I Think It's Time to Repaint

[parvati patil macmillan]

It was around midday on a weekday in early October, and Parvati had just left her office for lunch. The students had been let out of class a short time before, and they had already made their stampede down from the first floor to the Great Hall below it. Hogwarts had never been perfectly still; there was always some sort of movement, even if it was from the portraits that hung on the walls throughout the school. The quiet in the corridor—a relative quiet—was disturbed by the sound of someone's crying.

It was the right floor for the noise to have been coming from Moaning Myrtle, though it wasn't the hollow wailing that usually echoed from the disused lavatory in which the ghost haunted the U-bends of the toilets. This time, the crying was very much human, and it sounded to Parvati as though its source was in one of the classrooms, not the bathroom. Being the school counselor, she didn’t think that it was appropriate for her to continue walking, so she stopped and followed in the direction of the weeping.

Parvati walked quickly but softly until she stopped outside of an empty classroom, its door still open. She could see the person inside, so she rapped the back of her hand against the frame of the door to signal her entry. “Is everything alright?”

[Deleted]

Cuthbert slowly rotated in his spectral form and blew very loudly into his polka-dotted hanky "Ah. Professor MacNamara. It's tragic. Absolutely tragic. Horrific day really. Won't you sit down so I can tell you about it?" He said all this rather blankly and without much emotion as wafted towards a bench, motioning for her to sit. 

He floated a few inches above the seat and began to regale her with his tale, "So there I was, sitting in my dressing room when it happened to occur to me that today was my dear mother's 187th birthday. Can you imagine almost forgetting your own mother's birthday? Well of course, I went straight down to the kitchens and asked the elves for a crumble, that's my mother's favorite you know? The elves really are fascinating creatures. Did you know that in 1189 Grimor the Blane tried to outlaw house elves, of course that didn't last very long. They strung him up a tree, straight away thinking the old man had gone balmy, which he very well had. Who would ever think to dispute the use of house elves? Ah yes, the house elves! So there I was, waiting very patiently for my pudding. They gave me a cup of tea, you know. Earl grey with two sugar cubes, that's how I prefer my tea. It really is the only way. Three and you might as well replace them for wooden ones, don't you think? Anyways, I had my pudding which I was going to bring straight to mother's and wouldn't you know? Peeves set that ridiculous spell across the castle again and I can't seem to leave! I would had performed a counter-jinx but Headmaster Dippet, never did find my wand after it had gone missing. And on top of all of that, I have seemed to have spilled mustard on my shirt again." 

Tag: parvati patil macmillan  

[parvati patil macmillan]

“Professor MacNamara” wasn't the worst Professor Binns could have done, Parvati thought to herself as she entered the classroom, sitting where the ghost professor had indicated. MacNamara was, at least, a surname, which was much closer to her actual name than “Miss Pennyfeather”, the name by which he had called her throughout her time at school. If Parvati were to correct him, she knew full well that he wouldn't remember it, so she let it slide.

He must have lost his concept of time years before she had had him as a professor. His lectures had been positively mind-numbing then, and the yarn that he began to spin to her was no different.

Parvati listened as sympathetically as she could as Professor Binns recounted what had happened. The tale of his mother's birthday would have been understandable, if she had been able to follow along with half of it; the professor went off on one tangent and then another. Finally, she was able to understand his point: Peeves had gotten up to some sort of trouble again, which wasn't that much of a surprise.

She nodded her head, wondering why Professor Binns couldn't just send the pudding via owl post. That, and she wondered how it was possible that he could have gotten mustard—or anything else, for that matter—on his shirt. He was a ghost; wouldn't it have passed right through him? Not wanting to draw the professor's attention to the fact that he was deceased (since it was a point of which the school's ghosts never seemed to be too fond), Parvati instead offered what consolation she could.

“I don't know what to do about the mustard,” she considered, “but couldn't you just take the pudding to the Owlery, Professor?”

@binns

[Deleted]

Cuthbert gawked at the woman before him. Surely she must have gone round the bend. The poor soul. He really must try to the help the young professor. Student's really could be quite terrible in that way. All their shouting and commotion. It was only a matter of time before the keeper becomes like the animals themselves. Thankfully, he had always been extra cautious and kept his wits about him.

He decided to speak more slowly and enunciate this time. "Your.Wand.Madame." Cuthbert gave a reassuring smile and nod then proceeded to puff out his chest to expose his 125+ year old tie stain. He shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to be blinded by the sparks. He once had a classmate go blind that way. While his eyes were kept closed he become to ramble off on the logistics of having an owl carry a 4-tier birthday cake.

"....honestly, there are numerous reasons why an owl is no good for the job. For starters, the cherry filling! You must have forgotten about that. Can you imagine the catastrophe! Cherry cobbler raining from the skies. What ever would the muggles think. It's alright dear, I won't fault you. It really was a good try. And besides, everyone knows that you can't send perishables by parcel! How could you have forgotten about the mandate!?! Especially after the horrid way the Minister passed on. Died sitting right there in the Minister's chair! Thankfully the son seems much more qualified don't you think? Good ole' Tufts. I mean how daft do you really have to be to forget that you're allergic to fudge and then precede to eat said fudge. Barmy woman! Absolutely mad! Have you ever heard of anything so preposterous" 


Tag: parvati patil macmillan