*A young man in his early twenties enters the Sorting Room with a bright smile, bowing slightly from the waist. His black hair seems a bit messy, his bangs only slightly obscuring the striking green eyes peering at the room from behind a pair of glasses. It would only be on much closer inspection that one might be able to note something strange,
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b) We already have house elves. You'd be redundant.
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He bows a little, and seems to be sincere when he speaks. "Oh, well, I hope you'll please excuse me for bothering you."
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((I'm sorry for all the comment spam, only...not really. :D))
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"Oh my, is that so? Well I suppose he's not 'my type,' either. And it doesn't seem that he's taken much of a liking to you, in that case."
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