Justin Finch-Fletchley

Hullo,

Did you make it back all right? No one missed you?

I say, I can't believe we fell asleep like that! I shall have a kink in my neck from those steps all day, what?

Worse luck, Zach did notice I wasn't back--well, he would do; he and Stebbins were up early for Quidditch practice--but I think I've convinced him not to say anything rude about it.

I love you. And you can squeeze me anytime you need something to cuddle, all right? Though if it's all the same to you I'd rather not have to wear big floppy ears, what!

-J

Hullo, all,

I've confirmation of what that lot with their sleeves off are doing.

Earlier this evening, Linus Moon, of all blokes, wrote to me to ask for 'Urgent assistance' and insisted that I come to meet him near the Dark Arts classroom. I say, at first I thought he was truly in distress, what, so I wondered if it were an emergency, if he really needed Matron.

No, he said, but nothing would serve except that I attend him straightaway. Well, one doesn't wish to let a chap down, after all, so off I went.

Turns out, Moon's plea was a ruse to lure me in to a session with the shirtsleeves company. It's nothing more than a private duelling club. Not that anyone's surprised to hear, what, but I can't think what made any of them decide I'm the sort who'd like to join. To say nothing of the dashed inconsiderate way Moon tried to trick me into coming, when I'd had other plans for the evening.

I left as soon as politeness would allow, naturally. But I thought you lot would be bally well interested, since so many people have been wondering.

-Justin