September 1st

11:05am

Toilet cubicle on the Hogwarts Express

I, Adrianna Cocoa Denosove, am not scared. Quite the contrary in fact. I am sat in this modest toilet cubicle because I find it very fulfilling to be on my own and contemplating my thoughts. My thoughts which are in no possible way informing me that I am acting cowardly and that it was no wonder that I never landed my arse in Gryffindor. Which between you and me I can never be more thankful for, such an act of Merlin for not placing me in there with such irrational people was truly one of mercy.

I am a Hufflepuff. And I am proud.

Being locked in a toilet cubicle, hiding, in no way diminishes my pride.

Nor does my (quite rational) fear of the people in this school.

However, my pride does not in any way stop me from waiting here until my friends notice that I have not yet arrived to find them in their compartment and come straight to the toilet and pick me up. As soon as they actually stop to think about it they'll know I'm here. They are capable of following my train of thought. It's quite unnerving actually. I have faith, I have friends in Ravenclaw. Their meant to be smart, right?

So, someone enlighten me as to what's taking them so bloody long. I swear to the all holy and wonderful Merlin that when they eventually take pity on me and get up off of their lazy arses to save me from humiliating myself before the year starts (like I have managed to do for the previous five years) that I am going to kill them in a very slow and revenge seeking way…is splashing toilet water on them too harsh? I think not, whilst the Hogwarts castle itself may be quite grand and extraordinary I can assure you, this cubicle is not. If I was on better terms with Dumbledore, strike that, if I was on any terms with Dumbledore, I'd tell him myself that for the price we pay for this pretentious school these toilets are just not up to standards.

Mahaha. I feel freedom on the horizon. I hear footsteps coming this way and what sounds like giggling. Woo-ness all round. They have finally decided to take pity on me and take me back to their train compartment. A feeling is swelling up inside me. It's either love or nausea from my sudden excitement. This is what prisoners must feel like when they learn that they are being set free early and can go and wreak more havoc upon the outside world.

11:30am

Train compartment

Lady Luck, I assure you now, is a bitch. And hope is a damning notion. Both should be shot. It is a hard mission but if someone provides the artillery I will gladly accept such a fulfilling job. Naturally if you wanted to pay me at the same time I wouldn't refuse, I'm not that stupid. However, I am, I am sad to admit (yes that pride I had not twenty minutes ago has completely diminished and turned to ashes, never to return again), stupid.

As soon as I heard the giggling and was overcome by that strange feeling, which I have now learnt was a lapse in my sanity and a sharp fall into the pit of stupidity, I practically lunged out of the compartment, ready to embrace my loves, arms outstretched and grinning like a madman (which a few influential few now think I am and so naturally the whole school will do so also, pray I am easily forgettable and they actually don't have a clue who I am). By the time I came round from my dose of extreme happiness it was too late. I had been stood there with my arms outstretched and grinning ludicrously for too long already to be able to truly save myself. It wasn't my friends who had been coming towards the bathroom. In all my excitement I never considered that other people might actually be going towards the direction of the bathroom. Come on, in my defence, we'd been on the train not even half an hour, who needs to pee that soon?

Well apparently people do, people need to pee half an hour into the train ride, people that I had hoped to avoid so that for once I could arrive to my second home with some dignity and perhaps have a normal, unhounded year. Okay, slight exaggeration; my years are never hounded as people actually don't know who I am. But just because no one knows my name, or sometimes I wonder if they can even see me, doesn't mean that I can't feel the embarrassment crawling down my spine weeks after the event has happened.

No, once again fate had made a mockery of me and I had found myself face to face with four Gryffindor seventh years. Four male Gryffindor seventh years. Four male Gryffindor seventh years who just happened to be able to influence three-quarters of Hogwarts into believing whatever they wanted. I mean if I had to mistake my friends who are girls by the way (well mostly) for four males, that in my defence giggle like girls, and then stand in front of them for an age looking like an escaped mental patient, why couldn't it have been in front of some naïve little first years that I could threaten with loo water and who would have actually had an excuse for being mistaken for girls? Actually if we analyse these events closely I actually lose respect for half of the female population that constitutes Hogwarts. These four Gryffindor males are four of approximately ten of the most wanted men at this school, and they laugh like girls!

Anyway, ignoring that enlightening revelation, when I looked up and I realised that I was in fact stood in front of Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew who were all looking down at me as if I had planned to hide in the bathroom and then jump out at them with my arms outstretched like some pathetic fan girl, I did what any other sane person would have done. I ran back into the toilet cubicle from which I came. And I tell ye, my new formed plan to save face would have worked uncannily well had I not shut the door on my way out and instead of finding myself in the safe sanctuary that the modest cubicle offers I found myself sprawled over the floor with my face in a lot of pain, my skirt hitched up several inches (in a very unrespectful position of which my father would not have been proud and my mother would have congratulated me on thinking that I was finally trying to woo a husband, however odd my wooing techniques were) and not remembering where I was or how I got there.

Thankfully such a state of mind did not last long but sadly it lasted long enough to reinforce my lack of mental security to the four Gryffs. After they had all got over the initial state of shock that had immobilized them and Black and Potter had doubled over laughing whilst Pettigrew looked at me with sympathy trying to contain his laughter like a true gentleman, Lupin was kicked into action by his shivrilous mind set and swiftly walked over to my sprawled body, bending down beside me, taking my hands from my face. Upon seeing the face of Lupin everything that had just happened started to come back to me and thus consequently making my lack of reply help him to further doubt my sanity, when I "came to" properly, I could tell he thought this from the concerned, quizzical look he gave me. It's the same look my mother gives me everyday when I inform her that no, I do not want to wed Lucius Malfoy and no, I do not want his strangely blond, peroxide babies. At registering this look I knew that there was nothing left but to stand up, mutter my thanks for the concern and that I was fine, really, (it wasn't a complete lie, my face no longer hurt but my left leg was dead from the way I'd fallen and my ego had taken a serious beating, but other than that I'm sure if my pride allowed it I'd live another day) and limp off to search the compartments with as much dignity as I had left. This wasn't very much as I had to walk past Black and Potters' hunched forms. I swear they were salivating they were laughing so hard.

It took me only ten minutes to find the right compartment and no other mishaps happened on my journey which I was thankful for. However, on arrival I didn't have the energy to look happy or join in my friends' joyous laughs over the holidays and so I just threw myself into this seat, pulled out my journal and tried not to cry irrationally over another shitty start to the year whilst I retold it in my beloved journal.

My friends keep sending me concerned looks but they know better than to question me, they understand that I need time to gather my thoughts and emotions until I can tell the story without shedding a tear (I hate crying in front of them), however, sadly they didn't know me well enough to come and search for me in the toilet. It doesn't matter though, there's still time for them to learn and I'm sure they'll be plenty more opportunities for them to practise rescuing me in the future.

I really hope this train journey is not proleptic of the rest of my sixth year. If it is I might just stay on the train, return home and grant my mother's wishes and wed some bloke up the wizard-ing hierarchy.

Scratch that, I'll take my chances with fate. There is no man (or woman) in this world that could trick me (using magic or otherwise) into falling into the damning cage that is a relationship.

The mere thought is laughable.

9:30pm

My Dormitory

Yes, I am happy to say that I eventually had my emotions under control and was able to replay the bathroom commotion to my friends, who like true friends listened attentively and then offered me their words of consolidation…after laughing like hyenas where I was forced to remember the giggling of the four Gryffs, they really do sound similar, throw chocolate frogs at them and pout (quite well if I do say so myself, I have been practising over the summer, I figured that with friends like mine I needed some form of defensive weaponry).

But the best news of my entire day (other than Ray buying me a wooden stick that brings the owner luck) was that the four Gryffs hadn't told anyone what had happened earlier on and I was able to walk into the great hall and eat in safety, away from the humiliation they could have brought me.

Maybe it was the lucky stick that saved me, but I can sleep peacefully knowing that there is not a soul, excluding my friends, in this school that actually knows my name (save the professors, but they don't exactly have a choice) and if they do, that's all I am to them, a name, a face and the daughter of a couple of rich purebloods.

And that's just the way I want to keep it.