Well, that's good. Your dad manages to do the weirdest things.
Bloody hell. That's no good. If Gran even suggests something of the sort after I'm out of here, I'll probably laugh at her. Which will only result in something horrible...
You're going to a finishing school? Excuse me while I laugh my arse off. And put it back on. And laugh it off again. Oh hell, I've got to do this a couple of times. Isn't finishing school that sort of place where you learn which fork you use for salad and which one you use for poultry and nonsense like that even though Mum made me learn it when I was three?
Are you going to learn how to sew!?
I have to go lock myself in a dungeon and vent this out. Pardon me.
For your information, I already know how to sew and, believe it or not, which fork is for what. And it is nonesense, information I've never had to use. I'll get out of this somehow or other.
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That's ridiculous. Why is your mother sending you to finishing school? 7 years wasn't enough?
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And yes, 7 years was enough--for wizard school. I'm going to a muggle finishing school. 4 more years, here I come...
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Bloody hell. That's no good. If Gran even suggests something of the sort after I'm out of here, I'll probably laugh at her. Which will only result in something horrible...
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I don't know that anyone knows the exact date of the ball, but it is coming up quite quickly.
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Seriously, mate. What is up with that mother of yours? Muggle finishing school.
There are still quite a number of witches without dates, and I think you'd be interested in that lot.
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Are you going to learn how to sew!?
I have to go lock myself in a dungeon and vent this out. Pardon me.
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