The Dressing Room

AHAHAHhahaaa this Ball is going to be hilarious. Half the girls of the school are going as naughty cat-girls, or naughty Healers, or some other lewd variation of a normal costume.
I am officially glad Father decided that we should adopt Muggle traditions as a "means of educating ourselves about other cultures." I'm not sure he had this exact tradition in mind, but I'm certainly not complaining. Hell no, I'm not. This is going to be both hilarious and visually pleasing, all at the same time.
And I've had no less than ten girls ask me to be their dates to the Ball, just today. And and this is a first-- I had a guy ask me. I about choked on my Butterbeer at lunch when he slipped me the note. Hrgghhhhaahahahahahaha.


Now I just have to find a costume.

Oh, my God. I don't believe I've been in here for years. Tsk, tsk, still the dump I remember it being- oh, honestly, aren't there any house elves that can dust around here? I may feel a sneeze coming on- no, wait a second, that's just my irritation. Surely there's a reason why I've been forced back into this despicable excuse for a dressing room? No? Then I must be off; dear Theodore's birthday party is tomorrow, and I'm always so entertained by the spectactle he and Morag provide.

Paddy? Penny? If you've followed me here, I insist you two clean around here before I contract something. Hmph.