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The Very Personal & Private Journal of S. Snape: Keep Out Unless I Say So.
This Means YOU. Absolutely NO Mudbloods Allowed.
Created on 2004-07-12 17:23:26 (#3788675), last updated 2004-09-22
248 comments received, 173 comments posted
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7 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 9 Userpics
| Name: | Severus Snape |
|---|---|
| Birthdate: | 08-29 |
| Location: | Coln St. Aldwyn, Gloucestershire, United Kingdom |
Property of S. O. Snape. Do not touch.
My name is Severus Snape. My father is Octavius Snape, and my mother is Isabella Travers-Snape.
I am a first-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sorted into Slytherin House. Evan Rosier has been my best mate since before I can remember. His house is across the stream from mine, and he gave me this journal for my eleventh birthday.
I've a ridiculous cat named Aristotle (except my father calls him the Cyclops because he's only one eye now), but I'd rather have an owl because they're far more practical. Cats don't do anything worthwhile. They just stare at you and lick places they ought not. Right in public which is really rather vile of them if you think about it. Owls at least carry messages and such.
I'm very good at casting hexes already as Rosier learnt this summer. Should you attempt to steal this journal, your fingers will swell up and horrible, oozing, revolting boils will pop up all over your hands. And your face. And your privates. So leave my journal be.
Someday I want to play Quidditch for England.
My name is Severus Snape. My father is Octavius Snape, and my mother is Isabella Travers-Snape.
I am a first-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, sorted into Slytherin House. Evan Rosier has been my best mate since before I can remember. His house is across the stream from mine, and he gave me this journal for my eleventh birthday.
I've a ridiculous cat named Aristotle (except my father calls him the Cyclops because he's only one eye now), but I'd rather have an owl because they're far more practical. Cats don't do anything worthwhile. They just stare at you and lick places they ought not. Right in public which is really rather vile of them if you think about it. Owls at least carry messages and such.
I'm very good at casting hexes already as Rosier learnt this summer. Should you attempt to steal this journal, your fingers will swell up and horrible, oozing, revolting boils will pop up all over your hands. And your face. And your privates. So leave my journal be.
Someday I want to play Quidditch for England.
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