Now, it was either me or Goyle who did it – Goyle's a bit of a dark horse and sometimes you have no idea where he's coming from - but one of us sent Potter a fake Valentine. Which among other things, likened the colour of his eyes to what happens when you leave a piece of bread in a dark cupboard for a month or so.
I think it must have been me. Goyle is as subtle as one of Hagrid's hair-suits and would have written something along the lines of: 'I'm going to stab you when you're sleeping you die Gryffindor you die' or some such thing.
He would have also misspelled 'your' and 'Grifindor', no doubt.
Sadly, our juvenile attempt at humour was overshadowed by Ginny Wealsey's honest Valentine which so thoughtfully began with, 'his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad'.
Inspiring stuff and further proof that love impacts upon your intellect in the same way sniffing a bag of glue does.
I can be objective, you know. I know 'pretty' when I see it. There are those-- excuse me while I scramble for a vomit bag --who would liken Potter's eyes to, say, a pine forest after a spring shower. The green of the woods reflected on the surface of a clear lake. Far-seeing green.
You get what I'm saying?
There's nothing inherently wrong with green eyes.
The problem is basically what lies behind said, green eyes. Father always said that you can charm away ugly, apply creams and create potions to disguise hideousness.
But stupid always comes out in the end.
And what is with that look he gives you? Please! I mean these looks! Who the hell does he think he is? Some sort of orphaned doe, alone in the woods, traumatized by his mother's death, making friends with little bunnies with speech impediments?
"Potter", I feel like telling him, "you are not a silly little girl so quit acting like everything cuts you to the quick. If you can't handle a smart quip or an astute observation about your physical appearance and or breeding, from an admittedly less than well-meaning classmate, than go stick your head in the toilet and drown yourself because you're no good to anyone".
He's got several looks, does Potter. Each more dull and irritating than the next. There's 'startled innocence', which is, sadly, how he usually looks. This look involves large, goggling eyes, that on some occasions actually tremble with moistness. I'm not kidding.
And he gets away with bloody murder because of it.
Me, I'm capable of 'startled innocence', but I'm careful to use it only when I need to. Do it once or twice a year, and you've gained an all-areas pass into the underpants of whichever school chum or workmate you've set your sights on.
Use it all the bleeding time and you're Harry Take Me Home and Feed Me Potter.
Let me see...there's also 'regular old surprise'. I call this one The Fish. I swear that boy's lower lip must weigh as much as Madam Maxime's left thigh because he can't seem to keep his mouth closed when the slightest nibble of a question penetrates that six inch, lead-plated brain-box of his.
I'm attending a charity gala function next Wednesday (part of the reparatory post-War process, don't ask, go away, I won't tell you) where Potter will be receiving yet another surprise award.
I trust I'll witness The Fish in all its slack-jawed glory. I'd take a picture for you for posterity and proof, but I fear the film in my camera would dissolve from the abuse.