(Fred writes this diary entry the night his family stayed in the Leaky Cauldron in Ch. 4 of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.)
Aug. 31, 1993
Dear Diary,
I'm writing from the Leaky Cauldron, where we arrived this morning. Dad told us he didn't want to have to rush to King's Cross tomorrow morning. That seemed reasonable enough, but Dad let slip that some Ministry cars were taking us to the station. Ministry cars. The same cars Fudge tears 'round London in when he's not writing "Dear Abby" letters to Dumbledore. Dad's a good bloke and a good wizard (I've seen him do a neat bit of enchanting on a blander, a kind of muggle house elf that chews your food for you) but before today I'd have said the Ministry lending dad a car was more unlikely than Percy resigning as head boy. George and I agreed: something stinks. We tried to do a bit of poking around for information—you know, engorging our ears and listening through the crack of mum and dad's door—but nothing doing. All we learned was that they're really worried about Sirius Black, really. George reckoned it might be to do with Harry. Said Sirius Black might be looking for a really dark wizard to rejoin and figure Harry might be worth checking into as he beat the best dark wizard of the age before he could control his bladder. Well, of course I told him he was barking, obviously got too much sun in Egypt, because Harry turning into a dark wizard is about as likely as Percy making England's national team. Pfff. Imagine.
"George Weasley, use your head for the first time today and march up to Percy's room and nick his head boy badge," I ordered in my best mum voice.
Not only had he nicked the badge when he came down, he'd bewitched it to read "Bighead Boy," the cheeky lad. He knows how to cut to the core of me. Sometimes I feel like we're the same person. When he realized it was gone, Percy started searching his room like a witch who's lost her pantyhose. George and I were having a right good laugh about all this when Hermione spotted us and as she stalked over like a harpy.
"You two are absolute fuckers," she said, and walked off to her room. Not everyone knows this about Hermione, but she's the biggest potty mouth at Hogwarts. Most people only see her in classes, and I'm sure in that setting, in front of professors who think she's absolutely brilliant, and who control house points and grades and letters of recommendation, she's careful not to let anything slip. But the Gryffindor Tower's another story. Most Gryffindors leave the common room by ten every night, and the reason why is because that's the time Hermione comes back from studying in the library, and if you're still talking quietly or looking cheerful when she gets back to the common room to study some more, she'll bite your head off with some of the most vulgar language a 13-year-old's ever uttered. On the first school night last year, Colin Crevey, who hadn't heard about The Hermione Rule on account of being a first year and always talking Harry's head off, was once again talking Harry's head off a bit past the tenth hour. Well, Hermione came in and I don't even want to write about what happened it was so horrible. Colin got petrified by a basilisk later that year and he looked better after that than when Hermione got done with him. A week later, Professor McGonagall lined up all us Gryffindors in the common room and asked why Colin hadn't spoken in her class all week. Hermione stood up right away and said, "Oh, Professor McGonagall, Colin's dog died last week. Didn't you know?" A dementor would have a good job finding a soul in that girl.
Anyways, after she'd called us that word I felt dreadful. George always puts on a tough show whenever Hermione has a go at us, but I feel like I've been falling behind lately. "Treat her like a little girl, and soon she'll start acting like one," Dad advised Ron when Ginny used to beat him up for his chocolate frog cards before he went to Hogwarts. I've overheard her talking with Ron and Harry and she's really very sweet with them. She comforted Harry when everybody thought he was the Heir of Slytherin last year, and she made Ron feel like he matters. Ron told me once that she trusts you, she lays off the foul language. She's tan now too. And she shot up this summer, like a brunette sunflower. It must be something to do with the French air…Well, George is coming so that'll be all for now.