Saturday 12 September, 1942; later
Dumbledore is headmaster. A few days ago I would have been considerably happier about it, but it can't be worse than what went before. I hope. We're very short-handed for patrol tonight, I very much hope that no one tries to take advantage of it. Far too many of the students are being unbelievably stupid about the drills and buddy system, and far too many of those are in my House.
Otherwise, well. I shan't flatter myself into thinking that I have composed the most awkward mash note ever produced in this school - I can hardly begin to aspire to such heights. But I do wish that I'd done a couple more drafts before letting the owl go.
Is two Hogsmeades weekends and lunch on the train and prefect meetings at the Gryffindor table and breaking my leg rather than going to the Mulcibers "walking out"? I suppose it might be. Except this is Charis Malfoy, and how serious can it be for her, I wonder? I don't know that tea every second Saturday is what she'd normally consider a satisfactory relationship.
Otherwise, well. I shan't flatter myself into thinking that I have composed the most awkward mash note ever produced in this school - I can hardly begin to aspire to such heights. But I do wish that I'd done a couple more drafts before letting the owl go.
Is two Hogsmeades weekends and lunch on the train and prefect meetings at the Gryffindor table and breaking my leg rather than going to the Mulcibers "walking out"? I suppose it might be. Except this is Charis Malfoy, and how serious can it be for her, I wonder? I don't know that tea every second Saturday is what she'd normally consider a satisfactory relationship.