(no subject)
Extra, extra, Hogwarts. Looking for details on the latest Potter scandal? Read all about it. Potter has stepped down from his pedestal and invited someone to the ball. And who could it possibly be? Are you teetering off the edge of your seat in anticipation quite yet? Why, Granger, of course! Talk about heroics! Does the bravery never end? Oh, yes, when they made Potter, they broke the mould!
Then, they found the mould maker, dragged him out into the street, and stabbed him.
Repeatedly.
So, according to the Weasel's journal, Potter has asked Granger to the ball. How unsurprising. It's horribly predictable that he would ask a Mudblood--and of all Mudbloods, Granger--to a ball. Golly, the saviour of the wizarding world sure can pick them, can't he? One of Hogsmeade's top ten eligible bachelors, according to Witch Weekly, and his top choice for dance partner? Granger. Har har.
Evidently, Potter has taste equivalent to that of a paper bag. What kind of person would invite Granger to a ball? What kind of person would invite a Mudblood with huge teeth and frizzy hair to a ball? What kind of person would want to be seen with that?
Of course, it's not as though any date could make Potter look good. His hair is oily, it's never combed, and his charm is crippled at best. He scuttles about like he owns the place, meanwhile he's got a spot on his temple and his glasses break twice a week because his equilibrium is apparently so unbalanced that the boy can't walk without falling nose first into the ground. He's clumsier than Millicent, and that is saying something.
And don't think we've forgotten your elegant dance styles of yesteryear, Potter. I'm quite sure they haven't changed a bit. Two left feet, both on the ground and in the air. Please, put us all out of our misery and don't go to the ball at all. I haven't the stomach to handle seeing you attempt to cut a rug with Hogwarts' ugliest of females. I haven't the stomach to see you attempting to dance at all, actually, but it will surely be worse with that hairball hanging off of you. Will Mrs Norris have to vomit up some grease for Granger's hair so the two of you can fit in the Hall?
I'd never realised Potter was such a snivelling submissive, but I reckon one would have to be to have any sort of attraction towards a bossy know-it-all like Granger. Obviously that's the only thing that one could possibly see in her, and if that's the sort of thing that rocks your boat, by all means get out of my line of vision. In fact, if you see anything in Granger at all, go throw yourself in the lake and make company with the Giant Squid. Surely no one would be able to tell the difference between a squid and Granger, right?
It's not even as though she puts out, either. I'm rather certain she's harder to get into than Durmstrang. Probably still has bows on her britches. I'm trying to imagine her with a personality, I really am, but I can't work miracles.
The girl spends 23 hours out of her day behind a book, and the last hour is spent doing lord knows what--probably coming up with ways to bewitch all the boys in this school to forget about her inevitable lice. That is what Rita Skeeter reported about Granger a few years back, isn't it? That she was working love potions? Perhaps that's what happened to Potter. It would certainly explain why Granger's always so busy in the library, too. Yeah, Granger, you can hide behind your tomes, but I know what you're really doing back there.
And you know, everyone's always going on about Granger being so intelligent just because she gets the highest marks in school. If she's so clever, why wasn't she sorted into Ravenclaw? Anyone can memorise facts from books, and that's all that Granger does. It doesn't make her any different than the lot of us. The rest of us just have real lives. We're a bit too busy to sit around memorising the whole of our textbooks.
And of course, being a Mudblood, you'd have to memorise every inch of text, wouldn't you? After all, being raised with Muggles surely gives you a disadvantage here among the rest of us. You know, the real wizards. Go back where you came from, Granger. You don't belong here.
Granger is a sodding nightmare. Even the rest of her house wants to throttle her. And for once, I'm in agreement. After all, who can blame them? She's got her nose turned so far in the air she can hardly see to walk, and heaven knows what would happen if she realised that books don't count as friends.
And another thing. Have you noticed that Mudbloods always tend to have horrible skin problems? Granger's been trying to keep it a secret, you see, but I saw her buried to her nose in acne books last week. I've a feeling there's more to her than meets the eye. Perhaps a good revealer would show the truth about Granger's complexion.
Not that Potter's is any better. Although, I think he might actually be better suited with Eloise Midgen. Perhaps the three of them could go together. Oh, what a mental picture that is.
I think what it is is that Potter wishes he was a Mudblood himself. Granted, he hasn't the purest blood in school, but if he was strictly a Mudblood, then he could martyr himself even more. And of course, if he really had been a Mudblood, everyone would've been creaming their trousers over him even more. That's all Potter wants, you know. A bit more pity to fuel his bored little life. So, since he can't change his blood, he goes for the next best thing, attmepting to shag one.
Really, though, a better pair, I cannot think of. Potter the Wonder Dog and Granger, his barking sidekick. I can only imagine what the children would be like. A load of mouth-breathers, the lot of them.
But fear not, hormonal females of Hogwarts. The Boy You Lived to Worship is still out on the market. For Granger has turned him down.
I haven't the slightest idea what Granger was thinking when she made that particular move. Did she, perhaps, think that someone else was going to ask her to the ball? That she was leaving her options open?
As though anyone would want to go to the ball with her. Oh, right, Granger is a girl of great intelligence. She just happens to have the conversational finesse of a fish stick.
Oh, and incidentally, for those who were wondering how Potter managed to miraculously survive an assault from You-Know-Who at the tender age of bed-wetting, look no further. I've solved the blasted puzzle.
It was no miracle. Potter was the answer to a prayer, you see.
The Dark Lord prayed that the world would be made to suffer, and here Potter came along. Sending the world spiralling headfirst into a tornado of doom.
Then, they found the mould maker, dragged him out into the street, and stabbed him.
Repeatedly.
So, according to the Weasel's journal, Potter has asked Granger to the ball. How unsurprising. It's horribly predictable that he would ask a Mudblood--and of all Mudbloods, Granger--to a ball. Golly, the saviour of the wizarding world sure can pick them, can't he? One of Hogsmeade's top ten eligible bachelors, according to Witch Weekly, and his top choice for dance partner? Granger. Har har.
Evidently, Potter has taste equivalent to that of a paper bag. What kind of person would invite Granger to a ball? What kind of person would invite a Mudblood with huge teeth and frizzy hair to a ball? What kind of person would want to be seen with that?
Of course, it's not as though any date could make Potter look good. His hair is oily, it's never combed, and his charm is crippled at best. He scuttles about like he owns the place, meanwhile he's got a spot on his temple and his glasses break twice a week because his equilibrium is apparently so unbalanced that the boy can't walk without falling nose first into the ground. He's clumsier than Millicent, and that is saying something.
And don't think we've forgotten your elegant dance styles of yesteryear, Potter. I'm quite sure they haven't changed a bit. Two left feet, both on the ground and in the air. Please, put us all out of our misery and don't go to the ball at all. I haven't the stomach to handle seeing you attempt to cut a rug with Hogwarts' ugliest of females. I haven't the stomach to see you attempting to dance at all, actually, but it will surely be worse with that hairball hanging off of you. Will Mrs Norris have to vomit up some grease for Granger's hair so the two of you can fit in the Hall?
I'd never realised Potter was such a snivelling submissive, but I reckon one would have to be to have any sort of attraction towards a bossy know-it-all like Granger. Obviously that's the only thing that one could possibly see in her, and if that's the sort of thing that rocks your boat, by all means get out of my line of vision. In fact, if you see anything in Granger at all, go throw yourself in the lake and make company with the Giant Squid. Surely no one would be able to tell the difference between a squid and Granger, right?
It's not even as though she puts out, either. I'm rather certain she's harder to get into than Durmstrang. Probably still has bows on her britches. I'm trying to imagine her with a personality, I really am, but I can't work miracles.
The girl spends 23 hours out of her day behind a book, and the last hour is spent doing lord knows what--probably coming up with ways to bewitch all the boys in this school to forget about her inevitable lice. That is what Rita Skeeter reported about Granger a few years back, isn't it? That she was working love potions? Perhaps that's what happened to Potter. It would certainly explain why Granger's always so busy in the library, too. Yeah, Granger, you can hide behind your tomes, but I know what you're really doing back there.
And you know, everyone's always going on about Granger being so intelligent just because she gets the highest marks in school. If she's so clever, why wasn't she sorted into Ravenclaw? Anyone can memorise facts from books, and that's all that Granger does. It doesn't make her any different than the lot of us. The rest of us just have real lives. We're a bit too busy to sit around memorising the whole of our textbooks.
And of course, being a Mudblood, you'd have to memorise every inch of text, wouldn't you? After all, being raised with Muggles surely gives you a disadvantage here among the rest of us. You know, the real wizards. Go back where you came from, Granger. You don't belong here.
Granger is a sodding nightmare. Even the rest of her house wants to throttle her. And for once, I'm in agreement. After all, who can blame them? She's got her nose turned so far in the air she can hardly see to walk, and heaven knows what would happen if she realised that books don't count as friends.
And another thing. Have you noticed that Mudbloods always tend to have horrible skin problems? Granger's been trying to keep it a secret, you see, but I saw her buried to her nose in acne books last week. I've a feeling there's more to her than meets the eye. Perhaps a good revealer would show the truth about Granger's complexion.
Not that Potter's is any better. Although, I think he might actually be better suited with Eloise Midgen. Perhaps the three of them could go together. Oh, what a mental picture that is.
I think what it is is that Potter wishes he was a Mudblood himself. Granted, he hasn't the purest blood in school, but if he was strictly a Mudblood, then he could martyr himself even more. And of course, if he really had been a Mudblood, everyone would've been creaming their trousers over him even more. That's all Potter wants, you know. A bit more pity to fuel his bored little life. So, since he can't change his blood, he goes for the next best thing, attmepting to shag one.
Really, though, a better pair, I cannot think of. Potter the Wonder Dog and Granger, his barking sidekick. I can only imagine what the children would be like. A load of mouth-breathers, the lot of them.
But fear not, hormonal females of Hogwarts. The Boy You Lived to Worship is still out on the market. For Granger has turned him down.
I haven't the slightest idea what Granger was thinking when she made that particular move. Did she, perhaps, think that someone else was going to ask her to the ball? That she was leaving her options open?
As though anyone would want to go to the ball with her. Oh, right, Granger is a girl of great intelligence. She just happens to have the conversational finesse of a fish stick.
Oh, and incidentally, for those who were wondering how Potter managed to miraculously survive an assault from You-Know-Who at the tender age of bed-wetting, look no further. I've solved the blasted puzzle.
It was no miracle. Potter was the answer to a prayer, you see.
The Dark Lord prayed that the world would be made to suffer, and here Potter came along. Sending the world spiralling headfirst into a tornado of doom.