idiots, by the way, but taking away their books goes a long way in softening me up on the matter.
Since you are omniscient and all knowing, you are already up to speed on my current goings on. What do you think of the name "The Isle of Drear Bonny Wee Boo Hags" for a quidditch team? I personally think it's a bit
girly long, so if you could give me a sign as to how you feel about it, I'd gladly take your opinion into consideration. Further, if you could see to it that the games department approves my petition to have a fourteenth team added to the British League, I'd appreciate it, but if that's too much trouble I can always just establish my own league. Pansy and I are looking into getting the Isle recognised as an independent country so that we can declare ourselves its official royal rulers; considering this, creating my very own league may well be the best course of action in the long run. Try outs for the Isle of Drear Boo Hags will be held in two weeks, and I am hoping that you know better than to inspire any Chudley Cannon fans to come try their luck. I advise that you not disappoint me.
Since you are omniscient and all knowing, you also already know why I did what I did. I don't imagine anyone will ever be properly grateful for what I've done, either. Gryffindors don't understand how generously I've behaved, for they give credit only to swift, one-sided action and dull, "we shall overcome" speeches. They will never comprehend the strength it takes
for me to do nothing. . . particularly when you've always been expected to do something. Great and/or terrible somethings, depending on who you ask.
And when the time comes, I fully intend to do those somethings.
Draco C. Malfoy
The son of the Prince,
now the Prince at last.
Sat, Jul. 2nd, 2005, 01:01 pm
Shalom. I've never really much bothered with you, and as such I should probably introduce myself. But then against you are supposedly omniscient, and even though that makes me uncomfortable for several reasons it does save me time spent talking about myself. Usually I am happy to tell others all about myself but right now I would prefer to talk about others. Praise be to Allah.
WHERE IS PANSY?? O' Heavenly Father, I would like it if you would please find Pansy and deliver her unto me. I know it's wrong for a man to 'know' his second-cousin-by-marriage/adopted sister but I don't really care about what's wrong or right and never really have, and plus if Adam and Eve were really the first people on earth (obviously pureblooded) then their children must have gone forth to be fruitful and multiply despite the inconvenience of being related. Suffer the little children, for I have known Pansy since infant-hood and if you are taking her away from me because I was an unappreciative child who rolled her in the mud and tied her to my broomstick I would not blame you for doing so but would like to point out that, to my credit, she was never bothered by it one bit. She's the only one who is never bothered by me. May Bodhichitta, precious and sublime.
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for the sinners, now and at the hour of their deaths, and forgive those who have trespassed against me, for they are abundant, and I cannot find it in my heart (nor do I have the time) to forgive them personally. I do not like most people, and if you and I were to have tea together I would probably ask you why you had to go and make so many of them, and make them so stomach-turningly ugly and intolerably dull, as well. But I do like Pansy, and Blaise, and Millicent, and even Theodore most of the time, so I ask that you please keep them on this earth so that I will not be alone
like I am now. Blessed Be. Praise be to Allah.
Amen, Alleluia, and Mazaltov.
Thu, Jun. 30th, 2005, 11:40 pm
So. I KNOW that you people are over in the village and have been for quite some time. Last night I heard all sorts of blasts and crashes and screeches. And very early this morning an entire HERD of patronuses came galloping through my tent.
So, yes, I know that you are all in the village, and I also know that when I last heard from Pansy she had just finished serving tea at Madam Puddifoot's.
WHERE IS PANSY???
I require answers at once.
In my trousers pocket I have a list of all the most beautiful and relaxing beaches in all of the world. Included on that list is the Aspir Paralia, in Santorini, where I spent most of the summer holidays of my youth. I do not plan to visit the Aspir Paralia this year. Rather, I plan to travel to the beaches I have never been to before. The list includes the Waikiki beach in Oahu, Matiri in Bora Bora, Copacabana in Rio de Janeiro, and many others. I never really realised there were so many places I had never been to before, so it is more than high time. Every few days I plan to pull out this list and randomly select my beach destination, and in this way I will travel from shore to shore.
What all is there on a beach for a wizard to do, you might ask. The answer is this: very little. Which is precisely what I want to do with my life. Very little. I excel at the very little things--at, for instance, spreading out a blanket on the sand and charming it to stay wrinkle free. I know exactly how spectacular a sunset will be by making quick study of the air quality and weather patterns. I'm good at applying sun-blocking potions to keep those who are fair-skinned from getting burnt. I know all the necessary wards to keep away muggles--even the ones with surfboards and volly ball nests. I make sure that each of my companions has a very full, very cold drink in their hand. I can make a huge, roaring beach bonfire. I don't even need my wand.
Pansy, Mother, and others who matter, I hope you are all doing well. As for the rest of you, I will be happy to never see you again. See that you extend me the courtesy and I will do my very best to do the same.
YES, it's a platypus, and YES, it is pink. And NO, I cannot procure you one, Brown and Patil of Gryffindor. Nor can I tell you where I procured the creature. It's a secret, if you want to know the truth. Some of us have connections and would take care not to lose them.
And yes, I already know that the school rules state that students may keep either an owl, cat, or toad for creature companionship, but since there is already a sodzilla dwelling in the lake, and a boo hag living with Boot, and a Chuckadonna residing in the dungeons, it doesn't seem likely that a platypus will create much fuss or fanfare--even if it does happen to be pink.
Anyway, the platypus belongs to Pansy now. It was her first birthday present. Her second birthday falls in August when mine does. Hardly anyone in the world is so lucky to actually have two birthdays, so I firmly suggest that you all give her the congratulations and warm wishes that she deserves.
The platypus, I've learned, is quite a remarkable creature. It looks like one of those dreadful hybrid creations that Hagrid might breed, but in the case of the platypus it's hybrid quality occurs naturally, so that it resembles both a duck and a beaver. As such, it's considered one of nature's enigmas. Specifically, muggles consider it an enigma. I cannot imagine it being particularly enigmatic to those of us who grew up amongst magical creatures, however. Muggles are stumped by the most simple of things, really. But still, this platypus is a fetching sort of creature, even if he is pink.
All this talk of animals and creatures has me thinking about the curious phenomenon know as animagi. Believe me, I am appalled at the realisation that there are wizards and witches out there who actually enjoy transfiguring themselves into something non-human, but I can see where it would on very very very very very very very very very very rare occasions be a handy skill to possess. Were I an animagus (though I would never be such a thing) I think a platypus would be a useful form to take, as it navigates wells in both water and on land, and has a poisonous spur on its back leg that can make a human victim extremely ill.
I would not be a pink coloured platypus animagus, however. I would be a white platypus animagus. Yes, a nice slivery-white colour.
Though now that I think on it, it's rather useless to look like a duck and not be able to fly. If I am going to be duck-billed, I want to be duck-winged as well. But being a duck animagus doesn't sound noble or grand at all. Perhaps I should opt for the form of a snowy-white hawk, or a white, winged horse.
Can a person have more than one animagus form?
Blaise? Theodore? What sort of animagus forms would you like to take?
Now that the Headmaster's inspired group detention has drawn to a close, I feel that I can finally sit down and share my thoughts on the matter. First, I would like to say that this group detention could not have possibly been a bigger waste of my time. Which is what detention is supposed to be, of course--a waste of time, so that you can endure it while being punished by thoughts of all the things you'd rather be doing. In my case--one of carpentry, painting, and decorating spent with Potter, Granger, Weasel, and Weasel--I would rather be doing about a squillion other things. For example: scrubbing cauldrons; helping Pansy to organise her bonnet collection; hand-feeding Sarsparilla; trimming the quidditch pitch with a pair of cuticle scissors; trimming Crabbe and Goyle's toenails with a pair of cuticle scissors; or any number of other unpleasant tasks that nonetheless sound refreshing after watching Weasley slather orange paint all over the castle.
Believe me, I see the Headmaster's real intentions. With one wave of his wand he could have a half-dozen guest suites outfitted in comfortable furnishings and subtle decor. The point of this group detention was not about guest suites but about something dumb and Gryffindorish, like camaraderie or "working together in the face of a common goal". Just because a group of people can work together once (and with difficulty, at that) in order to escape certain death at the hands of dementors does not automatically mean that they will be keen on working together to assemble something called a "bean bag chair".
By the way, Potter, if that really is muggle furniture, it's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Who fills up a large canvas sack with lentils and decides it would be something nice to sit on? Proof yet again that muggles lack common sense, as well as style and taste.
For anyone who is thinking of speaking to me today, I should warn you that I'm not in a very good mood. My arm hurts, my best pair of shoes are filled with orange paint, and Sarsparilla was howling from the lake all night and I couldn't sleep because of it.
My thursday night was spent with Professors Malfoy and Sinistra, plus Pansy, as it was my mother's 23rd birthday. There was sake, which I brought back from my brief stop-over in Japan, and the usual gift giving and festivities. Frippy's accordion muse was in fine form.
The dormitory seems quieter with Blaise gone. Not that he was particularly loquacious, but more so than Theodore, and he spoke with more defined, clear enunciation than Greg and Vince. He was also showing signs of becoming a very skilled chaser. Also, he finally taught me to appreciate chess before his... departure. Perhaps Theodore will show me the remaining finer points, if I ask him to.
So things change with relative speed around these parts. Nothing is much of a surprise, anymore.
When a person is seventeen years of age, and is of sound mind and judgment, and is soon to face N.E.W.T.s and a life after Hogwarts, then that person should have the absolute and undeniable right to carry out their affairs as they best see fit. It is also worth mentioning that when one's time is fully spent on arduous N.E.W.T.s preparation, entertaining one's
girlf sister and House Elf, and coordinating practises and strategies for the house quidditch team, then it only stands to reason that one would have very little free time and would have to squeeze in things like, say, correspondence during Potions; specifically, while everyone else is frantically trying to measure out their abysmal scintillation solutions while my own already stands at the ready, perfectly brewed to the letter.
I am not arguing. I am stating an opinion. As far as I know there is nothing in the rulebooks against that.
While I am stating opinions, I am compelling to share mine on the subject of tradition, wealth, and standing. There are some people out there who believe that their admiration of a certain tradition automatically makes them a part of that same tradition. This is ridiculous. Just because someone admires the Queen of France doesn't MAKE them the Queen of France. Even if their countenance was identical to the Queen of France, and they lived in a replica of Versailles and owned a little French bulldog in a ruffled collar and wore a gaudy golden crown atop their stupid head--not even THEN would they be the Queen of France. Not even being engaged in a friendly or even mildly polite association with the genuine King of France can transform a person into the Queen of France. In fact, the person would be a pathetic impostor for even thinking that all of these frivolous qualities somehow makes them even REMOTELY comparable to the Queen of France.
To whomever has been outfitting my House Elf in various items of clothing, I am not amused. In my past few visits to Professor Malfoy and Professor Sinistra's quarters I have found Frippy wearing: a lacy bib, a fringed and beaded scarf in aubergine and turquoise silk, a pair of cuban-heeled stockings with matching garters, a large feathered hat, an argyle dickie, and a kilt. I was particularly offended by the kilt. Frippy is not Scottish.
At this moment I'd like to address the culprit directly and point out that Frippy, unlike common House Elves, is very special and has served my Mother for over twenty years. You may think yourself exceedingly clever to covertly slip natty little garments on her during your detentions, but if you think that makes her 'free', you're both profoundly mistaken as well as an utter fool. Frippy would rather die than not serve the Malfoy family, as is proven by the fact that she has remained in Professor Malfoy's quarters despite your numerous attempts to doll her up in the name of House Elf rights.
On other subjects, I felt today's Defence lesson was exciting and apropos, given this school's history. And for those of you who were whinging about safety, I'd only like to remind you of not-Professor Moody's lessons on Unforgivable curses.
I was a little confused by some of the results of the lesson, however; when Pansy and I were in the queue behind Millicent and Blaise, I could have sworn that it was Millicent who volunteered to look in the box. How do you explain what followed, Blaise? Not that it wasn't amusing. It was hilarious, in fact. But on that note, how do you explain the fact that you're using all the time you've booked on the pitch for chatting up the flying Professor, instead of finessing your flying skills? Don't think of me as interrogating you; think of me as simply attending to a Captain's duties.
The 'friendly-feud' between Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis progressed from minor annoyance, surpassing headache-inducing irritation and evnetually culminated in the other players threatening to go on strike unless something is done. I was grappling with the horns of this dilemma when a windfall came along and solved the problem for me. During practise this weekend both Tracey and Daphne--seeming to have forgotten that they are actually chasers--lobbed the quaffle at the other's head and ended up tangling their broomsticks together in mid-air while engaged in vicious hair-pulling. Both of them crashed into the stands and Tracey's broom was broken into four large pieces. When she Owled her parents for a new broomstick they were quite furious, as this is the third broom Tracey has managed to ruin. This incident, paired with Tracey's dropping marks, has prompted the Davis family to order her off the team. Normally I would probably send the Davis family a very harshly-worded letter for interfering with my captaining duties, but in this case I find that their decision takes care of the Daphne-Tracey situation quite nicely.
This incident has left me short a chaser, however. Blaise, I know you are not overly fond of commitment in its many forms, but I am requesting that you fulfill your own duty as reserve chaser and step into Tracey's former position. This will require you to be at every practise from now until we win the cup, which means that I expect you to be prompt and ready to play. You should also book some additional time on the pitch with Johnson so that you can get yourself into competitive shape as quickly as possible. Judging by those most-recently taken photographs of you, your upper body is looking a little squashy
On the subject of Defence lessons, I find that our new Professor is impressively qualified and apt at the subject. And anyone who thinks I am speaking from a position of bias ought to have been in Santorini this summer when one of the shoppe proprietors used questionable magic in luring Professor Sinistra toward a falsely labeled bottle of Retsina. The label claimed that the Retsina contained in the bottle was of finest quality, but Professor Malfoy easily detected the false claim and stopped Professor Sinistra from making the potentially-devastating purchase. She also saw to it that the shoppe proprietor will never sell his wares anywhere in Greece again.
As a final note, I would like to put forth that I have no intention whatsoever of indulging in any chocolates or sweets tomorrow, no matter who might send them to me.