Once your acquaintance discovered it was a good-natured hexing, it was rather amusing. Narcissa and I had a good chuckle over his predicament at supper. I rather think you should have listened to Madam Pomfrey's advice and simply let the hex run its course; it likely would have saved you a good deal of trouble and your friend some considerable pain. (Was that blood in a few of those entries?)
I must say that while Mr Weasley's verbal diarrhoea towards Bellatrix was the highlight of the escapade, the most valuable information that the affair disclosed was his insight as to how you are all managing with the quarantine. There is a good reason most of you return home on your holidays, to escape the pressure of communal living. However, there is cause for hope: Mr Rookwood's proposed cure seems to be efficacious in the camps. With luck, expanding the programme will have the worst of the epidemic over by Easter. We may at the least be able to bring pureblood students home, which ought to alleviate some measure of your collective dystopia.
At any rate, he's quite lucky the culprit had no truly malicious intent. Everyone understands the unfortunate effects of an occasional ambush, and birthdays make one an easy target. (You'd asked about presents before; I didn't mention that I received a few items myself one might classify as 'gag gifts.' It's an occupational hazard of getting older.)
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Oh, and thanks. For the card and the chocs, too.
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I must say that while Mr Weasley's verbal diarrhoea towards Bellatrix was the highlight of the escapade, the most valuable information that the affair disclosed was his insight as to how you are all managing with the quarantine. There is a good reason most of you return home on your holidays, to escape the pressure of communal living. However, there is cause for hope: Mr Rookwood's proposed cure seems to be efficacious in the camps. With luck, expanding the programme will have the worst of the epidemic over by Easter. We may at the least be able to bring pureblood students home, which ought to alleviate some measure of your collective dystopia.
At any rate, he's quite lucky the culprit had no truly malicious intent. Everyone understands the unfortunate effects of an occasional ambush, and birthdays make one an easy target. (You'd asked about presents before; I didn't mention that I received a few items myself one might classify as 'gag gifts.' It's an occupational hazard of getting older.)
Have you thought about your electives?
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