Dear the boy who lived,

Your friend, Remus, came around yesterday. He was really nice. I'm not in any trouble and he told me that Dumbledore has somehow convinced the Ministry that I'm trustworthy enough to withhold the information that wizards live among us. To be honest, I'm still having a really hard time processing it all.

Remus told me that normally wizards and witches only disclose their true identities to Muggles when they get married. So when's our special day then? I mean its pretty short notice but I think we can sort something out. I don't think my parents are going to be too happy, mind. Marrying me without their blessing, quite bold of you Potter.

Anyway, Remus gave me a lesson about your life and all the shit things that's happened in it. I know everything, including about the tournament. I'm really sorry, Harry. I can't imagine what you're going through right now. If I had known what really happened at your school, I never would have badgered you so much and I'm just really sorry. I wish there was something I could do other than just write useless words on a bit of paper that will, no doubt end up making you feel worse than better about it all.

So swiftly changing the topic to something equally as depressing, do you know what's happening with your hearing? Have you been given a date? Will I have to be a witness? Because if it means helping you I'll do it for sure. If there is anything you want me to do, tell me and I'll do it.

Anyway, I better go. My parents are still insistent on me telling them what time I got back the other night and what the two of us got up to doing. Don't worry, I'll make up some kind of lie.

Keep me updated with everything and good luck!

Love,

the muggle girl.

(We're back to letters again. I hope you are all enjoying this story as much as I am. Until next time...)