August 22
Dear George,
America is great! There's so much to do and see! My British accent isn't even noticeable among all of the people here at the World Cup. There are wizards and witches from every corner of the globe here. As a reporter, I get box seats with Minister of Magic! The whole thing is so terribly exciting! I'm so glad the prophet decided to assign me to this year's Cup. Although I do miss you a lot, don't get me wrong.
A rather funny thing happened earlier today. A crazy fan (we never found out who) somehow managed to get where the Holyhead Harpies were storing their brooms. Next thing anyone knows, they were reduced to piles of ash on the floor. Gwenog Jones came in the next morning and threw an absolute fit, although she didn't let anyone capture her hissy fit on camera. Needless to say, security (especially around the brooms) has tightened exponentially. The Harpies are having brooms shipped in from London; they should be here by tomorrow, which luckily is the time of their next game. I am personally rooting for the Harpies this time around.
Hopefully there won't be any matches that last too long; I don't think I can spend five months away from you.
Love,
Angelina
August 22
Dear Angelina,
Hey, how is America? I know you've always wanted to go there, and this is your perfect opporotunity! Working with the Prophet does have its advantages, for you at least, but your fabulous job leaves me at home with Ron. Remind me again, how long is it socially acceptable to house family members who have a job, but don't have enough money to buy a house? I thought that once I was out of Mum's, I could be away from Ron's whining forever. My dream has officially been smashed.
The shop is going just fine, although we did have an incident with the love potions. Ron, the idiot that he is, was restocking the display case and ended up toppling the entire thing over. Everyone in the store ended up falling desperately in love with the first person (or thing) that they saw. Ron fell head over heels in love with a shard of glass. This gets me thinking that he might be a little masochistic at heart. Luckily I keep a gas mask, among other things, under the counter for such disasters. I had to lock the store down for a few hours while I administered the antidote. Of course by then St. Mungo's was on the scene and getting in the way, which didn't help much. The only thing they were good at was giving me more of the antidote when I ended up running out. Such amateurs.
Back to the more important of us two, how is the Quidditch World Cup? You know that the only one that I have ever been to is the one in my sixth year at Hogwarts. That particular one doesn't carry fond memories, though. Death Eaters ended up crashing the party. I hear that Ireland is doing really poorly. You've got to tell me the scoop before it gets to the papers, hun. Married couples don't keep secrets, you know.
I know you must be having a lot of fun, but I want you to come home. I miss you, even though you haven't even been gone twenty-four hours.
Love,
George