Apparently, the headmaster didn't appreciate the fact I managed to blow up one of the suits of armor in the hall a few minutes ago. Of course, if Potter hadn't moved, the armor would still be in one piece. However, it's rather useless to cry over spilled milk, I think.
Professor Flitwick thought that I might have pent up agression, and suggested that I become... in touch with my emotions. Poetry as opposed to detention.