30th May 1895

I—

I will be unable to make our weekly walk tomorrow. Mother has me on bed rest after I vomited upon Mr. Murdock Greyback at the Hogwarts ball; I have not even been allowed to venture into Papa's library, so strict has she been. It is embarassment she worries for, I expect, rather than my well-being, but Dr. Pomfrey was brought in nonetheless. I have been diagnosed with nerves "due to my advancing years", which is among the most ridiculous things I have ever heard.

That said, I do not think it unwise that I seek a second medical opinion. I've been I wonder if you might know, through your professional connections, a discreet healer or physician?

31st May 1895

I—

I would rather not cancel at all, you know that. I do not know why you are so short, unless you had a secret, vested interest in the cleanliness of Mr. Greyback's kilt. Am I to presume, then, that you do not know of such a healer?

1st June 1895

I—

What I must say in response, I cannot do in the form of a letter. Mother will be out tomorrow after lunch and is not expected home until quite late in the evening—please say you'll come? I promise you can give me a pig's nose if my explanation is not up to scratch.