Title: Not-so-Sweet Sixteen
Characters/Pairings: Minerva McGonagall, Pomona Sprout, Enid/Devon (OC)
Rating/Warnings: T

A/N – Welcome to my first Harry Potter fan fic! I hope you will enjoy following a teenage Minerva McGonagall as she navigates the joys and hardships of life as a witch. Ratings will vary depending on the journal entry, but to be safe, I have rated this "T."

Also, please note, this will be updated only periodically, not on a regular basis.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

Not-so-Sweet Sixteen

4 October, 1951

Dear Diary:

Today I'm sixteen. This should be a happy day, one filled with celebrating (I know Enid baked a chocolate cake for me; she always does on my birthday). I should look forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, where I plan to purchase a bag bursting with my favorite sweets, but instead, I feel very much alone. I'm surrounded by good friends at a school that I love, playing a sport I adore, yet somehow, that's no longer enough.

Quidditch is going well; I scored three goals during our last game and felt quite proud of myself. It looks like our team might have a real chance to win the Cup this year. I'd love to rub the Cup right in Milda's face; she's a nasty, self-involved braggart, always crowing about the "absolute perfection" of Slytherin Quidditch team. I can picture myself shoving the cup against her long nose. "Do you smell that, Milda? It's the sweet scent of Gryffindor's victory! Take that, Slytherin House!"

Sorry, I got carried away with the Quidditch talk...

My grades are excellent, as always. I don't write that to sound self-congratulatory, but good grades have always come easily. Yes, I'm a good student and excel at my lessons, especially Transfiguration. But I'm failing at love. What good is it to have top marks and academic success if I can't find love? I often ask myself what I'm doing wrong, why I can't attract a boy's attention. Is it because I'm not attractive enough? Am I too serious? Too dedicated to my studies? Do I seem unapproachable? I ask these things of myself every day, but I have no answer.

All right, I know why I feel even more alone that usual, I'll confess. It's because Devon asked Enid to dinner at The Three Broomsticks, and the very next day, they were a couple, just like that. My best girlfriend, Enid's in love. Everyone's in love! Except me. It's unfair! If I have to face another Valentine's Day watching all my friends out on dates, smiling and happy, I'll vomit, I swear. I pretend it doesn't bother me, and I usually hole-up in the library on Valentine's Day, but this year, I may run through the halls and blast happy couples with my wand. Don't worry, I wouldn't really do that, but I feel like it. Especially if horrible Milda has a date, like she always does.

What do I have to do to get boys to notice me? Act like Milda, flip my hair around, wear too-short skirts and pretend that I'm stupid? Douse myself in that awful, cloying perfume she wears? Pad my brassiere and stick out my chest? Slather on so much makeup that I look like a clown? No. I won't do those things. That's not me. If a boy's going to like me, he has to accept me as I am.

But maybe how I am is not what boys want.

I should talk to Pomona about this. She's a good friend, too. And she's brutally honest, unlike dear Enid, who'd simply tell me what I want to hear. Pomona doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. "I'm fat, so what?" she says with a laugh. She strides around, confident, and even though she's plump, often foul-mouthed, and a little wild, boys still fawn all over her. I want to be more like her – honest and true and brave. If only there was a potion for that, I'd drink it down in a heartbeat.

Anyway, I know this sounds dramatic, but sometimes, I feel like I'm sinking in a black sea of loneliness, even when surrounded by friends and teammates. But I shouldn't complain. I should be mature and responsible. I should face the rest of my birthday with a smile on my face. After all, good things exist in my life, too.

I suppose that's all for today. I hear Enid storming up the stairs to our dormitory. It must be time for us to wolf down that chocolate cake.

But wait, I have one last question! No, two: Will love find me one day? And what is a life without love?