It was a day like any other. I was frantically restocking shelves as fast as the school-aged children bought them. It was a busy time of year for us. As I stocked a display at the front of the store, I looked out the window to the bustling street that was Diagon Alley. I almost didn't see her through the passing crowds of people. She sat alone at a table outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. As usual, she had a book open in front of her. But instead of reading it, she seemed to writing it. Her ice cream sundae, barely touched, was melting in the sun. Her quill moved quickly across the page. Nothing looked out of place except her furrowed eyebrows and puffy red eyes. Something was wrong… She suddenly slammed the quill onto the table and ripped the page out of the book. The quick jerk of her hand knocked her sundae to the ground. The glass dish broke upon the cobble stone street. She angrily crumpled the paper in her hands and threw it to the open trash bin near the door. Her attention immediately returned to the mess of glass, and did not notice that the paper had fallen off the rim of the bin, onto the shadowed ground under the shop window. With a flick of her wand, the ice cream vanished, and another wave repaired the glass dish. She closed her book carefully and looked up for the first time. Tears were running down her soft cheeks. She turned on her heel and disapperated.
I informed George that I was going to step out for a minute. He looked flustered as I left him in a swarm of excited children. He'd forgive me if I bought him an ice cream. I walked across the street and directly into the shadows that hid the crumpled, discarded paper. I smoothed it out the best I could. It looked like the page of a journal. Both sides of the paper were covered in Hermione's loopy, miniscule handwriting, though it seemed to look a little rushed and angry. I flipped it over again and started to read.
Aug. 26, 2000
Life is just too hard sometimes. I struggle through every day, no one understanding or caring how I feel. Everyone thinks that because I'm strong-willed that I'm somehow unbreakable or unfeeling. I put all of myself in everything that I do just to watch as my efforts go unnoticed. Today I submitted my proposal to the head of our department and he almost literally laughed in my face. I understand that my ambitions for house elves are ideas that will take years to be considered, but I did feel that ending physical abuse of house elves was rather realistic. I almost cried at the response. The weeks of effort I put in on my own time, just to have my proposal laughably tossed aside. I feel absolutely humiliated. How worthless all my efforts have been. I desperately need a friend to talk to. It hurts so much – I don't want to be alone. But I actually feel even more alone when I think of my friends. I know that if I go to any of them, they will actually laugh in my face. They have shown me time and time again how silly and ridiculous they think my ideas are. Silly little Hermione and her crazy ideas. They could never understand just what this means to me. Sometimes I feel as alone and apart from the world as one of the beings that I strive to protect, and like them, I'm misunderstood and uncared for. What's the use in trying? Maybe I am just stupid and unrealistic. If everyone else thinks so, I must be. Sometimes it feels like life just isn't worth living. Sometimes I just want to end it all. What's the point of living if you're alone and worthless? It seems that nobody really even knows me. Could I even be really missed? I wish
The entry was not finished. She'd just had enough. I stared at the page, not knowing what to do. I had no idea, before now, how hurt and alone she was. My insides felt like lead. What could I do to help?
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