V,

"If the worst should happen"—I was quite certain this was always merely an over-dramatic line belonging to the most base fiction. Tragically, however, the worst has happened, this time to me:

Regardless of my marks on my O.W.L.s, I am to be plucked from academics and thrust into the satin and tea parties that mark the life of a damned Pendergast Rose.

Father insists I have known this for years (I have not) and Mother, quite predictably, thinks it is the best opportunity I shall ever be gifted (it is not). What cosmic judge must I have offended to be saddled with two parents who are so utterly unaware of me that they believe it best that I be moved from the shelf to an ornamental cabinet, meant to make a husband's home more lovely but nothing else?

How am I to stop my brain from melting out my ears?!

In despair,

Z,

V

V,

I cannot see anything there is to do. My efforts to reason with my father (rather heated, admittedly) seemed to cement in his mind that I am in need of greater social refinement. My mother, in contrast, thinks it a "glorious opportunity" and is certain that I will be grateful for it before long.

How anyone should be grateful to see their potential squandered, I do not know.

In despair,

Z,

V

V,

There are no bad ideas, so long as they are bolstered by well-thought plans.

In despair,

Z,

V

V,

I treasure, of course, the sentiment, and while I shall miss you dreadfully as well, I am not so fond of you as I am the potential that my father insists upon squandering by sending me to curtsey and play the pianoforte. I wish I had a twin brother instead of my elder and my junior, that I might employ polyjuice potion to switch our places. Acquiring my younger sister's life seems both tedious and shortsighted, as she shall no doubt suffer the same fate (though I suspect will do so with a smile).

In despair,

Z,

V