Dear Millicent
- Millicent

Yes, it's me, Millicent, and I'm back in all my glory. Miss me?


Hey, Bulstrode,

My father was one of the highest featured composers on the radio a while back and my mother used to critique the performances of people such as Celestina Warbeck in the papers. She actually mentored her husband Irving for a while, perhaps she's how they met... so it's safe to say that I come from a family of musical connoisseurs. It is my wish to bring some of that legacy to our most noble House by creating our own Hogwarts orchestra and, ahem, reforming the school's tastes somewhat. Unfortunately, there's a lot of molly-coddling that goes on because apparently, not even clubs are outside the jurisdiction of our tyrannical professors. The dilemma I'm building to is - recently, the idea of introducing bagpipes and talentless Muggleborns has been gaining heat and naturally, I must stop this nonsense before it gets any worse! So I would appreciate your rougher perspective on this if you're amenable.

Frustrated Conductor

Well, my own routine for stopping some idiot from doing stupid stuff goes along the lines of ambushing them in the dead of night with a fist or a particularly hard object. Maybe lure them to an abandoned classroom in the middle of nowhere with a love letter. But our Head looks down on that so unless you're fine with a detention or three, maybe push those kids to some nerdier but classy instruments. I dunno, flutes and harps? Is that sophisticated enough for you, F.C.?


Millicent,

We have the most disgusting specimen amongst our midst in the girls' dorms and I'm certain you might have come across her at some point or the other. If you're like me and the rest of our classmates, of course, you won't recognise her by her name because we've long forgotten it. The Devil - as she's known - is our own personal redhead and such a blemish against our Common Room's colour scheme. I couldn't take the sight anymore and last week I took it upon myself to make it easier for her to not bring shame upon the rest of us Slytherins by dying her hair a gorgeous blonde when she was snoring, dead to the world. She's been threatening to reach out to the likes of McGonagall about it after Snape blew her off! What a snitch! We're only trying to help, right? Am I truly in the wrong here?

Well-Intentioned Witch

Well, all I can say is, if she goes to McGonagall, so what? You can't cast the spell again? Look above for my physical instructions on dealing with morons who need extra help on getting the memo. Or maybe go a more permanent route with the hairstyle, if you know what I mean. How hard can it be? If all else fails, set Malfoy and his posse loose upon her. That'll teach her. Except for Snape, Parkinson's shrill fashion rants would bring anybody to their knees after five minutes in her presence. I think it's the grease, it provides a layer of protection in his ears. If you're reading this, professor, that's a compliment.


Millie,

So, I've just got the greatest idea. A boat of green glass out on the Lake! It's what every reputable gang needs, right? A unique hang-out spot. We could make it a secret hideout for our kind, like a treehouse or a den, but in the water. And ooh! If we get a baby dragon somehow to guard its entrance, none of the other Houses would be able to invade. It would drive them jealous. The only thing is getting Professor Snape to sign off on this project. What kinda stuff does he like?

Scaled Architect-In-Training

I really wouldn't know. That is a terrible idea though. Getting into Muggle circles, are you, Scaled Architect? It'll probably get wrecked by the Giant Squid sooner or later. Just suck up to him by tripping Potter in the hallway here and there, or maybe knocking Granger down a peg or two during class will get you on his good side. But seriously. You look through the window in the Common Room and think the Lake would be a fun place to be? I can picture some faces that I think would definitely belong there but they're showing up a little breathless and blue in the face.


Hey, Millie! Can you believe the nerve of this?

That bloody git Finnigan or what's-his-face exploded my books just as we were leaving Charms class! And then he spilt bloody butternut squash stew all over me at supper yesterday, what a clumsy oaf. Is it some weird Gryffindor courting thing?

- Should I Be Worried?

Maybe you should be, yes. I wouldn't be surprised. They're all freaks, after all. And if there's ever a face who looks like it's been pinched a little too much during St. Patrick's, it's that one. So long as you're not falling for any of it... I do wonder what went on in that tower of theirs during Valentine's. Just don't engage unless you intend on giving him a sip of his own medicine - and that's the pain I'm talking about, not the courting. Love doesn't exist.


And that's all for today. See you next time, vipers. Keep those fangs sharp.