Locked to the Safehouses and associated allies.
All recovered from NEWTs and OWLs and whatnot? Anything interesting happen, or happening, or whatever tense you prefer? Work with me, people, I'm about to go spare here. I've heard about the gathering tonight, but I doubt I'll be there. I'll be depending on one of you to dance as my replacement, instead. Someone's got to keep the place lively!

Not much to report here, really. It's all quite a lot of the same, but I'm at least pretty well shot of the bed by now. Not that it matters much. Movement is lovely. Flying would be better.

Locked to Mrs Figg.
Do you find that your cats like to keep your face warm when you sleep?

( Private. )

Locked to the Twins.
Have either of you written to Katie's family about, well, you know?

Locked to the Safehouses and associated allies.

Here I am, then.

I've given Fred and George the boot as my personal assistants. All the intermediary rot is getting old, and it's high time I started communicating for myself. Nothing against either of them, of course, they're lovely blokes. I'm not certain what would have come of me if not for their help. Besides lying out dead on their floor as well, that is. Consider this my public mark of gratitude, boys. (And do enjoy it while it lasts, you two, as it's not likely to happen again.)

This Intarwebby thing is going to take a lot of getting used to, though, I can tell you. But then, it's not as if I haven't got the time just now. Still, Merlin, how do you people manage to post something so frequently? It's taken me an hour to get this far!

So you know, I do appreciate the messages I've received, and Eleanor, thank you for the parcel. And here I thought all of you must have forgotten about an old-timer like me. Goes to show what I know.

Well, that's that, I suppose. Keep in touch and so on. You've no excuses now, as you know where to find me.

Private.

I still can't believe Oh, bugger it.