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Ernie MacMillan

A Day In the Life

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Ernie MacMillan

A Day In the Life

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You all know me, I’m Ernie MacMillan, and to some I’m a Healer-Trainee. To others, I’m their Healer both very respectable titles and positions. To the special one of heart, I’m her Knight, a title I hope to keep for the near future with options on a lengthier term. I can wax poetic about Susan for hours, but we are talking about what happened to me over the last couple days. Due to my work schedule, my days are extremely long so it all blends together.

During my lengthy stay at St. Mungo’s recently I recently had a talk with an irate Paul. For the people who know this may sound strange because Paul is our house-elf. For the purists that may read this, it will be shocking because house-elves are known to be subservient of Wizardkind. They just do not know of our relationship.

One of my earliest memories is of Paul. Looking back at it through an adult’s eyes, I awoke late at night and saw a boggart. I don’t remember what form it took, I was screaming and with a burst of accidental magic I broke three out of the four nursery’s windows. The next memory of the situation is Paul appeared on my cot He pushed me behind him with a voice that still rings in my ears Paul said, “YOU WILL NOT HARM MY YOUNGEST MASTER!” As he raised his hands to battle his image of the boggart, Mum and Father came into banish it.

Since that night Paul snuck into my room and gave me a biscuit and told me stories of the other two generations of MacMillans he has served. To this day he calls me My Youngest Master Ernie in private and The Youngest Master in public. I consider him a friend.

I came in to the Schloss from a long day at work, as soon as I hang up my cloak, I see Paul appear before me. He is standing with his hands on his hips and in a quavering voice he said, “Youngest Master Ernie, you must control your ‘beast’. Paul will feed it and clean it’s sand box, but I won’t clean up after it many times in a day. Come and looks at your room!”

I followed Paul up the stairs to my suite of rooms just wondering what type of damage the wee cat Brio has done and why Paul is so irritated? I walk from my sitting room to my bedroom and I find out what set Paul in such a grumpy mood… The first sight I see is my bed spectacularly unmade. The bedspread and quilt lays to the right and the sheets are to the left. My desk has been cleared. The quills and stoppered ink bottles lay on the floor. Most of the quills have been destroyed and it looks like she has had a grand old time. Brio is napping sprawled out taking up most of the three foot by four-foot desk.

I promised Paul that I’d tell my parents that he did his job if they take him to task.

That little cat has been a unique experience to me since I found her. I take a look at my bedroom. My hassock has been ripped to shreds with the feathers laying next to edges. I look in my closet and notice my shoes. She decided to leave a ‘present’ in one of the shoes. When I looked at my laundry basket, and noticed a familiar scent. Thank Merlin for banishing spells and scourgify!

A few ‘repairo’ spells later, and my room is back in order.

I walk over to my desk and pick up my kitty.

Looking into her eyes, I say, “Lass, you haven’t been ladylike at all. What am I going to do with you?” She struggled with me a little hopped into my lap and crawled up my chest until she was sitting on my shoulder rubbing her head on mine and purring furiously, she seems so glad to see me.

I need to get some advice on how to raise a cat. Maybe she is lonely and if she had a playmate, she wouldn’t be so destructive.

I pick up my book and we begin to read. Before I know it, I have a bairn of a cat laying on my head seemingly looking at the book and I hear a ‘maiow’ occasionally as she comments on it. She turns around, and here is her long, black fuzzy tail hanging down into my face.

I take her down and scratch her ears put her on my lap. Just as she looks up at me, a Eagle Owl flies in to my room. I take the envelope off of his leg and he flies off.

On the face of the parchment envelope, stands the MacMillan Family Crest.

I open the envelope and read it.

Ernest MacMillan
Schloss MacMillan

Ernest,

You are requested and required to report to the courtyard of the Schloss on the Eleventh day of the Eleventh Month at the ninth hour in your formal clothes.
We have much to discuss.

With all of my love,

Your Great-Grandfather

Angus Ian MacMillan
Family Historian

I wonder what this is all about? Why is great-Grandpa summoning me with no reason? I must put in the request at work, I guess I’ll find out then. I may have to make an additional one anyway--it is almost time for another private appointment.
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