With a Little Help from My Friends

Junk Mail:

Dear Resident,

How would you like to win a fabulous night out, accompanied by none other than the Boy Who Lived himself, Harry Potter? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and you can enter this exciting drawing simply by ordering a liter Wiz-Clean, today! It's fast, effective, and doesn't even leave smear marks! Your house will be refreshing in no time. Simply send 6 sickles and 8 Knuts to the return address on this envelope within the next week, and you'll both have a clean house and a chance to win this amazing prize!

Sincerely,

Wiz-Clean Co.

Response to Junk Mail:

Dear Wiz-Clean Co.

Since I really doubt that Harry Potter intends to go out to dinner with some randomer just so that you can sell more of a product which he knows from personal experience does not work and can cause nasty allergic reactions to a friend of mine that made his hands have green splotches for weeks, I don't think anyone will be winning that competition. In fact, you're lucky I can't be bothered to fill out all the forms involved in reporting you to the ministry for false advertising. Therefore, I request that you please remove me from your mailing list.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

Letter:

Dear Ginny,

I am going to ignore your comment about your brother's name, as it was silly, irrelevant, and most likely an exaggeration. But moving right along, I don't frighten people with S.P.E.W. Besides, people always fear progress, but it must press onwards or we would never have discovered the wheel, for goodness' sake!

Ginny, are you really going to wear odd socks? Dobby will be thrilled, that's for sure. I'm sure Harry would be quite happy to lend you some Dobby originals, for that matter.

The date does sound wonderfully romantic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to start swooning and wishing I could receive anonymous bouquets or something equally silly, but I know you love that sort of thing, and I'm really happy for you. If I could pick anyone at all for you, it would be Harry (And vice versa, of course). You've come along way from a mad crush in your first year. I must say, I'm surprised he was so forward; ordinarily he's really nervous about that sort of thing. Really though, you're welcome to rant to me as much as you'd like. What're friends for, if not to listen to you ramble? Well, I suppose several other things, but you understand what I'm saying.

I have some news too, actually. Not nearly as exciting as yours, of course, but still quite noteworthy. Remember what I said about being so happy that I finally had my own apartment? Well, apparently, I spoke to soon. There seems to have been some sort of mix-up, and now I no longer have a study. Instead I have a flat mate.

I know, I'm really quite disappointed. I was looking forward to having my own space. And as though that's not enough, she is one of the most singular people I have met since I lost contact with Luna Lovegood. Her name is Bailey O'Callaghan, and she is Irish. Not just Irish, but blatantly Irish. She has reddish-brown hair, blue eyes, light skin, and an accent to rival Seamus Finnigan's. She also wears primarily green, is apparently a huge fan of your entrepreneuring twin brothers, and speaks excedingly quickly. I'm getting a little better at understanding her though, fortunately. She also seems to have decided that Hermione is too long, and I am now Hermy. Why does this bring back bad memories of someone's rather large little brother? At any rate, within the first half an hour of meeting her, I now know her life story. She's come over here to work in the department of Sports and Games, and as she added, "For the Quidditch, of course, darlin'!" She ought to get together with your brother. As in, the youngest one whose name I am apparently no longer allowed to mention. As much as I hate to look down on her so quickly, it must be said, she does seem a little eccentric. The first thing she did upon arriving was look through everything in the cupboard, utter several cries of dismay, insist I was living on rabbit and tinned foods, and then whip out a notebook and scribble furiously. I can only assume that she was making a shopping list. She continued this for a good ten minutes before she got distracted by the television (Mrs. Appleby was muggle-born, so these apartments all have electricity, thank goodness. No wonder Ron found his so confusing...). She watched the commercials for a while, and then lost interest as soon as the program came back on. I'm really not quite sure what to make of her. At any rate, wish me luck, I may just need it.

Hope to see you soon, and once again, I'm glad that you and Harry had fun.

Love,

Hermione Granger

Bailey's Notebook:

Things to do:

Re-decorate apartment- Think green and orange streamers!!!

Convert Hermy into a Quidditch fan

Operation Flat-Mate Bonding Project

Replenish dung bomb and canary creams supplies

Find out phone number of the gorgeous guy whose picture is on the wanted poster downstairs put on the tenant's notice board!

GO SHOPPING AND BUY THE FOLLOWING!!

Cabbage

Pasta

Cereal

Brownie mix

Icing

Ice trays

Soda pop

Beer

Streamers

Scotch tape

Latest issue of Quidditch Weekly

Eggs

Butter

Steel saucepan

Toothbrush

Sparkly toothpaste

Real tea

A spatula that hasn't been melted by Hermy

Rabbit and/or a dragon. Peruvian Vipertooths are cutest!

Letters:

Ron-

Got it. As, surprisingly enough, I have no desire to be castrated, I will avoid that particular topic of conversation.

What are you going to do about getting your stuff back? Maybe if you go at night you can steal them back while the land lady from hell is sleeping. After all, Hermione can be your inside source.

Work is a nightmare right now. Some idiot has declared himself to be the re-incarnation of Voldemort. It's not as though it's the first time this has happened, but usually they're completely mad or are just attention stunts. This guy's taking it pretty seriously, and he's done some muggle-torturing. Remember the explosion in the Prophet last week? That was no accident. We're tracking him at the moment. Wish me luck.

-Harry

Harry-

Sorry mate, life sucks sometimes, doesn't it? Finally get rid of You-Know-Who and a dozen more are just clamoring to take his place. Gits. You need any help, let me know.

I'll drop Hermione a note and see if she'll help me, but let's face it, going against authority has rarely been her style. Still, I'm sure she owes me for something; I'll just have to think on it.

I've got to say, it's a little bizarre being back at Hogwarts without you lot. I keep jumping around nervously whenever I'm in the staff room, thinking someone will walk in at any moment and tell me that I'm not supposed to be there, deduct house points, and then send me back to my common room. Fortunately I've stayed out of detention (Very funny), although Filch glowers at me whenever I pass. Can you believe he still works here? Not only that, but Mrs. Norris II seems to have the same opinion of me as her predecessor. I swear the thing is stalking me. Filch probably put her up to it. I ate dinner at the staff table last night, and it was downright creepy. Dumbledore was still there. I know it sounds awful, but I'm still a bit amazed he's alive. I mean, by now, he's got about four hundred, right? McGonagall is still here, but you can tell she's starting to feel all the injuries she got during the second war. Rumor has it that she'll retire next year. Flitwick is still here too. He seems to have gotten shorter. Possibly that has something to do with the fact that I think that after my final teenage growth spurt, I never really stopped getting taller.

I have to say, although I never liked Snape, I wish he'd been sitting at that table. I know every war has its casualties and all, but I never dreamed that anything could stop him from his Gryffindor-torturing ways; not even a killing curse. Still, you won't believe who his latest substitute is. Well, you might. All I can say is that Gryffindors are doomed to suffer in class for eternity. That's right; the new Hogwarts potions master is none other than Draco Malfoy.

I will now give you some space to get over that information...

...

...

...

...Are you over it yet? I swear I nearly resigned on the spot. I couldn't decide if I'd rather get the hell out of there, or punch his lights out. There he was, leaning back in his chair, talking to Professor Vector, as though he was a real, honest human being and not the lowest life form on the planet. I still can't believe that they didn't arrest him. Yeah, maybe it was daddy dearest that was a death eater, but I don't kid myself that he wouldn't have sworn himself in at the earliest opportunity. Seriously, there had to be something they could use to get him in Azkaban! Anything! He just glanced up at me, then started smirking, and send in his incredibly annoying drawl, "Why hello, Weasley, fancy meeting you here." McGonagall sent me what was unmistakably a warning look that made me feel eleven years old again, so I just nodded and replied, "Hello Malfoy, are you visiting the school?"

And that's when Flitwick explained that he was now the potions teacher and head of Slytherin house. And obviously I can't punch him smarmy mug or I'll get sacked, so he'd better not try anything. I sat at the opposite end of the table next to Hagrid and made sure to avoid all eye contact with Malfoy. I just hope that being a total slimy prat isn't contagious. Hagrid's doing really well, by the way, especially considering that for a while there we were sure he was a goner. He's as cheerful as ever, and still has the same old obsession with dangerous creatures. I feel for his students.

You wouldn't believe what nice rooms the teachers have. They've got beds and fireplaces just like ours were, as well as fancy drapes, rugs, a bookshelf, a desk, file cabinets, an alcove for a trunk, the whole nine yards. You'll have to come and see it. To think all this time our teachers were living so luxuriously!

I should probably go. It's late, I'm running out of candle wax, and Hermione's voice keeps nagging at me in my mind to start planning my lessons. I think she may have hexed me; I can't get it out of my head.

Talk to you later,

Ron

Dear Ickle Ronnikins,

Like our new stationary? Very official, right? You'd better read quickly, though; it should erupt into fireworks at any moment. It's still in the preliminary stages. Keep Halloween free, all right? We may just have to plan something to celebrate the success of our new American branch! Make sure Harry, Hermione, the family, and whoever else you happen to like ensures they're available, too. If everything goes as planned, this'll be the event of the century.

Have fun torturing a new generation of students. By the way, thanks for the potions master update, we'll be sure to act on it immediately.

Love to Ginny and her new boyfriend.

Fred and George Weasley

Presidents of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Inc.

Letter:

Dear Hermione,

Good luck changing the world one house elf at a time. I'll send you a picture of me in full uniform and the socks he knitted for Harry last Christmas. I may send a copy to Dobby as well; I think he'd like that. Maybe he'll make me my own pair! I'm sure I'll start a fad at school.

Honestly, Hermione, I still maintain that there is a hopeless romantic buried deep inside of you that you are simply refusing to release. Probably this is either because you have yet to find the right guy, or you are afraid, because you're terrified that after watching Casablanca, Love Actually, and The Princess Bride so many times (I was your flat mate, Mione, I know your deepest, darkest secrets), you're afraid that real life love simply will not live up to the passionate expectations you hold for it. You therefore bury yourself in your books.

Don't worry, that's all the analyzing you get for now; but think on it, okay?

Well, I must say, having a flat mate instead of a study may seem like you got the raw end of the deal, but at least it sounds like Bailey will be good entertainment value. Don't you dare let her convert you into a Kestrel supporter, though; I'd never forgive you. Hermy, aye? It has a certain ring to it... Have you found out what her shopping list contained yet? The suspense is killing me!

I'm going on another date with Harry tomorrow night. Why is it that time always goes more slowly whenever you're waiting for something good? I have to go check and see if the clock is working. It'll probably start ticking backwards at any minute.

Your Impatient Friend,

Ginny

Poster:

With a new school year just around the bend, stock up on prank supplies at WEASLEY'S WIZARDS WHEEZES! We now have a whole range of products, from the new Exploding Essays to the classic portable swamps. Notice: Special discounts to anyone who promises to use the supplies against Professor Malfoy, your newest Potion's master!