Post by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore on Jan 6, 2007 0:35:12 GMT -5
Before arriving in his tower office, Headmaster Trinn took a detour, dropping the necklace off with the potions professor to be tested. Until a conclusion on that topic could be made, he had to discover who the so-called dementor was and what he or she was thinking, attacking a student. Upon entering the office, Corvus realized that he was not alone; two other occupants regarded him sternly as he strolled in. One was to be expected; the black and white cat was always testy when her pet wandered off for long periods of time without first consulting her and yowled her displeasure from atop a bookshelf. The other was someone who seemed to only show up when the Headmaster could not give him an audience.
“Ah, hello, Perrault. It is good to see you as always.”
“And as always you look as if you are in too much of a hurry to address my grievances. You humans are always in such a hurry,”
Said the ogre in a slow, deep, gravely voice. Perrault was a resident of a once unused area if the castle who had moved in five terms ago after many a long-winded speech about how someone such as he should not be expected to live in a nondescript location, how Hogwarts had more than enough space and resources to house him comfortably, and how he disliked the taste of human flesh and would not be tempted to eat the students should he ever have the misfortune to meet one. For an ogre (hell, even for a human aristocrat), Perrault was a dandy. For all his bulk – a good nine feet and none too lean – and fearsome features – sharp claws, curling ram-like horns, and tusks protruding from his jaw to overlap his upper lip – he had no desire to go trampling about in the forest, eating raw bird eggs. This was obvious thanks to the finely made goldenrod jacket he wore over a rather delicate saffron shirt, both matching amber trousers. His broad, ape-like face from wide thin-lipped mouth, very high, protuberant cheekbones, and all the leathery space in between was the quintessential picture of haughty disapproval. He raised one six-digit hand to rub idly at the thick white brows that almost obscured his small tangerine eyes as the Headmaster spoke wearily,
“Yes, I’m afraid we must be if we are to get anything done during our short life-spans. As soon as Professor Demeetrie shows up, I have a matter to discuss with him and then I may be able to hear you out.”
“Ah, hello, Perrault. It is good to see you as always.”
“And as always you look as if you are in too much of a hurry to address my grievances. You humans are always in such a hurry,”
Said the ogre in a slow, deep, gravely voice. Perrault was a resident of a once unused area if the castle who had moved in five terms ago after many a long-winded speech about how someone such as he should not be expected to live in a nondescript location, how Hogwarts had more than enough space and resources to house him comfortably, and how he disliked the taste of human flesh and would not be tempted to eat the students should he ever have the misfortune to meet one. For an ogre (hell, even for a human aristocrat), Perrault was a dandy. For all his bulk – a good nine feet and none too lean – and fearsome features – sharp claws, curling ram-like horns, and tusks protruding from his jaw to overlap his upper lip – he had no desire to go trampling about in the forest, eating raw bird eggs. This was obvious thanks to the finely made goldenrod jacket he wore over a rather delicate saffron shirt, both matching amber trousers. His broad, ape-like face from wide thin-lipped mouth, very high, protuberant cheekbones, and all the leathery space in between was the quintessential picture of haughty disapproval. He raised one six-digit hand to rub idly at the thick white brows that almost obscured his small tangerine eyes as the Headmaster spoke wearily,
“Yes, I’m afraid we must be if we are to get anything done during our short life-spans. As soon as Professor Demeetrie shows up, I have a matter to discuss with him and then I may be able to hear you out.”
