Post by Fitz Hargreaves on Mar 23, 2007 11:23:15 GMT
Fitz had lounged in an old decrepit classroom, kindly loaned to him by the Headmaster for an office. As yet he hadn't set up much, merely an aged typewriter he often liked to tap away upon, finding the easy flow and rhythm assisted his writings. The previous night had provided him with much amusement, and many leads to stories, he couldn't possibly have imagined such great finds as he had had. On escaping from two youths he had encountered in the library he had fled to his office, his mind buzzing with countless ideas. First off he believed one of the more critical articles, beginning to scrawl upon a piece of paper he set about creating a masterpiece, soon to be taken by owl directly to the Daily Prophet Headquarters to be printed immediately.
Young people these days are full of controversy, the spells they learn become ever more advanced, but do they use them for the good of all? In some cases no. Caretakers are treated infernally at the esteemed school of Hogwarts. Students treat them as the mere dirt that they clean up, "They're (toilets) all blocked with who knows what and well, it's not our place to make you have no work around here, as you said so yourself... You want to be the proper caretaker one day, so it's time to learn how to clean messy, crap filled, rat infested, unhygienic toilets with your bare hands." Not only is their language somewhat appalling but they treat the poor caretaker with disdain, degrading his character and job by the frequent mention of his "being only the assistant caretaker." The poor man was left a gibbering wreck and on interviewing his colleagues they wholeheartedly agreed with the continuous degradation they receive from the educated pupils. Such behaviour begs you to ask the question is there any ray of hope for the future?
Setting his quill down he skimmed through his work nodding his head satisfactorily, that would do nicely he surmised though I won't name the poor lad, he was alright really, the point just needs to be proven. Smiling he gestured for the exceptionally well trained owl perched on his small suitcase, to come closer. On attaching the parchment he went to the nearest window, unlocking it with a swift spell he gave the bird a quick ruffle of its feathers and waited patiently for its flight. As the tawny owl twitched her head, as if listening out for intruders, or perhaps more likely a mouse it could gulp down on her travels, she suddenly hopped off his outstretched hand and glided away. He sorely hoped Angel, as the bird was affectionately named, would make it safely to her destination, though she had never failed yet. His own niece Sophie had named the bird, and he felt a certain twang of attachment towards it. Consequently that sparked off another idea for an article Are we overly fond of our pets? As he sat down to write once more, leaving the window wide open to allow a breath of fresh cooling air, he felt at peace, only the tap tapping of his typewriter and the gusting of the wind interrupted the quiet.
Do youths believe themselves immeasurably superior to those around them?
Young people these days are full of controversy, the spells they learn become ever more advanced, but do they use them for the good of all? In some cases no. Caretakers are treated infernally at the esteemed school of Hogwarts. Students treat them as the mere dirt that they clean up, "They're (toilets) all blocked with who knows what and well, it's not our place to make you have no work around here, as you said so yourself... You want to be the proper caretaker one day, so it's time to learn how to clean messy, crap filled, rat infested, unhygienic toilets with your bare hands." Not only is their language somewhat appalling but they treat the poor caretaker with disdain, degrading his character and job by the frequent mention of his "being only the assistant caretaker." The poor man was left a gibbering wreck and on interviewing his colleagues they wholeheartedly agreed with the continuous degradation they receive from the educated pupils. Such behaviour begs you to ask the question is there any ray of hope for the future?
Setting his quill down he skimmed through his work nodding his head satisfactorily, that would do nicely he surmised though I won't name the poor lad, he was alright really, the point just needs to be proven. Smiling he gestured for the exceptionally well trained owl perched on his small suitcase, to come closer. On attaching the parchment he went to the nearest window, unlocking it with a swift spell he gave the bird a quick ruffle of its feathers and waited patiently for its flight. As the tawny owl twitched her head, as if listening out for intruders, or perhaps more likely a mouse it could gulp down on her travels, she suddenly hopped off his outstretched hand and glided away. He sorely hoped Angel, as the bird was affectionately named, would make it safely to her destination, though she had never failed yet. His own niece Sophie had named the bird, and he felt a certain twang of attachment towards it. Consequently that sparked off another idea for an article Are we overly fond of our pets? As he sat down to write once more, leaving the window wide open to allow a breath of fresh cooling air, he felt at peace, only the tap tapping of his typewriter and the gusting of the wind interrupted the quiet.
