MEMOS
I OFFICIALLY hate Weasleys… well, the twin versions, anyway.
What delights have they had in store for you today?
Delights? Are you mad?
Yes. Happily so, in fact.
You are far too happy.
Now, now, Minerva. Just because you are not in the best of spirits, that does not mean that you have to bring everybody else down into your pit of self-inflicted anguish.
Self-inflicted? I'll have you know this is a Weasley-inflicted trauma, thank you very much!
I disagree; you could just as easily let it go as let it stew and bubble over into a vat of anger.
Now we both know that is not true. Besides, how would you like it if they placed a lunch box on your desk in the morning -
I think I would find that quite pleasant, actually. Lovely boys when they put their minds to it, aren't they?
I didn't tell you what they put in it yet.
A succulent bacon sandwich?
A carton of milk -
Well that's not too bad…
A tin of cold tuna.
You could make a nice salad with that…
And a dying mouse.
Oh dear.
Not even a dead mouse! A dying mouse.
There is no need to highlight your words, I do possess sufficient reading skill and can tell the inflection of your tone from the density of your quill markings.
Why so flowery on the vocabulary front today, Albus?
I just had a meeting with the dear old Minister and hence I feel rather superior in the intelligence department on this fine afternoon.
Albus?
Yes, my dear?
Shut up, you fool!