It's been a bloody awful summer. Dad insisted that I got a Muggle job. The next person who asks what our daily specials are gets a straw up the nose. And if I have to carry one more tray of steak to a patron, only to have them tell me that it's not done properly I'm going to hex someone (Jelly Slug being my personal favorite of the moment).
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I wish I could meet you in Diagon Alley, but you know... I'm in need of news books too, I'm running low.
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Are you sure you don't mind?
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What a joke you have a bloody muggle job?
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