06 February 1983
Well I got the honor of telling Bill Whitby the brilliant thing his sister did.
As someone who is always being told the RUDDY BRILLIANT things their siblings are always doing, I felt like I should do it before Mr Olivia Tugwood and Valkyrie Rowle opened their mouths about it.
Little sisters should just not:
1. Shag people.
2. Embarrass themselves.
3. Shag people.
4. Marry people old enough to be their parents.
OF COURSE I CAN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT BECAUSE I ACTUALLY LIKE ALASTOR.
EVERYONE LIKES ALASTOR.
If he was even ten years younger, it would be different, but maybe I want more of a problem than I actually have with it, I don't know.
But sometimes I just want to hex him.
Alright I feel better. But I felt bad for Bill Whitby. I really did, that's shit. Maybe he locked her in her flat and is never letting her out again, that would be brilliant for him. He'd have less of a headache.
I feel bad but there's nothing I can do about it.
The Macnair trial was the biggest load of shit. It's a sad day when people would rather condemn an unmarried pregnant woman and not a Death Eater to Azkaban. It makes me sick, it disgusts me and I feel like somehow we've failed everyone who died. Sorry everyone, apparently we're shit at our jobs or everyone else is corrupt.
FUCK THIS.
It's just a headache.
Everything is a headache.
At least during the war I knew where everyone stood and now people are free to do whatever they want and I don't know. I'm glad the war is over. I AM. I'm just in a bad mood.
Maybe I should make sure Bill didn't strangle his sister.
Alright everyone?