Well, it's 11:36 on a Sunday night. The Sunday night before Hogwarts swings into session for the last year. My last year. Hell, probably everyone's last year. Because he's coming. He who really ought not be named, unless you want to play pool with your own head. And I, like everyone else at this pathetic school, get to depend on dear old Harry Potter (can you hear the sarcasm? because I can drip some more on, if you like) to save us all.

I'm sitting here finishing off my second tub of French Vanilla ice cream, because if the world's going to end, I might as well be productive. I've developed a style; I lick the top of the spoon and then the underside, slowly and carefully. Someone told me the other day that I eat like a bird. Ha. Ever seen a bird eat? They don't eat like this.

I wonder if anyone else has thought about their impending doom, if anyone is thinking about it right now. I'd be willing to bet somewhere, someone has come to the same conclusion as I have. Probably Hermione. Brilliant wench. Ought to have been a Slytherin. She might have gone somewhere then.

If someone who'd be believed, Harry Potter, for instance, went round the school and told everyone that the world was going to end in a day or two, how many people would go have sex? How creative are you, Hogwartsians? Will you all just curl up and snog? Will any of you opt for the more unusual forms of sex, at least? Will any of you, besides dear, dear Harry Potter, do anything to save the world?

Not that you could. Fate's like that. She makes a hero, puts him center stage, shines a spotlight on him. Neon sign, even. Then she makes some sidekicks, some extras, a villain or two to go with the sword in the hero's hand. Then she adds the audience. But this play is life itself, so there's no line labeled "Stage here. Audience here." You don't know when you're just audience. I'm starting to get this horrible feeling I'm audience.

Of course, of all the plays to have front row seats for, what better than the end of the world? Right? Oh, okay. Maybe he's not going to end the world. Just the wizarding world. Hey, I know! I could go be a Mudblood! Renounce magic! Skip out on the apocalypse and go live with the dead heads.

Is ice cream a depresssant? Why am I whining? The world's not going to end. Potter's going to save it.

That might be worse.

A world that belongs to Harry Potter. We'd never hear the end of it, then. Pottermania would take over the world. They'd crown him king of wizarding, or something. He'd be honorary Quidditch champion, and honorary Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - if he didn't take the job up himself, which he probably would. Dumbledore would adopt him. Yeech. I didn't have to think of that. Snape'd probably take up residence outside Harry's door. There's a hate/love relationship for you. And he uses me, Snape does, to make Potter jealous. I wish he'd quit.

Actually I'd rather Potter dropped off the face of the earth. I'm almost okay with it ending, now that I've considered the alternative. Of course, Potter isn't going anywhere. Nothing's going to keep him from having it out with that-damned-bastard-whose-name-I-haven't-the-guts-to-say. Nothing. Well. I can think of one thing that would stop him.

I've finished my ice cream, somehow, and I don't remember eating most of it.

I cannot be thinking this. It wouldn't solve anything, really.

I mean, the Damned Bastard would take over the world, enslave us all, kill off the heroes and . . . and . . . I don't want that. That's got to be worse than a little Potter worship.

If only I could . . . I mean, both of them at the same time would be ideal. Two birds with one stone? Isn't there a spell that works to that effect?

Where'd I put that spell book?