Ah, the Ball approaches.
I appear to have naught to do with the Ball this year. This represents very little change from the usual; I do not think that I've attended past the first fifteen minutes of any Ball at Hogwarts since my first year as a student.
It has seemed to me, in recent years, that this time is more suited to introspection than to celebration. The days are getting short, green growing things are fading into brown, and the wind is developing its inevitable chill. It is not a time to dance, for me; it is the slow death of a year, and a certain solemnity surrounds it. I take these few days to mark the things I wish I could have done this year, to remember things I must do differently in the future.
So, students, with all of the hubbub surrounding the Ball, have you been keeping up with your reading? Please, do tell me that you have. I should hate to have to assign any further work so close to the big event.
That's all.
It has seemed to me, in recent years, that this time is more suited to introspection than to celebration. The days are getting short, green growing things are fading into brown, and the wind is developing its inevitable chill. It is not a time to dance, for me; it is the slow death of a year, and a certain solemnity surrounds it. I take these few days to mark the things I wish I could have done this year, to remember things I must do differently in the future.
So, students, with all of the hubbub surrounding the Ball, have you been keeping up with your reading? Please, do tell me that you have. I should hate to have to assign any further work so close to the big event.
That's all.