Dear Mum, Dad, and Michael,

[Elizabeth Peasegood H1]

Hogwarts has been all right, but I wouldn't call it fantastic. Really, Michael, you're not missing anything. Your school is much nicer. Some of the teachers here are real bullies. One of them snaps at you even if you didn't do anything wrong, and the groundskeeper is huge. He sort of scares me. The caretaker keeps muttering about chaining people to walls, and he has the most hideous cat I've ever seen. Gala got into a fight with her almost immediately (though since you know how Gala is, that isn't saying much) and came out the worse for it. Then Madam Pomfrey, the nurse here, looked at me as though I'd gone bonkers when I asked if she had any potions she could use to fix Gala up.

The food here is pretty good. I can't say I miss instant food or Meal-in-a-Potion. I looked all around the first dungeon level, Dad, and I couldn't find the kitchens, just a bunch of still life paintings. They were kind of creepy. You might as well pay up now, because there's no way I'm going to find a secret entrance to the kitchens that isn't even there. It was a stupid bet to make, anyway.

I'm still as clumsy as ever; about a hundred ink bottles have exploded on me. It's a good thing all my work robes are black. My trainers are, now, too, but I'm sure that will wash off. No potions have exploded on me yet, though. I'm sure it'll happen before the month lets out. The Potions Professor is an absolutely ghastly man. If there was one person in the world I could hex without consequences, it would be him. Well, except for maybe Kate, the awful twit.

Just one last request and then I have to go: Dad, could you send some books by owl? Not too many, I don't want this poor girl, or boy, or whatever, to break his/her back. Just some of the ones you always see me with my nose in--Blood Brothers for sure, maybe Alas, I have Transfigured my Feet, if you can find the English translation. Don't bother taking any books that Michael wants; they're his first. Thank you so much, Dad!

Michael, I've made friends, and they're wonderful! I love you all!

Elizabeth

[Elizabeth Peasegood H1]

Dear Elizabeth,

It's good to hear that you've been getting along all right. I hope you'll forgive me for monopolizing this letter, but some idiot has gone up and down Muggle London selling guns that fire the wrong way and your father has been running like mad all over the place following those Misuse men and Obliviating any of the poor people who bought them. One of the Aurors thought that there was a secondary enchantment to attract people to the guns and compel them to buy them, but they haven't found it yet if there is one there.

Was that a teasing note I heard? Meal-in-a-Potion may not taste the greatest, but it's better than watching me try to cook. Remember that one time I burnt water? But maybe you could bring some of this delicious Pig Pimples food back with you during the Winter holidays. We'll all be very happy to have something new to be jealous of you about.

The caretaker mutters about chains? If I were you, I'd stay away from that man. I've never gone to a magic school so I'm not sure whether that sort of thing is considered all right or not, but in Muggle schools, chaining people up is frowned upon. Just don't get in too much trouble so we don't have to send a complaint to the Board of Governors about the bruises on your wrists.

Michael has been kind enough to remind me that you forgot to tell us which house you've been sorted into. Honestly, I don't know what I'd do without Michael around; he always catches all the magical things I miss. I'm glad at least one of you is sticking around. I tried to get him to write something, but you know how he is. Surly and unmanageable as always.

Attached are Blood Brothers, Gadding with Ghouls, and that one book about hippogriffs. Be sure to feed this poor owl some treats when he gets to you, he'll be completely exhausted for sure.

Love,

Mum and Michael (and Dad by proxy)