Your lamentations bore me. Was that a confession I read, or were you just letting your rather vivid imagination carry you off again? (And now, I must admit, I wonder how Slughorn would feel if someone were to try to cleanse him of one of his many addictions. It would be for his own good, of course --- and you say I'm not truly charitable.) (All the world's a stage, to wrench a line from context, and you're an appallingly bad actor: stop embarrassing both of us, would you please.) (Only sixty feet? Hm. Perhaps you should lead him a bit higher in the search for the Snitch. It won't be worth watching if it's not an eighty foot drop at least. Evans must have time to start the wailing.)

Do you think Potter is bright enough to hold onto his thoughts without setting quill to parchment? I'm sure he has to leave notes for himself: grunt, scratch arse, drool out of right side of mouth, &c. (You can tell yourself you're a Legilimens as often as you like, but it doesn't make it so.)

An unrelated thought, but not an unimportant one: I think we ought to visit the greenhouses after class and see if our OWL-year Herbology project is still in bloom -- and if so, we should take a sample back to the dorm for further examination. It wouldn't due for us to waste the entire day, after all, and since this lecture has been redundant at best, I think we'll simply have to take matters into our own hands. (I suppose I should mention that I might have promised Professor Sprout your services; something about needing volunteers from other houses -- I can't be bothered to remember, but you'll be assisting her for a time, at any rate. No need to thank me for my kindness: you know I'd do anything to help a friend succeed.)