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of one Draco Malfoy

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I have come to a very startling conclusion.

My name is not dignified. It's a minuscule two syllables. Five lonely little letters. Not the least bit intimidating. A measly reference to a vicious magical beast isn't enough for a Malfoy. Clearly this was some small mistake my parents made, hoping I would recognize their fault and correct it myself. Perhaps this is a test of my maturity?

In any case, I have no choice but to change it to something befitting my presence. When my title is properly adjusted, surely I'll be able to grow a properly dastardly mustache.

Does the name Mestiphoclous strike fear into your heart? Or Beelzebub maybe? Ooh, Shaquslu is rather dashing...

The Student Formerly Known As Draco
Current Mood:
contemplative contemplative
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Dear H

Please Refrain from using My Pribbler as a vehicle for your inane chatter unless you are attempting to converse with Me. There are plenty of other, more worthy things that could be occupying the space you consume, both in and out of these pribblers. Keep this in mind when considering reproduction.
Current Mood:
bitchy bitchy
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It seems that mother wants me to visit the manor next weekend. She has something important she wants to tell me in person. She'll just have to do with a fire chat -- I'm much too busy getting ready for quidditch season. I'm not sure what everyone is fussing over. Any good player, such as myself, should have been in conditioning all summer long. I am fortunate enough to be able to afford private instructors for summer breaks. I have no doubt that I will continue on as the Seeker for Slytherin House team.

In other less exciting news...

He Is the barbarian I have always thought he was. Imagine -- attacking your own best friend. I don't find it hard to believe that nobody in the common room broke up the fight until Weasel was thoroughly beaten. I would be frightened of Potter's rage as well -- I've always thought he was not quite right in the head.

He write a lot but so far has said nothing of substance. Just because he is a prefect does not mean anyone cares about what he has to say.

She has the same problem as him, though she has much less money, I assume.

And, she is insane, and I suspect she has cooties.
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Shouldn't a private school be just a bit more selective? Perhaps I should have attended Durmstag...

I mean, honestly, I deserve to be canonized for putting up with the misguided nonsense of Weasels, the barbarics of Hufflepuffs and the sheer uncleanlyness of certain students... If Mother hadn't insisted I attend Hogwarts, I think I would have been quite happy to carry on with private tutors for the rest of my life, but noooo.

Of course, there's that pesky business of nobody wanting to tutor me, but that's not my fault -- Mrs. Fisher wouldn't stop inquiring about Father... I had to glue her lips shut. It was for the best, you see. Who needs to learn the French language, anyway? Everyone in the civilized world speaks English so there isn't any reason to learn anything else.

And I didn't mean to turn Mrs MacNair into a toad. I'd meant to turn her into a frog -- you can't very well expect an eight year old the have perfect transfiguration skills, can you?

Things have been rather boring as of late, don't you all think? Aside from rather unsightly Ravenclaw women talking about sleeping with half the school (which is odd, because I thought that particular profession was usually taken up by Gryffindor women). I must agree with Tracey -- its appalling. I do not need to know which halfblood hormone crazed moron is sleeping with which unseemly fat woman.
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The ride back to school, so far, has been rather uneventful. This is in great contrast to previous years that I will not mention for reason I'm sure we all understand... Lets just say bad elements from lower classes tend to stick their abnormally bucked teeth and/or red hair and/or stupid scars in other peoples buisness and ruin everything, sometimes. Its really a pity people -- and I use the term loosely -- like that are allowed in Hogwarts.

Even as I write in my outragously expensive Pribbler -- which I, of course, have had for ages before anyone else thought to get one. I'm on the cutting edge like that. -- I am currently sharing a lavish first class compartment with some of my Slytherin companions (I think Crabble has gotten a chocolate frog stuck in his left nostril. Lovely. ) as we catch up on the summers events. I didn't get to spend as much time as I would have liked with my friends as I was away on business with my mother (who has an uncanny resistance to poison, sadly) and some of Father's associates for most of the break.

On a wonderful side note, I havent seen Potter on the train ride so far. I'm not complaining, mind you -- just stating a happy fact. Perhaps he missed the train -- again -- and decided to drive to school... How very muggle of him.
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