I can hardly tell whether it's dire or not. Do you know that Mother thinks I'm going to be murdered any day. That's apparently what unbalanced her the other night: she thought Hooper was sent to assassinate me. Honestly. As though he could have lifted a wand, let alone cursed anyone.

Father blames me, of course. For everything that's befallen them. Thinks the mudbloods are spies I've put in the house. I suppose he imagines I'm plotting patricide and mean to use scullery maids to do it.

Yes, Tuesday, then. Thank you. I know you're busy, but I've missed you.