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These past two weeks have been a bloody mess. I don't even want to go on about them, but I have to write in this sodding journal so I might as well mention something of them.
Seamus has been considerably off recently, not that I blame him at all. I suppose I don't give him enough credit, but he is one of my good friends -- and whether I believe it or not, I do have friends at Hogwarts. It was ridiculous of me to want to go home because of girl-related problems. More like embarrassment. More like misery.
More like my bloody homeland was being attacked by viscious Death Eaters. That's unfounded, but I'm upset.
Since Seamus and I have talked more about it, things in Ireland seem terrifically surreal. It's as though I could wake up tomorrow morning and the past six months will be this haunting dream of mine. That would erase my blunders with both Cathy and Geoffrey, and the attacks in Ireland.
But if that happened, I'd likely turn into some ridiculous seer and start predicting things like Sabrina Fawcett.
I'd rather it be a dream though. How bloody fucking discontenting.
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Oi, who's to say this shite in Ireland won't spread? I mean, I don't think that Ireland is the real target.
Euan