Sept. 2, 1972

Dear Dumb Diary,

Sorry I didn't write the date before, but in case you're wondering I'm in fifth year and there's the date right above this entry.

James was avoiding me in the corridors today. He kept averting his eyes and looking down at the marble staircase whenever I flashed the Look at him. It's ever so interesting, because only Christ knows that he loves to play pranks, jokes, and tricks on me. Like last term. He insulted me by looking directly at my face and saying playfully, "Do you want to see something absolutely repulsive? I'm looking right at it." Only Black and Pettigrew laughed at that one (Peter was fed Pepperup Potion and he's good as new, only his ears are smoking somewhat).

And – this might come as a big shock to you – I'm writing from the hospital wing!

It's all that James' fault. When he wasn't looking, he accidentally ran into me and knocked me out (head collision is very effective).

When I finally snapped my green eyes open, Madam Pomfrey was leaning over me and forcing some Bruise Brew down my throat. You couldn't have chosen a worse time to wake up, Dumb Diary. I choked it all down, and Madam Pomfrey got me a sausage and five glasses of herb tea from the Herbology class.

I gulped it all down and suddenly noticed James lying in the bed next to me. I let out a yelp, and Madam Pomfrey impatiently shrieked at me to shut my piehole (the nurse can be mean if she wants to). His face was coated in plum-coloured bruises and his eye was charcoal-coloured. I watched, terrified, as Madam Pomfrey made her damn way to the idiot boy and used a careful eyedropper to put it down his throat. Being a boy has its priveleges.

Madam Pomfrey just dropped by to say that I'm going to go to my Transfiguration class in a moment. I'm going to scribble the rest down before I have to leave.

Today, Sirius and Remus dropped by to see James. He's still knocked out. I don't feel the least bit guilty – after all, it's all his fault – but they both glared at me. I gulped and looked down at my peachy blue sheets. While they slapped his face (Madam Pomfrey wasn't looking, of course) to check if he was alive, I twisted a strand of my fiery-red hair around my unusually long index finger, so as you can see, Dumb Diary, it took a long time to unravel. Madam Pomfrey caught Sirius slapping James' bruised cheek, she kicked them out.

Adios, Dumb Diary. Madam Pomfrey told me to leave before she alerted the Headmaster, Dumbledore.

Signed, Lily Evans.

P.S. There's no P.S. this time – oh, damn.