il che cambia del marea

[blaising_fury]

I was just reading a book -- for I am one who does indeed enjoy the act of reading in my free time. I dozed off for but a second, as I occasionally do at this time of the evening, and the book fell from my hands to the floor. As I bent over to pick it up, I noticed that the book was more or less the exact same shape and size as the stone in the flooring. In a second's time I also noticed that the book's spine was the same width as the space between the stones. I am not typically one who is aware of the synchronisity between humans and their surroundings unless they announce themselves in a way such as this. I am reminded of how the Forbidden Forest seems nothing more than a chaotic riot of overgrown foliage from the ground, but asserts itself into a more uniform and sensible mapping of dark greens and browns when seen from above. Perhaps there is an order to all that surrounds us after all. It is a comforting thought to some, but reminds me all too much of my Father, who firmly believes that there is little use in attempting to change the order of things. My Father would rather read about change than attempt change himself. I do not know if this is the 'way' of all Ravenclaws, but it is surely the way of all Zabinis who are Ravenclaws.

My Father and I often disagree. I am not bothered by it.

I am bothered, however, by one Filch, Argus, who it seems has decided to hold a grudge against me for his lack of luck on Saint Valentine's Day. Thrice now he has accused me of having tracked mud into the Great Hall, and his cat has taken to trailing me as I make my way to the library, hissing and spitting at my perfectly clean and mud-less feet.