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Draco Malfoy

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Feb 8 [08 Mar 2005|08:30pm]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

Since the quidditch scouts came to the school I've been communicating with Bole, Bletchley, Higgs, and Flint privately to assess the true nature of each of the teams I am interested in playing for. I have no interest in Puddlemere, Appleby, Chudley, or Falmouth, for obvious reasons.

Or, for the less obvious readers: Tracey assures me that Roger Davies is a incompetent fool and that any team for which he plays is to be avoided, which rules Falmouth out. Appleby's home pitch is near York, and after leaving school I would prefer not to live any closer to Scotland than I have to. Puddlemere's old uniforms were mud brown and the fact that they've changed them to blue and gold cannot erase the memory of mud brown. Chudley--well, there's no explanation needed there.

As for the remaining teams, I like the Ballycastle uniforms, and Bole tells me that the live bat mascots often swoop in and tangle up in the hair and robes of those sitting in the visiting team stands. That would certainly be entertaining, but could provide a distraction. Also, Northern Ireland is dreadful. Wimbourne's home pitch is in East Dorset, a much more agreeable locale, and according to Flint the team receives generous donations from Ludo Bagman (though the generosity varies--sometimes he has nothing to offer but his "spirit and support", curiously enough). As such, the team has some of the finest training facilities in all of Britain. The unfortunate side is having to wear Hufflepuff colours. Kenmare's colours are close to Slytherin colours, but once again there is dreadful Ireland to consider, not to mention the irritating Leprechaun mascots. Lastly, we have the Tutshill Tornados, who have been very good as of late and are known for their very bendy skilled Quodpot girls. Playing for a Welsh team was something that did not appeal to me in the past, but I've recently acquired an appreciation for Wales and the Welsh. As it is, I think that Tutshill would be my first pick, followed by Wimbourne, and then Ballycastle and Kenmare tied for third.

Speaking of the Welsh, Tracey, my Mother has told me that she recently dined at Asphodel's and found it a most enjoyable experience. I should relay her words to you soon, perhaps when the eat-a-thon in the common room has subsided (I have a number of sugar quills, as well, should Blaise have depleted your supply).

Everyone else: I have scones. I am not afraid to use them.

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Jan 6: [06 Feb 2005|08:25pm]
[ mood | frustrated ]

I guess we know whose toast is being buttered with this current Ministry, don't we? Sirius Black walks in to the Wizengamont and is a free man in a matter of days, but the Ministry dragged their feet for over a year when it came to returning the Malfoy family fortune to my Mother and myself. Really, if the Minister is going to practise guilt by association, then you'd think he'd remember that Sirius Black is a Black. I suppose the fact that the hat said Gryffindor makes all the difference in such matters, since it makes all the difference in most matters.

My Christmas hols were leisurely and well-spent, if not entirely too short. I don't know about the rest of you, but I've still not recovered from that long summer spent in this stifling castle. Thank lord this particular journey is almost over.

I saw and visited with almost all of the Slytherins over hols, except for Tracey. Hopefully we can make up for that absence soon, yeah? Blaise, I also saw far too little of you. Quite busy elsewhere, I assume.

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Hasn't this gone on long enough? [11 Dec 2004|06:37pm]
[ mood | frustrated ]

I do believe the infamous house swap (which is now LONG over, in case no one has noticed) has made everyone in the castle temporarily barmy. I mean yes, I throw one semi all-house gathering and all those in attendance have a smashing good time, but now everyone and their dog seems to be cobbling together merry social events, all with the feigned generous post-script: 'everyone regardless of house is invited'. I heard two sixth years talking about Gryffindor's little wassail like it was going to demand as much preparation and enthusiasm as a Yule Ball, when in reality I imagine it will amount to a case of low-grade butterbeer, a handful of salty crisps, and some smushy honeydukes.

Personally, I long for the days of old-fashioned house isolation. I liked it better when nobody but the Slytherins knew that Blaise made the best Christmas biscuits in the universe--or actually helped her decorate them with icing, for that matter. I liked it when no one knew what the Slytherin dormitories looked like--or god forbid actually tried to decorate them with fluffy little toss pillows. I liked it better when dating outside Slytherin house was an offence punishable by complete ostracism and a life-long sentence of silent treatment. But now everyone's gone all 'liberal' and soft and wants to dodge around singing Christmas carols and holding hands.

Not me, though. You can keep your ridiculous cheer and good will.

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An open invitation [30 Nov 2004|09:42pm]
[ mood | generous ]

Not everyone knows this, of course--well, all the important people do--but in first through fifth year I was in the practise of throwing a brilliant tea on the first day of every month. All those in Slytherin were in attendance, of course, and the food was so fantastic that it was usually talked about for the rest of the week. In addition to serving the best food, I also provided everyone with unique and thoughtful parting gifts. One month it might be genuine voodoo dolls procured from wizards in the Carribean, and on another it might be serpent-shaped pins with genuine emerald embellishment. Pansy, Blaise... remember that tea in October of fourth year when I gave out the best parting gifts of all?

Anyway, I've decided that it's high time I begin throwing these first-of-the-month tea parties again. I've not thrown one in over a year, after all. So tomorrow at four o'clock there will be tea in the Slytherin common room. All Slytherins are welcome--yes, even those of you who were only sorted into Slytherin for a week during the infamous House Swap. I'd truly hate for you to continue on under the impression that we're oh-so inhospitable. Just leave your pillows and decorative accessories at the dungeon door, if you don't mind.

For inquiring minds, I'll have you know that I plan on serving some of the best food you'll ever lay your lips on in this godforsaken castle. There will be no foie gras, as Weasel has flown South for the winter, but there will be an abundance of truffles, twenty seven different kinds of french, greek, and english cheeses, steak tartare, russian caviar, brioche, lobster canapes with fenugreek garnish, belgian endive with pinenuts, bara brith, both cinnamon and butterscotch creme brulee, scones and lingonberry jam, and plenty of tea.

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The Return [03 Nov 2004|10:52pm]
[ mood | okay ]

In case anyone didn't recognise me upon my return to the castle, I can explain. You see, I spent two days of my generous break in Paris, picking up a few essentials with my Mother. This of course included an entire new school wardrobe for both her and myself. I was rather alarmed to discover that my old robes actually showed my ankles. Someone should have told me--I could have at least made them presentable with a lengthening charm. Not that I dislike my ankles, by any means... it's just that it would be strange and abnormal for a Malfoy to walk around in ill-fitting robes, Weasley-style.

Since Monday was Tracey's birthday, we spent the evening sampling the new Every-flavour Sugar Quills I bought in Diagon Alley. I got an entire case-load, and we wiled away quite a few hours sorting out the hideous flavours from the delicious. My favourites were pineapple, coconut, mango, chocolate mint, marshmallow, kiwi, raspberry, caramel, bubblegum, and tea. The most disgusting were forest mushroom, celery, anise, menthol, tripe, and old shoe. The ones that were just plain odd were tomato, rose, and... fur.

Sometimes I think the Every-flavour enterprise is too enthusiastic about realism. The celery quill actually left stringy bits in my mouth.

I gave Tracey more than just Sugar quills for her birthday, of course. Not that it's anyone's business.

Pansy and Blaise, I hope you enjoyed your gifts. I also bought a never-ending box of chocolate truffles for the rest of the House. They're in the common room. Last I saw, Vince was trying to see if they were really never-ending.

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[25 Oct 2004|04:23pm]
[ mood | indifferent ]

While the five day holiday that the faculty is granting us is a profoundly generous gesture which more than makes up for the months and months and months that we've spent in this abysmal castle with no time off whatsoever, it was unclear in the announcements whether or not students are allowed to remain at school during the aforementioned five days. I would go home, but you see, my house was stolen by the Ministry. I do hope they're enjoying it. Did they play ten-pins on the lawn this summer? Did they go ice-skating on the pond last Christmas? Are they planning how to spend my inheritance from the bowels of my Father's drawing room? Who knows, really.

I for one plan to spend the holiday revising. Everyone is complaining about being behind thanks to lack of sleep and general malaise--a malaise which seems to have mysteriously disappeared overnight, for whatever reason. Almost as mysteriously as Ravenclaw gained some 200 points this Sunday. Many are saying that things "feel so different now". I have to say I have no idea what is meant by this. The castle in these last months has been exactly the same as it has been during my entire residence here. Somewhat less populated, maybe, what with all who were stuck in the hospital wing, but otherwise the same.

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[09 Oct 2004|07:24pm]
[ mood | melancholy ]

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[13 Sep 2004|10:40am]
[ mood | aggravated ]

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Intervention [10 Sep 2004|01:22pm]
[ mood | productive ]

As the Slytherin seventh year prefect, which rightly puts me as second-in-command to the Head Boy, I would like to voice my concern regarding Nathaniel's current execution of duties. Or current lack of execution, I should say.

First, note the glazed expression upon Nathaniel's face when engaging in conversation with his house mates:



Second, note that during lunch today, Nathaniel saw fit to help out Pansy and I with the current school chaos rather than taking his mid-day meal. How did he help, you ask?



By taking a hour-long power snooze back in the dormitory. Typically he always closes his bed hangings while sleeping, but this time he couldn't be bothered, it seemed.

Now I am of course loathe to agree with Granger on any matter, so I recognise that Nathaniel's behaviour is not an intentional shirking of his responsibilities. Nathaniel is generally far too responsible for any thing like that. However, I think his abuse of mind-altering potions should be halted at once, for his own benefit as well as the benefit of his fellow house mates. If he is not careful, he will someday soon be found passed out in the boy's loo, surrounded by empty phials, with drool running down his face. This is certainly not the sort of image that a Slytherin Head Boy should be projecting now, is it?

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[11 Aug 2004|06:19pm]
[ mood | frustrated ]

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Some rearrangements are needed [30 Jul 2004|01:40pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

Today I have decided to officially revoke Blaise Zabini's position within my inner circle of friends and associates. I for one do not think it particularly pleasant nor interesting to be handcuffed to the whomping willow when I'm on my way to conduct important business on the other side of the castle, but apparently Blaise thinks this is perfectly appropriate behaviour to extend toward a friend and housemate. Though perhaps I am remiss in being surprised--this is Blaise we are talking about, after all--and yet I am ENTIRELY OUTRAGED at the loss of my spleen, which was so ravaged as to not be salvageable.

Well Blaise, perhaps you don't think a spleen very significant and would casually leave your own lying around to be sat upon or collect lint in some corner, but I happened to LIKE MINE and demand that you come up with some sort of adequate compensation for the loss of this vital organ.

Perhaps then I will consider allowing you back into the fold.

Aside from the premature death of my spleen, I am bruised and find it difficult to move my head to the right. Pansy, I wondered if you would agree to sit by my right side for a few days and report to me about what is happening over there. It would be much easier than pivoting my entire body around every time I wish to see in that direction.

Peripheral vision is not as stellar as it ought to be.

I am tired. I really don't want to see anyone before dinner except for Tracey.

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[20 Jul 2004|10:35am]
[ mood | thoughtful ]

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Vulture Hunt [13 Jul 2004|10:46am]
[ mood | apathetic ]

I need someone who has:

1. Has ridden an elephant.
2. Has a wand made of holly.
3. Is an Animagus.
4. Has a family member in a different House from theirs.
5. Does not like to swim.
6. Is the youngest child in their family.
7. Can speak a language other than English (and spell-Latin does not count!)
8. Has their own owl.
9. Plays a musical instrument.
10. Does not like chocolate.
11. Has a tattoo.
12. Has been to a country outside the British Isles and Europe.

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Crowned the King of Pain [10 Jul 2004|01:06am]
[ mood | accomplished ]

Since Blaise is terrified at the thought of playing seeker on the summer Quidditch league I helpfully pointed out to her that if she could simply learn to bear the pain, she would be well on her way to leaning the basics of seekerdom. This led to an intense argument over who suffered more injuries, beaters or seekers. I think it is quite obvious that seekers are at the most risk for injuries; bludgers are aimed at them most often, after all, and no one aims bludgers at beaters. They are the ones lobbing the stupid bludgers at us. That is all they do, really... lob bludgers and fly in weak, insipid little circles. They are lucky they are even credited as members of the team, really.

Since my argument with Blaise could not be solved by words alone, we've spent most of this evening having a King of Pain contest. The object of the contest is to see who can sustain the most pain without actually being injured. So far we've fallen from a collapsing staircase, used treacle pudding to coax Goyle into sitting on us, hurdled over the common room chesterfields, and dangled from the wrought-iron candelabra in the dungeon corridor. I swear I detect a limp in Blaise's step--she has a bad knee that she refuses to admit to--but otherwise it seems we are at an impasse. Blaise's constitution is, it would seem, similar to that of a cockroach's. Nothing penetrates that thick, scaly carapace of hers, though I have yet to test out the bottom of my shoe.

That is next on my agenda.

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[06 Jul 2004|01:34pm]
[ mood | cranky ]

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Appalling, really. [21 Jun 2004|02:58pm]
[ mood | artistic ]

Last night I discovered, much to my outrage, that Potter and I have a user icon in common. It is a depiction of Potter flying during a lightning storm, being fried by lightning repeatedly, and in general features him in his usual unflattering light. Why Potter would keep and memorialise this rude but brilliant drawing is beyond me, and when I asked him he pretended to act as if he found the drawing funny. Since I knew he was pretending, I quickly deduced he was actually quite offended, and informed him of this deduction. He then pretended to be offended. And then, worse yet, he pretended to pretend. At this point I decided I'd had enough of his pathological pretending and set out to offend him once and for all. I dare say I've made certain he will have NO need to pretend this time around.





Because I know some of you will want to memorialise my new drawing for yourself, I've gone to the trouble of making some journal icons for the public to partake of.





As you can see, my artistic skills have improved dramatically since 3rd year. One wonders why I'm not hailed for my artistry more often.

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Well, how could anything else top this bit of news? [19 Jun 2004|02:33pm]
[ mood | bored ]

So much for a quiet, peaceful weekend. The muggleborns who have been newly-magicked are gamboling about the castle shooting off little bursts of red and blue coloured sparks in some sort of irritating celebration ritual. I suggested to one particularly runny-nosed 2nd year Hufflepuff that he consider convincing his companions into practise hexes on one another as a means of getting their chops back. Hopefully he will take my advice and they will all soon be rendered unconscious and blissfully silent.

I went to Madam Pomfrey to take my weekly vitamin supplement at precisely 10 o'clock this morning. The recently-rescued Weasel (animal, not goose) was stretched out on a gurney, moaning quite dramatically and clutching his skull. Which is really quite interesting because I previously had no inkling that he was capable of being injured in this area. One wonders, then, exactly what it was he went through and endured during his however-long disappearance. Near death, perhaps? A bit of torture? Or did he suffer mere discomfort and is hamming it up for the sake of tea and sympathy?

Either way, I'm sure we'll hear all about it sooner rather than later.

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This will not do [16 Jun 2004|09:32pm]
[ mood | bored ]

Excuse me, but rumours that I have spent time embodying the visage of a slug are entirely untrue and unfounded; in addition, I have never once been slimey or even associated with slime in any form, unless one counts my past stint tutoring Longbottom and Potter in potions.

I'm told that people are getting back their magic or somesuch. To quote a respected elder of mine: "I see no difference".

Pansy, you have been dipping into my potions stores again. I expect my two grammes of anise to be returned to me by the end of the week.

Dorian, I will thank you to quit encouraging Nott to poke Weasel with that vile stick of his.

Goyle, what is this brown stuff you've treaded around the dormitory?

Millicent, I owe you thanks. Remind me of this tomorrow.

Warrington, I will join in the chorus of congratulations that you've already been offered. I can think of no one, other than myself, more suited to the job of Head Boy. Should you need any advise or instruction in going about your new post, do let me know.

Tracey, I might have an idea of how to put the extra Sauternes to good use, if you are at all interested.

Blaise, do not even think about it.

59 comments|post comment

[15 Jun 2004|02:53pm]
[ mood | aggravated ]

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Waterfowl is no match for me. [28 May 2004|12:16pm]
[ mood | triumphant ]

I'm sure Potter thinks himself very clever to have put his goose out on the LAKE. Perhaps he thought I wouldn't pay much attention to it in its natural habitat, but as I took my after-lunch walk on the South lawn I immediately heard a faint honking sound and knew it could only be coming from Potter's trained attack goose.

WELL, your goose is cooked now, Potter. It wasn't particularly wily or vicious at all; as soon as I ran into the lake it tried in vain to fly away but a quick Accio goose! took care of that nicely.



As you can see, I have caged your goose and am busy feeding it cream and nougat. It should have a plump liver in no time, and I will have procured myself a tasty foie gras d'oie.

Of course, if you miss your goose companion that much I suppose an arrangement could be made. 250 galleons buys you the safe return of your goose, Potter. Plump liver and all.

Also, you owe me two new buttons for my robes, as your goose chewed them off and ate them.

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