He must have bewitched her. Or forced her. She wouldn't have gone with him otherwise. He's disgustingly average; unfailingly cheerful, a Hufflepuff and to top it all off, he's a Mudblood. His only saving grace is that he doesn't try to hide it. Not that you couldn't tell if he did. He's the epitome of everything we stand against; everything that a Pureblood isn't. He makes me shudder with distaste; made her shudder.
And yet now, she's gone with him, run away, claiming she loves him.
She can't love him! She just can't! Somehow, he's bewitched her. There's no other explanation.
He's bewitched my sister, bewitched her and cost her everything – her status; her chance of a good, high-ranking marriage, even the love of our parents, our aunt and uncle, our sister. Think of that! Our own sister has turned against her because of him.
My only hope is that, one day, the charm, which cannot be strong; not with his common Muggle blood tainting and weakening his undeserved magic, will break and she will realise what she has done. Then she can come back to us, forgiven, and regain her place as a member of the purest house of all.
But no matter what, I hate him. I hate him with every fibre of my being for daring to do this to my sister, my beloved sister. And I swear to you, his days are numbered. I will hunt him down and kill him for this. I will hunt him down and kill him. I will make his family lose a brother, as we have lost a sister.
And his name? The name of the Mudblood I hate with such a Passion?
If you must know; if you absolutely must, I will tell you. It is Edward; Edward Tonks.