My sunshine, if you wish to land me in hot water with my dear old friend, surely you've better tacks to take than to tell tales out of the tea-room. I thought surely you would reach for a reference to the unfortunate incident of the fireplace instead? Or has that retreated too far into the mists of time by now?
I must confess, my time with Barty was spent more in gentle mutual admiration and in pleasant diversion than in questions of weighty matters of the heart -- not that I think he'd necessarily be averse to the telling (and if he's had as beastly a year as has been implied to me by several, perhaps he's long overdue for the purging of it), but it has been a decade, and I've missed so much. He has ever been the best and the brightest of my flock -- you'll have noticed, of course, the goad I always used to use to spur him to greatness was to urge him to surpass me in the service of Our Lord, and though it became our shared jest so quickly, I never once believed the potential was not there. But it is the best and the brightest who burn the most fiercely, and I do find myself fretting that he seems so
I should leave the matter there (curious, how quickly these journals become a receptacle for that best saved for one's inspection of one's own self). Our Lord's ability to read that which no mere servant of his might suspect is one of His great bounties granted to us, of that I have no doubt, and the tool is honored whenever its master chooses to temper it. But a man does still ache to see his brother's heart so heavy. I wish I could
Bah. Enough of this and I'll be bawling into my cups (celebrating freedom from Healer's restrictions with a glass or two -- do remind Lucius he still owes me for the loss to my stock experienced during the extended arrival of your firstborn, or perhaps you'd best be the one to make good on that debt). I should be delighted to see you whenever and wherever I may, whether that be in the Quidditch stands or the classroom or the merest chance to glance upon your radiance from afar.
no subject
I must confess, my time with Barty was spent more in gentle mutual admiration and in pleasant diversion than in questions of weighty matters of the heart -- not that I think he'd necessarily be averse to the telling (and if he's had as beastly a year as has been implied to me by several, perhaps he's long overdue for the purging of it), but it has been a decade, and I've missed so much. He has ever been the best and the brightest of my flock -- you'll have noticed, of course, the goad I always used to use to spur him to greatness was to urge him to surpass me in the service of Our Lord, and though it became our shared jest so quickly, I never once believed the potential was not there. But it is the best and the brightest who burn the most fiercely, and
I do find myself fretting that he seems soI should leave the matter there (curious, how quickly these journals become a receptacle for that best saved for one's inspection of one's own self). Our Lord's ability to read that which no mere servant of his might suspect is one of His great bounties granted to us, of that I have no doubt, and the tool is honored whenever its master chooses to temper it. But a man does still ache to see his brother's heart so heavy.
I wish I couldBah. Enough of this and I'll be bawling into my cups (celebrating freedom from Healer's restrictions with a glass or two -- do remind Lucius he still owes me for the loss to my stock experienced during the extended arrival of your firstborn, or perhaps you'd best be the one to make good on that debt). I should be delighted to see you whenever and wherever I may, whether that be in the Quidditch stands or the classroom or the merest chance to glance upon your radiance from afar.
Raising that glass to your very great health,
T