April Fools.
I suppose it would befit me to update after what has been quite the uneventful week. After all, what else are you lot expected to do with your time? Apparently making scarves is at the top of that list. Though I fail to see how useful scarves are expected to be in approximately one month's time, I do, I suppose, appreciate the gesture. Especially after Weasley successfully decimated mine many months ago as a direct result of the ill-fated Potions partnership. I'm honestly not sure how he came to be in NEWT potions, but rest assured he does not belong there. Unfortunately he has decided to show up this week, and no amount of coercion on my part has managed to convince him that it is still Easter holidays. Not for lack of trying, however. I must note that he has been especially quiet as of late, and we have, remarkably, made it through an entire week of classes without incident. My cauldron is nearly as shocked as I am.
Blaise, darling, only a few more days now. Though it saddens me that the rest of you cretins will fail to appreciate our genius, I suppose I'll take comfort in the immediate shift in perception of others that will occur. It seems Hogwarts is due some entertainment, and I, as a charitable young man, feel it is my duty to provide.
I have never been fond of Shakespeare, I must admit. Though I have often felt as though such a love presents itself as part and parcel of an academic repertoire, I have never found his plays, or indeed, his poetry, to be particularly impressive. I hardly see how the use of such an outdated vernacular should impress me, though his sense of tragedy seems to be spot on. Perhaps I haven't been listening to enough Bright Wands to appreciate the beauty in such depression, but I'm afraid I haven't the palate for it at the present.
Blaise, darling, only a few more days now. Though it saddens me that the rest of you cretins will fail to appreciate our genius, I suppose I'll take comfort in the immediate shift in perception of others that will occur. It seems Hogwarts is due some entertainment, and I, as a charitable young man, feel it is my duty to provide.
I have never been fond of Shakespeare, I must admit. Though I have often felt as though such a love presents itself as part and parcel of an academic repertoire, I have never found his plays, or indeed, his poetry, to be particularly impressive. I hardly see how the use of such an outdated vernacular should impress me, though his sense of tragedy seems to be spot on. Perhaps I haven't been listening to enough Bright Wands to appreciate the beauty in such depression, but I'm afraid I haven't the palate for it at the present.