Order Only: A Brewing Day
Mar. 13th, 2009 02:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_poppyAs the old saying goes, 'there is for every malady a medicine, for every sore a salve, for every pain a plaster'; however, despite promises, we've yet to see delivery of what's been ordered for us. I've been assured that some of the items have cleared Customs and are on their way from Dover to Hogwarts -- by mole tunnel or snail caravan, apparently.
Of course, we are not entirely dependent on others, and so--thanks to the fortune that has brought me a bit of extra help this week--today is a brewing day. As I write, I have tummy tonic bubbling over the fire (we continue to need unprecedented amounts of that); yesterday's batch of cough draught has been bottled; and Miss Granger is readying the large cauldron for a batch of Vim and Vigour Broth.
In point of fact, I might not have got round to this last item if I hadn't needed to set Miss Granger a task to steady her this morning. She arrived a tad early (perhaps she asked leave of Mr Marvolo to come here whilst he took breakfast?), and so she had several minutes' overlap with Mr Boot before he had to rush away to his other duties. I know she was eager to see him, but I'm afraid the encounter did not go well. I was busy seeing to breakfast for a ward full of overnighters, so I was not party to what they said, but from what I've been able to gather, Miss Granger asked if the boy had resumed his lessons and received the same answer he's steadfastly given me -- a quotation from that horrendous Ministry tract on Muggleborns. Apparently he's not to be taught anything by anyone except what's necessary to the execution of his duties and prescribed specifically by his owner or employer. The former, it would seem, trumps the latter: he's told me I may ask his Master for permission to teach him things. Otherwise, 'The Mudblood mustn't do that' is his only response to any request that he participate in any but the most menial tasks here. It's maddening. Monstrous.
Miss Granger was so distraught by their conversation that she quite upset several of my patients. I realise it's not wise to send her out to wander the school unsupervised, but really I had little choice at that point, so I set her the task of collecting the two dozen Zebra spiders we'll need for the Vim and Vigour. I'm pleased to say that when she returned, her spirits were much improved and she was brimming with the story of her adventure, happily recounting how she'd struggled to find more than one or two of her wily prey until Crookshanks (her familiar, you know) turned up and led her a merry chase to an outer stairwell where they found a whole colony. Apparently Crookshanks made great sport of pouncing on the spiders as they jumped and skittered from nook to cranny. -- I've been gifted with a lively re-enactment of the whole drama!
I trust that the broth will do as much to alleviate the March doldrums in my young patients as collecting the ingredients did for Miss Granger this morning.
Later: I've just had a moment to read what I wrote earlier. How callous of me to be so easily diverted from young Boot's situation. I can only say that it was such a relief to see Miss Granger's spirits lift for a bit. She is a remarkably bright pupil, and she simply glows when she is learning something new. By the end of the day she could tell me why and when to add each element of the potions we made, but she grew increasingly sober as the afternoon passed. I think she, too, may be feeling badly for having enjoyed her lesson. I've no idea what to do or say to put that right. It's simply appalling what's been done to these children -- such a shocking waste of potential!
Of course, we are not entirely dependent on others, and so--thanks to the fortune that has brought me a bit of extra help this week--today is a brewing day. As I write, I have tummy tonic bubbling over the fire (we continue to need unprecedented amounts of that); yesterday's batch of cough draught has been bottled; and Miss Granger is readying the large cauldron for a batch of Vim and Vigour Broth.
In point of fact, I might not have got round to this last item if I hadn't needed to set Miss Granger a task to steady her this morning. She arrived a tad early (perhaps she asked leave of Mr Marvolo to come here whilst he took breakfast?), and so she had several minutes' overlap with Mr Boot before he had to rush away to his other duties. I know she was eager to see him, but I'm afraid the encounter did not go well. I was busy seeing to breakfast for a ward full of overnighters, so I was not party to what they said, but from what I've been able to gather, Miss Granger asked if the boy had resumed his lessons and received the same answer he's steadfastly given me -- a quotation from that horrendous Ministry tract on Muggleborns. Apparently he's not to be taught anything by anyone except what's necessary to the execution of his duties and prescribed specifically by his owner or employer. The former, it would seem, trumps the latter: he's told me I may ask his Master for permission to teach him things. Otherwise, 'The Mudblood mustn't do that' is his only response to any request that he participate in any but the most menial tasks here. It's maddening. Monstrous.
Miss Granger was so distraught by their conversation that she quite upset several of my patients. I realise it's not wise to send her out to wander the school unsupervised, but really I had little choice at that point, so I set her the task of collecting the two dozen Zebra spiders we'll need for the Vim and Vigour. I'm pleased to say that when she returned, her spirits were much improved and she was brimming with the story of her adventure, happily recounting how she'd struggled to find more than one or two of her wily prey until Crookshanks (her familiar, you know) turned up and led her a merry chase to an outer stairwell where they found a whole colony. Apparently Crookshanks made great sport of pouncing on the spiders as they jumped and skittered from nook to cranny. -- I've been gifted with a lively re-enactment of the whole drama!
I trust that the broth will do as much to alleviate the March doldrums in my young patients as collecting the ingredients did for Miss Granger this morning.
Later: I've just had a moment to read what I wrote earlier. How callous of me to be so easily diverted from young Boot's situation. I can only say that it was such a relief to see Miss Granger's spirits lift for a bit. She is a remarkably bright pupil, and she simply glows when she is learning something new. By the end of the day she could tell me why and when to add each element of the potions we made, but she grew increasingly sober as the afternoon passed. I think she, too, may be feeling badly for having enjoyed her lesson. I've no idea what to do or say to put that right. It's simply appalling what's been done to these children -- such a shocking waste of potential!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 12:55 am (UTC)As for the waste of potential - yes; but no point crying when pixies spill the milk
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Date: 2009-03-14 01:09 am (UTC)I suppose. Certainly, there's not a thing in the world I can do to alter the situation she faces.
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Date: 2009-03-14 01:11 am (UTC)Speaking of seeing to, I must discuss matters regarding my most recent journal entry with you. There are some potions and the like that ought to be on hand for the Lord Protector's visit - he so prefers it when all his comforts are seen to. May I confer with you in the morning, after breakfast?
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Date: 2009-03-14 01:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 01:27 am (UTC)I've just now read your journal. I never imagined!
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Date: 2009-03-14 02:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 02:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-14 02:43 am (UTC)