A Piece of His Soul/A Day in the Life of an Evil Young Genius
Author: Gyptian
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Humor
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Entry #1495
Status: Bored
Location: Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, Divination Classroom.
Time: 14:45 (Thank Salazar)
I could not imagine a more mind-numbing and utterly useless subject than that of trying to see the future in the leftovers of a perfectly horrible cup of Oolong. Wendersgale should be put out of our misery. I have no intention whatsoever of divining whether I'll meet Emerson again tomorrow. Of course I will, I just have to ask, not discover it with some vague supernatural intuition.
Merlin, that Trelawney is making eyes at the teacher again. Horrible Hufflefluff, as nauseating as the pink bunny and white daisy world they propagate. She's even charmed her hair long! Not that it makes her look anything less like an insect, she's just a hairy insect now. Is she drooling? Yes she's drooling! Oh, what did I ever do to deserve a class with such a pathetic excuse of a Mudblood! She's worse than Waddling Worple, and that is a true piece of work. I wonder if his parents threw him in the basement…
There's an idea of how to get rid of this prattle. Perhaps if I ask Filch nicely, he'll lend me some of those chains he's always on about.
Ye honoured ancestor, have mercy on your heir and absolve him of this torture!
Entry #1496
Status: Despairing
Location: The same circle of hell as before
Time: An entire eternity shoved into five minutes later
Counting down from 600 is not helping, and neither is ignoring the Mudblood. She's being too bloody obvious to be ignored. My ancestor is not in a forgiving mood today, apparently.
Ah well, another meeting of the Club after this class. Another session of languishing in the unique aroma wafting from Wiggerhill's armpits. I've been looking forward to it the entire week. I'm desperate for it. It has become the sole point of light in my miserable life. Maybe I should cut the sarcasm now. It wouldn't become one such as myself to be too obvious, of course.
Talking of obvious, Wendersgale is coming this way. Glaring. She is truly intimidating. Terrifying. I should really cut the sarcasm.
Entry #1497
Status: Beyond comprehending the workings of the Universe.
Location: A place worse than any hell imaginable.
Time: To say goodbye to this life before it becomes any worse, though I don't see how it could.
Oh tell me what I did wrong, why I deserve this? Is there some vengeful God out to get me? Is some anonymous heir of Gryffindor out for my blood? Have the ghosts of my past conspired to enact their horrendous crimes once again?
Someone or something has thought it would be a funny idea to lock the door of the classroom while I was packing. While I was one of the last ones left. The other one, in fact, being the deranged Mudblood. They closed the door. I can't open it. I've tried every locking spell I know and I can't open it. It's not opening. Not opening. Open! Damn you, by all that is Slytherin, bloody well open!
The only reason I have not gone completely insane yet is that the Mudblood cow is looking lost and miserable. Not all has gone wrong in this place. Not everything is pear-shaped.
She's starting to sniff now, oh Salazar. Her eyes are becoming bright. O no, she's bowing her head. Her shoulders are trembling. One of her hands is plucking a garish scarf from the repulsive collection she keeps wrapped around her neck. She's crying. Ah, ye great founder have mercy!
Entry #1498
Status: Numb
Location: The same
Time: I lost track
She's stopped crying. Inventing methods of wreaking havoc and vengeance on whoever decided it was a good idea to lock me in here has lost its appeal. Watching sunset as if I'm a love-struck little Gryffindork has cost me the last shred of pride I possessed. I shall now proceed to commit suicide in the dignified and memorable way befitting a member of the only respectable House Hogwarts has.
Entry #1499
Status: Enraged
Location: Deep in dark thoughts
Time: After dinner
I am deeply insulted, and someone shall pay. Trelawney, in a fit of Hufflefluff virtue, took the knife I intended to slice my wrists with. And, as if it were planned, dinner appeared before I could demand it back.
I admit I was ravenous after the emotional turmoil I suffered at the hands of fate. At least I though it was the hands of fate. It turned out to be the hands of some filthy individuals who will regret the day their parents decided to bring forth despicable devil's spawn.
How I know, well, a card had appeared along with plates and a stack of sandwhiches. It wished a "Pleasant dinner to the Love Birds." And that was not even the worst. The
Mudblood blushed when she read it. After which she batted her eyelashes. At me. Me! Me! Filth disgracing me with an act so horrendous it is beyond words.
I shall lie down and contemplate how to implement my brilliant plots. No one will dare cross me again.
Entry #1500
Status: Awake
Location: the furthest corner I could find from the Hufflefluff
Time: Saturday, sometime in the morning
Oh cruel, cruel fate. Oh poor, poor me. I fear to speculate what sins I committed to deserve this.
I woke up this morning to hands on my person, a body violating my privacy as casually as you please. She even snuggled up to me. What have I not yet endured that could aggravate the situation more? She woke from my scream. Manly yell, I mean. Damnit, why won't the erasing charm work? She has been prattling on all morning, cheerful and oblivious as only an inferior life form could be.
And I can't do away with the body without leaving a trace or implicating myself, or I would have killed her a long time ago.
By my calculations, no one will come to investigate until at least this afternoon. Stuck here for another six hours at least! That's three hundred and sixty minutes, each consisting of sixty sluggish, slow seconds.
Speaking of Slug, I missed the meeting, and with that some valuable information. Someone is going to have to pay, as soon as I recover from this trauma.
Entry #1501
Status: Satisfied
Location: In charge
Time: Saturday afternoon
The situation, defying both my expectations and my non-existent hope, has improved. I should have thought earlier of this, considering my vast intelligence and quick-witted mind. My senses might have been just a bit addled from the dire circumstances, but that was no excuse to cower like that Hufflefluff Mudlblood is doing now.
She's not crying now, no, she's wailing. Screaming for help, not aware of the Silencio I cast. Yes, a bit of Parseltongue and she was not as eager to spout non-sense anymore. A well-placed hex and she was a mere puddle of fright at my celestial feet. She should be honoured. Frightened will suffice.