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Order Only: Back in the Thick of It
Jan. 7th, 2010 10:49 amI suppose it was predictable. Ever since the first group of halfbloods returned at the end of last week, I've been kept hopping. I don't believe the holiday helped allay stress at all: I'm seeing far more than the usual number of upset tummies and weak digestive tracts, and every night the Prefects bring me more children stricken with evil dreams, sleepwalking, and bedwetting. Just this morning I've had a student, fully awake, who wet himself because Peeves popped out of a suit of armour just behind him in a dim corridor. The poor thing needed to be sedated.
And then there are the children who are certain, regardless of official assurances, that they are doomed to fall ill of the Scourge because they had some contact, however superficial or distant, with a muggle or muggleborn person over the holidays. And bless them, they could be right. I've interviewed each of them and have assigned three of them beds here at the farthest end of the ward, though I do not believe that any of them is suffering from anything more than a touch of flu and a very heavy burden of anxiety. All three report aches and all are mildly feverish, but from all we've heard, I'd expect much more dramatic symptoms were it really the dreaded mystery ailment--particularly as it seems the disease has become more vehement each time it's crossed into a new segment of the population.
I shall be very grateful if we reach the end of the month and have no cases of the disease here. At that point, we should have passed the danger that someone could be incubating the illness in our midst.
I've still heard nothing about Antigone Cantwell. I do wish they'd release a list of those they've arrested or those they intend to try. It's dreadfully unsettling to have no news of her. Of course, she might well have been released immediately, or she might never have been arrested at all. I suppose I'll have to content myself with the hope that no news is good news. It's difficult to place faith in that old adage in these times, however.
Sadly, it seems my friend Aurora Sinistra is suffering a similar sort of anxiety for a friend of hers. Over tea Sunday, she confided that she'd had an owl returned unanswered from a friend who is a regular correspondent of hers, a young man who is presently working as a research assistant to an astronomer somewhere in the northern highlands. She says she heard from him after Christmas, but then sent him some information he'd requested only to have the owl return with its message unopened. She's tried by post and through the journals but has heard nary a word, and she maintains that's utterly unlike him. What worries her most is that he's a halfblood, and she knows enough to understand that the Ministry's assurances may, in fact, signal a real reason to fear. (It's a terrible thing to say under the circumstances, but I am pleased to see her question the official line.) I asked her this morning at breakfast, and she confirmed that she's still had no word at all. Poor thing, I believe he might be rather more dear to her than she's willing to admit.
Speaking of people from whom a bit of reassurance would be soothing, I trust that all is well with each of you, but especially with Sirius, Kingsley, and our friends at the Sanctuary. I'm afraid that when very many days go by with no word from you, I do begin to fret.
And then there are the children who are certain, regardless of official assurances, that they are doomed to fall ill of the Scourge because they had some contact, however superficial or distant, with a muggle or muggleborn person over the holidays. And bless them, they could be right. I've interviewed each of them and have assigned three of them beds here at the farthest end of the ward, though I do not believe that any of them is suffering from anything more than a touch of flu and a very heavy burden of anxiety. All three report aches and all are mildly feverish, but from all we've heard, I'd expect much more dramatic symptoms were it really the dreaded mystery ailment--particularly as it seems the disease has become more vehement each time it's crossed into a new segment of the population.
I shall be very grateful if we reach the end of the month and have no cases of the disease here. At that point, we should have passed the danger that someone could be incubating the illness in our midst.
I've still heard nothing about Antigone Cantwell. I do wish they'd release a list of those they've arrested or those they intend to try. It's dreadfully unsettling to have no news of her. Of course, she might well have been released immediately, or she might never have been arrested at all. I suppose I'll have to content myself with the hope that no news is good news. It's difficult to place faith in that old adage in these times, however.
Sadly, it seems my friend Aurora Sinistra is suffering a similar sort of anxiety for a friend of hers. Over tea Sunday, she confided that she'd had an owl returned unanswered from a friend who is a regular correspondent of hers, a young man who is presently working as a research assistant to an astronomer somewhere in the northern highlands. She says she heard from him after Christmas, but then sent him some information he'd requested only to have the owl return with its message unopened. She's tried by post and through the journals but has heard nary a word, and she maintains that's utterly unlike him. What worries her most is that he's a halfblood, and she knows enough to understand that the Ministry's assurances may, in fact, signal a real reason to fear. (It's a terrible thing to say under the circumstances, but I am pleased to see her question the official line.) I asked her this morning at breakfast, and she confirmed that she's still had no word at all. Poor thing, I believe he might be rather more dear to her than she's willing to admit.
Speaking of people from whom a bit of reassurance would be soothing, I trust that all is well with each of you, but especially with Sirius, Kingsley, and our friends at the Sanctuary. I'm afraid that when very many days go by with no word from you, I do begin to fret.