January 7th, 1971

Dear 'Meda,

The more you complain, the shorter your name gets. Game on. I heard from Arthur, who heard from Molly, who heard from Dorcas, who heard from Belvina, who heard from your sister (the younger one, not the creepy one) that you're not actually sick, but instead avoiding rounds because of our last letter exchange. Why? I thought you liked arguing, seeing as your so good at it, and who better to argue with than Ted Tonks. Oh yeah! My name is not "Theodore". It's Ted. Just Ted, no more, no less. Unless of course you count my middle name and surname. If you're not at the second floor by half-seven tonight, I will tell Slughorn that you're being irresponsible.

Now that that's out of the way, I propose a deal. If you talk with me during rounds, not arguing, actual talking, I'll stop writing you. Until then, expect day-to-day accounts of what happens to seventh year Hufflepuff boys. I promise to be graphic.

Best of luck avoiding me,

Ted (not Theodore, just Ted) Tonks

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