I’m pleased to see all of you received your journals and like them so much! My debut was about what I expected for the majority of the time. My family in France is known for their gardens and the wisteria plants that blanket the mansion. So everything was adorned in a kaleidoscope of light blues, and lavenders as they saw fit. My mother loomed like a fucking omen behind me most of the night until the pains of her habits beckoned her away. The men were beyond obnoxious too. I don’t understand what women see in French men, they’re brazenly full of themselves yet far too delicate to carry themselves around a woman who has enough sense in her to string more than a few words together. The whole affair honestly had me feeling homicidal. However, there was one encounter that I simply must tell all of you about, although I fear I may not be able to do this whole affair justice in writing. I’ll do my best, but we should definitely try to find time for tea or perhaps a sleepover around July 26th to properly share our horror stories from the men we’ve been coming across.

As for my COB, after hours of dealing with the endless and nonsensical dribble of the men that are somehow deemed desirable enough to haunt me with their lacking personalities, I slipped away from the ballroom and onto my family’s connecting balcony above the gardens. Fancied myself some refreshing silence, but of course that was simply too much to ask for as a man had been watching me and followed me out onto the terrace. I am not sure if any of you have heard of him - Mr. Vincent Iago. The simplest summary of the man would be that he’s an egomaniac social climbing snake who fancies himself a charmer. I only knew anything of him because my mother is utterly disgusted by the man and has drunkenly spewed his name out in her gossip chambers before.

I will admit, he was far more interesting to speak to than the other men I’d been dealing with all night. Although still quite the fool. Within the first few minutes of conversation he was already asking if I fancied myself the next Mrs. Iago. Can you imagine? The boldness of men never ceases to amaze me. A wonder they aren’t all killed my debutantes, truly. I spared him a painful curse though, and instead chose to enjoy myself a little as he was still quite amusing, and any man that causes such a visceral reaction in my mother should be praised. The snake wasn’t willing to speak with me past the venture of the balcony though. A shame considering I was rather enjoying his quip. He claimed it was to preserve a young lady’s reputation. And that was after asking if I fancied myself a social climber’s wife! Obviously a cowards excuse is a rather boring one, so I decided to call back into the ballroom and beckon Ms. Grimpuckett out to the balcony. I figured he'd rather walk the garden than be caught out alone with me, but none of you will ever guess what this fool did next… he jumped off the balcony! Into the gardens below!

I made it down the stairwell before the hags ward managed to turn up thankfully, and then what should I feel sliding across my shoulders? A literal snake. The man’s a snake animagus! Who knew magic could be so comically inclined. He didn’t seem to find the whole situation as humorous as I did though, because he turned back in front of me once we were in the cover of the gardens. And… well it was quite the sight to see. I will say that. He attempted to become threatening with his words to me over the ordeal, but I suppose the fall may have made him forget which families event he was attending. It was honestly quite humorous. Afterwards he gathered his clothes and fled rather quickly back into the ballroom though.

I’m not too sure how, but my sow of a mother came stomping through the gardens mere minutes later. I’ll spare you the details of my mothers usual behaviors, but do not act surprised when you see my face should we encounter each other in the next few days. She demanded I go back inside since apparently my disappearance had caused quite the talk inside. The only acceptable kind of gossip is when the words are spilling out of her trough of a mouth apparently. So, I gave the woman exactly what she wanted. I went back inside, and as any respectable debutante would do at her COB, I took up a dance. With Mr. Iago. I’m sure you can all imagine how that was taken. Everyone watched and whispered about us the whole song. My mother was furious, but it was far to public for her to do anything. In the end I feel like I left the dance far more intrigued by the man than I had been upon just seeing him naked. He works for my father I’m fairly certain… in what way I’m not entirely sure. Which to answer your question, yes. He did leave quite the lasting impression. I find myself rather curious if he will manage to slither into another event above his station sometime soon.

I can’t believe Atticus brought an owl to a debut! What a moron. What in the world could have possessed him to think that that was a solid idea? I once again circle back to my previous mention that the boldness of men never ceases to amaze me. Or perhaps the idiocy of men. It’s hard to gather which outweighs the other. Did you ever hear if he and Estelle Malfoy recovered from his foolish tardiness? I’ve heard she can be rather sharp with her wits about her so I’d wager not. And honestly given Atticus’ grand owl offense I feel he’d be lucky to call any woman his wife at this rate. Also, June is right! Why are we only hearing about Atticus and not of those you danced with? After my detailed account I am expecting to hear about all three of yours adventures that have taken place while I've been away in France! I demand details!

The Flint Institution seems like such a marvelous place to study! I wish I hadn’t spent nearly the past month locked away in this hellhole. I would have loved to have tried to warm my father to the notion of this as well, but my mother does seem to have planned nearly every breathing moment for me it feels. It doesn’t help that somehow my father is always able to make an appearance at events but seemingly becomes unavailable shortly after and disappears. Perhaps I will try writing to him about applying to the institute as well. However he rarely writes back to me, so you both may have to just share your stories of it.

Also, I picked up some lavish looking face cream for Ophelia while I was in France, June. It was at the same secluded shop as these journals. Apparently instead of correcting facial marks it feeds and festers them. The only thing a man will be able to think about when talking to Ophelia is his Astrology lessons from back in his Hogwarts days now.

I feel rather bad enchanting parts of the journal from Ida… but I do see why you’d be concerned with finding a way to bring up the party. I’m rather excited by the idea of a black and white party! I always long for the day that I have a reason to buy a black dress. Although, I am usually daydreaming of my mothers untimely demise. I agree that Ida will be thrilled to join us! She is always excited to meet up for tea. I wish I had someone I could introduce her to as well. The only person that even comes to mind is my cousin Leo, and I don’t believe I would even do such an introduction to an enemy as I am fairly certain unleashing him onto an unsuspecting debutante might be considered a war crime and land me in Azkaban.

B