Authors Note: Yep. I'm back. I'd say, "Guess who's back, back again!" but I won't, because: A. I'm back for the first time. Not again. And, B. I already told you, whores. It's me. Anyway, this is a fanfiction. This is not a bass test. I repeat, this is the real thing.

AUTHOR'S NOTE TWO, YO: I am redoing this, yes. Yes. I am. And right now is when the time that I am redoing this is coming around.

Name of Fanfiction: I Am Harry's Cold Sweat.

Genre: Harry Potter.

Rating: PG-13 to R.

Description: Harry finds himself keeping a cynical diary of his summer, then his seventh, and last year at Hogwarts, talking about everything from his anger, to his two recent crushes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, mmkay? The whole "I am Harry's Cold Sweat" came from Fight Club, which I just FINALLY saw last night. I thought the line was genius, so sue me. Anyway, I own nothing, except for Rayleigh, a sixth year that follows him around

July 22

Sixth year is over. I am once again back at the Dursley's. They want to put me on a Muggle anti-depressant called Prazak (!) or something, maybe it was Prozac. But then I asked them, "Why do you care how I feel?" and I was answered with a sharp jab from Dudley's smelting stick! He still has that damned thing, and I've developed a blue-green-yellow bruise from it.

Neither Hermione nor Ron have owled me, save for my birthday presents. I got a box of Bertie Botts from Ron, along with a short letter that read, "See you, Harry", and a T-Shirt that read 'I Went to Yorkshire and All I Got My Friend Was This Wonky Tee Shirt'. I'm pretty sure she made it herself, due to the lack of a neck-hole.

Oh, and guess what? The D.'s have left me. All alone. I wonder if this is another plan, like the 5th year one. Dear Merlin, I bloody hope so. I'm sick of being here, without food, heat, or a decent pair of pants. I've been growing a lot lately, and I don't like it. I think that Merlin is trying to punish me even more by making me the raved-haired equivalent of Ron, in the growth department, anyhow.

August 1

Sorry I haven't written. The Weasley's rescued me week or so ago from the place I like to call Hell, so there's been a lot of excitement, y'know? Anywho, like I was saying (or was I?), the Weasley's rescued me, and I must say that Fred/George is becoming even more brilliant every day. They put tiny, toasty toads in my socks. I have no idea how they got them to be both toasty AND tiny.

I saw Ginny. She gave me this look like she had the stomach flu, and marched off to her room. I soon later learned from Ron that she does have the stomach flu. Jesu Christi, or whatever, what a time I have chosen to come to the Weasley clan. Their younger cousin, Rayleigh, is over too. She gives me the creeps. Well, not really. She's actually pretty nice looking, but she has that kind of crazed "I will stalk you, and you'll like it" grin.

August 4

Now I know why I don't like Rayleigh. It's because she's pure evil. I saw her lurking around my room last night. I confronted her, and this is how our conversation went:

Me: Rayleigh… Can I have a word?

Rayleigh: No.

M: I'm assuming that means yes.

R: No.

M: Anyway. STOP LURKING. Good night.

R: Right.

Sense her guilty-ness I can. I told Ron my suspicions, and he just gave me an odd look, and said, "Mate, you're getting kind of crazy... I think you should lay off the Fire Whiskey," and gave me a pitying look.

Fire Whiskey my arse. I think what he meant was to lay off the crazy. HOWEVER! I am not crazy. Not crazy at all. Humph. Who does Ron think he is? MY MOTHER? Wait, don't answer that… knowing him…

A/N: To be continued. I'm not creative right now, but I just want the basis down, you dig?