Oh no, not that sort of pretzel! I have come to realize that I can roll along the floor while in the shape of a pretzel. But, for the record, what was your secret ingredient?
I think I have come up with a way to spread the cheer a little more quickly than just general method of being happy and waiting for everyone else to cheer up around you.
You emphasized it. It could be cheering charms, if you're feeling juvenile (and obvious), or hardcore drugs if you're not. You're doing whatever this is in the library, so probably not the latter. You're still being secretive, though, because though you're still obviously responding to comments in your journal, your conversations with Fawcett and Patil drop off suddenly, meaning you're telling them something you didn't tell Kirke, Stalk, Trimble, Lovegood, or myself. Well, you could've still told them, I suppose, but the fact remains that this still isn't public knowledge and could potentially get you in trouble.
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Ah, but that's what makes it a secret.
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What the fuck, Hopkins.
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