thirty-seven
To the purists and IS-types and other cunts, I'd just like to know where are you now? It's good to see that you don't even have the balls to soapbox your vaunted beliefs unless you have the upper hand. Which is probably why we won and you didn't.
I probably took the wand off one of your daddies earlier. And while we're hear, fuck you for this year, and my scars, and my friends' parents, and my friends' deaths, and Elisabeth's sodding hand. Zabini, I hear you're personally responsible for that one. You're the least of the scores I have to settle.
And Pucey and Murphy? You fucking twats are so dumb that there's no way you're getting back into Ravenclaw next year. In fact, you'll probably be declared Squibs.
Finally, Turpin the Elder? Lisa. We're cool.
