A/N: Okay, before you all immediately Avada Kedavra me for writing this instead of updating An Army of Our Own, hear me out. I am working on the second chapter right now. It'll most likely be updated sometime next week. I'm currently going through and writing an entire plot outline for the rest of the story and it's taking a little bit of time. This story is what I'll be using to take breaks whenever working on the more serious one gets difficult. I'll be working on them both equally. So enjoy this more humorous fic.

Oh, and I know this idea has been used Merlin knows how many times, but I wanted to take a shot at it.

All is true to canon in book six aside from the fact that Hermione arrives at the Burrow later in the summer than Harry, and Fred and George don't go to live in their shop until two days after Harry's arrival.

Disclaimer: I'll own Harry Potter when Ron adopts an acromantula.

July 5th 2:42 AM

Why, hello, you charming little notebook, you. Due to my recent bout of insomnia causing me to wake up at this ungodly hour, I happened to find you chilling out on my desk. Therefore, you are going to become my new journal.

No, you are not a diary. If you were a diary, I would shove a basilisk fang into you.

Repeatedly.

In numerous places.

For an extended period of time.

Long story short, you're not a diary. So don't argue with me.

2:53 AM

It just dawned on me that you haven't the faintest idea who I am. So allow me to introduce myself.

I'm Ginevra Molly Weasley. Ginny, to you, unless you'd like about fifty flapping bat bogeys attacking your face. Which I can't see why you would unless you have some jumped up bogey fetish.

2:55AM

In case you ever get the impression from what I write in here that I happen to pine for my brother's best mate, let me tell you right off the broomstick that you're wrong. Wrong wrong wrong.

Harry Potter is a scrawny little git.

With wonderful green eyes, by the way. Not the gross kind of green; you and your bogey fetish wouldn't like them. They look like…oh Merlin; I'm not even going there.

Nothing like fresh pickled toads if that's what you're thinking.

3:05 AM

Speaking of the completely not amazingly attractive Boy Who Lived, he's arriving here tomorrow to stay for the rest of the summer. Hence, why I'm currently writing in a stupid little journal instead of sleeping. The fact that he can keep me awake when he's not even here is more than a little troubling.

Wait. I think I just heard something in my closet. It was like a tappy, rattly, creepy kind of noise.

Oh no.

Lord Voldemort is tap dancing in my closet.

3:30 AM

Alright, so the noise in my closet wasn't a tap-dancing Dark Lord. It was one of my more irritating six brothers.

You see, George decided it would be a splendidly corking idea to hide in my closet and fill my clothes with the twins' new invention, Tremendous Tickling Powder, to see if it worked the same on girls as it does with boys.

When I opened my closet door and found him sitting on my school trunk and dumping powder all over my clothes, I screamed. My scream caused him to fall off the trunk and dump the Tickling Powder all over my closet and himself in the process. I immediately pulled my wand off my desk and pointed it straight at his face, fully intending to curse him into next Quidditch season.

Then, because I have the lungs of my mother and anyone who can't hear her scream from within a ten mile radius is either deaf or smart enough to ignore it, the rest of my family came bursting into my room. I think they must have thought I was being attacked or something because they were all panicky and holding their wands. Well, except Ron. He was holding a toothbrush. I will never know why he was brushing his teeth at three in the morning.

Anyway, they came in and found me pointing my wand at George, who was rolling around on the floor of my closet laughing his lungs out under a huge, white cloud of Tickling Powder dust.

3:33 AM

Mum yelled for approximately ten minutes. We're both grounded for a week.

3:34 AM

That's right, I got grounded because my idiot brother attempted to infest all my clothes with Tickling Powder in the middle of the night. Where is the justice in this house?

3:35 AM

Hang on, how can she even ground George for a week? He and Fred are moving into the flat above their joke shop in two days.

So I'm the only one getting punished for my brother completely invading my privacy?

That's it. I'm going to attempt to go back to bed in order to have a very detailed dream that may or may not involve George and a huge smelly troll with a very large bat.

4:15 AM

I give up on going back to sleep. Apparently, Fred and George have yet to finish the antidote for their stupid powder and George is still laughing upstairs while Fred tries to fix what they have of the antidote. He sounds like a duck in labor.

George does, that is. Not Fred.

4:17 AM

I think I'm going to go bang my head on the wall and see if it knocks me unconscious so I can get some sleep in this blasted house.

4:22 AM

Ow, ow, OW.

4:30 AM

Oh Merlin. Harry Potter is coming here tomorrow and I have absolutely nothing to wear.

4:32 AM

No. Seriously. It's all filled with Tickling Powder. All I can wear that won't make me laugh until I explode are the pajamas I'm currently in. They're rather loud pajamas, too. They're bright green and have Snitches flying all over them.

No, I did not buy them because I was thinking about Harry Potter, thank you very much.

I happen to like Snitches. And green. Which you should understand.

Bogey lover.

4:37 AM

I wonder if I sound this irksome when I laugh. Someone would tell me if I had a duck laugh, right?

5:03 AM

George finally stopped laughing upstairs. I have to admit, Fred works fast. Then again, he sort of had to considering the honking duck laugh would keep him awake even worse than it did me.

5:10 AM

I wonder if Harry will like my Snitch pajamas.