No, it's all right. It's probably my fault first for not coming up with anything worse than making him think I fancied Professor Lestrange and then for not being worried enough when he was talking to me. Only I was so much more worried about--other things. I thought I'd fooled him at the time but he must have decided differently later.
Right. Professor Carrow.... I'm not sure what to suggest, either. It can't be sexual because I had that spell on me for so long. I'd rather not say something like he made me eat cat food or live rats or something like that because what if Nott decides to try it?
Maybe we could say that he once made me and Terry strip naked and serve him and Miss Professor Carrow dinner. With any luck, Nott will find that image so gross and horrifying he won't be interested in a reenactment.
And Hydra--I'm so sorry he's being such a loathsome little cockroach. Maybe we should make sure that Crabbe and Goyle put him in St Mungo's. (Sorry, Madam P.)
Or.... Do you suppose we could beat him at his own game? He's trying to blackmail me, but Hydra, you said he sounded oddly fascinated, too. What if we wrote his father informing Mr Nott that Teddy's been sniffing after me, and not in a wholesome, mudblood-hating, patriotic sort of way? We could send an owl tonight. We'd still have to deal with this situation but maybe over Easter holidays his father will find the right way to frighten him into settling down.
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2014-04-09 01:32 (UTC)Right. Professor Carrow.... I'm not sure what to suggest, either. It can't be sexual because I had that spell on me for so long. I'd rather not say something like he made me eat cat food or live rats or something like that because what if Nott decides to try it?
Maybe we could say that he once made me and Terry strip naked and serve him and Miss Professor Carrow dinner. With any luck, Nott will find that image so gross and horrifying he won't be interested in a reenactment.
And Hydra--I'm so sorry he's being such a loathsome little cockroach. Maybe we should make sure that Crabbe and Goyle put him in St Mungo's. (Sorry, Madam P.)
Or.... Do you suppose we could beat him at his own game? He's trying to blackmail me, but Hydra, you said he sounded oddly fascinated, too. What if we wrote his father informing Mr Nott that Teddy's been sniffing after me, and not in a wholesome, mudblood-hating, patriotic sort of way? We could send an owl tonight. We'd still have to deal with this situation but maybe over Easter holidays his father will find the right way to frighten him into settling down.