fast over maps and it don't look back

I am terribly glad that all of the housing troubles in my building are caused by ghouls or an infestation of spirits and little men. They wouldn't want to blow the roof off anymore than I would.

I rode the Muggle underground for six hours today.

All of my applications are submitted. The manager of the Magical Menagerie seemed like a lovely sort of person, but it could have been the diction. Nice words are lovely.

I don't know where I think I'll end up, but I know that where I am is where I am meant to be. Isn't that pretty? All of this protesting and ranting doesn't seem constructive when it comes to getting matters accomplished. There are loads better things to be protesting than students in the workplace whose parents were murky.

The dandelions are quite charming as are the daffodils. They coat almost an entire part of the walkway. A little blanket of yellow.

I should have liked for a bit more creativity on the part of the NEWTs examiners. Poor them and their constant stress of routine grading. I should send them a bowl of singing fruit.

Father and I celebrated my birthday by mapping monarch butterfly patterns in coordination to blurpies and niffler digging migrations. It was positively wonderful.

I wonder if any of the housing places have colour restrictions.

I really do think
That abusing these would stink
Would it truly be a crime
If the ink was coloured lime?

The sun was shining merrily
I do think it was a scarily
Pretty way to welcome us home
Until we could start writing a tome
Of our adventures still to come.

Let us think
I would like a drink
And to have it be violet lemonade.