The following document was discovered on the bathroom floor of the North-Mid Quads Hall on the morning of November 1, 2011. Written in a hurried scrawl on parchment, our editors did their best to decipher the piece, allegedly written after the local Psi-Phi Fraternity’s themed party:

I think the scar really did the trick. Through the glow of the club lights, I could tell Beth was down for some snogging. We locked eyes from across the room, she in her buxom button-down Hermione shirt, me in my Gryffindor-colored sweater and thick-rimmed glasses. You could say sparks flew. As I floated across the dance floor avoiding dougie-ing Slytherins, my heart fluttered as she beckoned ever so gently with a Pumpkin Juice in her hand. I strolled over to the bartender and asked for two more potions. I could tell he didn’t really mean it when he responded: “Fuck off, dipshit.” Must have been some kind of spell.

I swept my bangs out of my eyes narrowly avoiding the Maybelline lightning bolt etched onto my forehead. She looked so sexy in that Hermione outfit. This was my night.

I could feel it in the air despite all the Mudblood sweat hitting my face as I approached her. She began to dance on me. Some kind of waltz or something. Things got a little more exciting. Boy, she got me all hot and bothered. Beth wasn’t acting like this at the theater party on Friday. Potter brings out the best in people.

Then suddenly she fell asleep with her arms around my neck. Damn, the bartender must have had some spell in all that ice he was throwing at us. She was so heavy. But so hot. I couldn’t let this get in the way of rounding Diagon Alley and making it all the way to Gringotts tonight. I got her on the bus when we had to leave and she followed me to NMQ where things got raucous. The neighbors complained of shouts of: 10 Points for Hufflepuff, which they heard throughout the night. To my dismay I woke to stubbly-faced Tom. He should have had two shots of Polyjuice to keep the illusion going a little longer. The things I do for horcruxes…