Hello, son, good to hear from you, and thanks for giving us a brief report on how the beginning of school is going for you. Yes, I've heard from a couple of different sources that Professor Brutka is a very good Transfiguration teacher, so that situation can only be a win. What do you think of the newest member on staff, Professor Dolohov? I would be very curious to get your and Ginny's impressions.
I detected some hints from Fred and George that you may be thinking of going out for Quidditch this year. What positions are open? You'd prefer to play Keeper if there's an opening, right? Is there one this year? Well, if you do give it a try, I certainly wish you the best, son. Goodness knows with all the games of pickup Quidditch you've played with your brothers and Ginny, it would stand to reason that you would have just as much experience as any other hopeful candidates. If you do try for it, I wish you the best with all my heart. I plan to keep up my custom and proudly wear my old Gryffindor jersey on game days (even if your Mum keeps telling me it's only fit for the rag bag.)
We did hear from Charlie, just yesterday in fact. He's sporting a nasty burn on the back of his right hand, he says, but he's as happy as a salamander in a kiln because they've managed to nurse back from her injuries that Hebridean Black he's been fussing over (the one that was in that skirmish with two Welsh greens a couple of months ago). She's managed to mate and has a new clutch of eggs. Your mum has been moaning to me privately that the only grandchildren she can expect from Charlie will probably be dragons. He does seem more preoccupied with them than with his own species, and of course, there are perilously few opportunities for him to date on the Reserve. I don't think any plans have been made for Christmas yet, but I think that Charlie would prefer to join us at the Burrow, if it'll be allowed (and doesn't leave them short-staffed). I think he should be able to tell us one way or another in about a month.
I saw a couple of gnomes scurrying around amongst the cabbages this morning when I went out to lock up the goats. They're certainly getting bold again (the gnomes, I mean; the goats are ALWAYS bold), now that you, Fred, George and Ginny aren't around to spin them around and chuck them over the fence.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2012-09-09 06:51 pm (UTC)I detected some hints from Fred and George that you may be thinking of going out for Quidditch this year. What positions are open? You'd prefer to play Keeper if there's an opening, right? Is there one this year? Well, if you do give it a try, I certainly wish you the best, son. Goodness knows with all the games of pickup Quidditch you've played with your brothers and Ginny, it would stand to reason that you would have just as much experience as any other hopeful candidates. If you do try for it, I wish you the best with all my heart. I plan to keep up my custom and proudly wear my old Gryffindor jersey on game days (even if your Mum keeps telling me it's only fit for the rag bag.)
We did hear from Charlie, just yesterday in fact. He's sporting a nasty burn on the back of his right hand, he says, but he's as happy as a salamander in a kiln because they've managed to nurse back from her injuries that Hebridean Black he's been fussing over (the one that was in that skirmish with two Welsh greens a couple of months ago). She's managed to mate and has a new clutch of eggs. Your mum has been moaning to me privately that the only grandchildren she can expect from Charlie will probably be dragons. He does seem more preoccupied with them than with his own species, and of course, there are perilously few opportunities for him to date on the Reserve. I don't think any plans have been made for Christmas yet, but I think that Charlie would prefer to join us at the Burrow, if it'll be allowed (and doesn't leave them short-staffed). I think he should be able to tell us one way or another in about a month.
I saw a couple of gnomes scurrying around amongst the cabbages this morning when I went out to lock up the goats. They're certainly getting bold again (the gnomes, I mean; the goats are ALWAYS bold), now that you, Fred, George and Ginny aren't around to spin them around and chuck them over the fence.
Good to hear from you, son. Love from,
Dad