Incendio
This morning was the first day I was allowed to light the fires by myself. My Dad thought I had the experience and I was old enough now that I was ten. When we got to the House at dawn, I got to hand in my coat myself. They scanned us before we went in. I don't understand that. We come in every day through snow and howling wind before dawn in winter to light their fireplaces and make their house nice and warm before they wake up, but they still think that we would bring in stuff to blow up their house with. That's stupid. If we blew up their house we would starve to death. The first few fires started without incident. I love the jet that jumps out of my wand into the fire place. It's really pretty. Sometimes when I'm lighting the fires I think how lucky Dad and I are to know how to do Incendio. Without it, we would freeze like so many other people in winter. My fifth fireplace wouldn't catch, and then my spell was too powerful and the fire too big and the big rug on the wall got black marks all over it. I hope the maids can clean it before the Rich People find it and blame my Dad and me.
Diffindo
More wood, more wood, cutting all the day. Friends think monotony has gone to my head. Maybe it has. Maybe not. Every day, every day, Diffindo, Diffindo, Diffindo. Maybe the late night drinking has an effect. Maybe it has. Maybe not. Every night, every night, write and drink, write and drink. Almost lost another young one today. Idiot made his spell too casual, in the wrong direction, split the bottom of his pile instead. Logs falling down, all over the ground. Logs on his legs, no more legs. Idiot never listened. Must wait for the top log to be lifted down, the cut straight through the centre, then centre again. Rough logs, straight lines. Not cut the bottom log and watch the pile fall on you. The lads from Mungo's came and scraped him off the ground, picked the logs off his legs, pulled his legs from the logs. Hope he'll live. Can't afford to hire another one. Wish they'd listen to me. Careful where the spell lands, logs don't heal themselves you know. Only get one cut. Bad cut, no money, no drink, no drink, old Victor goes funny in the head. Must cut the logs straight. Straight clean nice cuts. Nice cuts is good, makes the customers happy. Must make customers happy. I need another drink.
Flipendo
We got an interesting call around lunch today. A young apprentice wood-chopper had a pile of hardwood logs fall onto him. Apparently he had accidentally cast his Diffindo spell a little too quickly and with too much power. Whatever happened, the huge bottom log got split nicely in two and the rest of the pile came crashing down onto the poor devils legs. We had to use a few Flipendo spells to lift the logs off of him. Wingardium Leviosa might have been more helpful, or at least more controlled, but he was losing too much blood for us to worry about being gentle. Thankfully our Flipendo spells made short work of moving the massively heavy logs for us so we could treat the boy. We stabilised him as best we could to transport him and flew him back to St. Mungo's for proper treatment on his legs and a couple of blood-replenishing potions. The damage those logs did might mean he loses a leg or two, but our doctors will be able to fix them so he can go back to work when his legs are better. Hopefully this accident will teach him to be more careful about wildly casting spells without thinking.
