Mmm, day off… except it isn't, because I don't get days off, remember? I'm Little Miss Know-It-All who barely has a life outside the library. But I'm not, that's not me. And yes, admittedly a large part of my day so far has been spent in the library, but I wasn't… that is, I didn't have to be because I've caught up on my work for the next week, but I did do some preliminary reading for another project – but, see, that didn't count because it was basic and it was enjoyable and book-worms are allowed to read on their days off. So it was a day off, for me at any rate, and it was most enjoyable and frankly continues to be most enjoyable and should keep on being enjoyable as long as a certain red-head sticks to our pattern.
But as long as I'm smart I can't be normal and as long as I'm Harry's friend I can't push Voldemort to the back of my mind though I have, somewhat, since Parvati's almost back to normal and there haven't been any attacks in the weeks since. Does that mean I'm not his friend? Oh, don't be ridiculous, of course I'm his friend. Even though we hardly have any free time together any more.
The last time we spent any amount of time as a group was at the Hallowe'en Feast. And admittedly it was only last week, but before that was… well, it was probably my birthday, and that's coming up for two months ago. Really, the only one I've seen is Ron. Maybe I should have asked if I could go to Hogsmeade with Ginny – but I suppose it only takes one person to run an errand. And then there's Harry, always busy with his lessons.
It must be amazing, learning all that really advanced magic, but I think he's getting a little frustrated by the amount of time it takes. Still, he'll be doing seventh-year work by Christmas, and after that, who knows? Of course he'll have to catch up on all the other stuff at some point, like that essay I'm supposed to help Ron with, but they'll probably be kind and only make him do the necessary stuff. Ron will probably do better in his O.W.L.s than Harry, just because he doesn't have all this other stuff to worry about. It's not that Ron's stupid, or anything; he just doesn't try. Of course, I'll beat both of them.
I know there are a lot of other things to worry about, but I care how well I do at school. I think it's because it's something I can control, something I'm good at, something that depends on me and only on me. It's like a validation of who I am, because it doesn't matter if I'm not pretty and I'm not popular when I'm the one getting the best results. Though I suppose I must technically be popular merely be virtue of being one of Harry Potter's best friends. And Rita Skeeter seemed to think I was pretty – I think the word she used was "stunningly". I wonder how she's doing, lately. Haven't seen anything by her in a while, come to think of it. Poor little bug.
It would be fantastic to be an Animagus. I wonder how hard it really is, seeing as I now know of four unregistered Animagi – though it only really counts as twice since three of them did it together. Perhaps I should ask Professor McGonagall. It could be a useful skill, and if I can argue that school-children have done it before I might be able to persuade her. I wonder what I would be. I think I'd like to be a bird. I see the joy the boys take in flying, but I don't feel it. I'm just not that comfortable with a broom. I can't let go and just fly. If I was a bird – an owl, I think, maybe a barn owl – maybe I could fly free. Maybe I could feel that joy.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Do the words "too damn quiet" mean anything to you? Because it's been almost two months since the last attacks, and they affected us the most so far, and this is by far the longest wait there's been without even a minor attack (and I am fully aware of the irony of that statement when every one of the attacks under the Dark Mark has utilised at least one of the Unforgivables). Not that I'm complaining, or anything, but the first reason I can think of for waiting like this is to build up your forces for a major attack. So I'm worried. And scared. And really irritated because nobody else is seeing this and it's so damn obvious!
I thought they'd do something for Hallowe'en, I really did. I was reading up on the War twenty years ago, and they liked doing things for events… well, I knew that anyway. But Hallowe'en, in particular, I would expect an attack. Unless Voldemort's superstitious about losing his power again, or something.
You know what I heard the other day? You know what that bimbo of a third year said? "Oh, maybe they just stopped". Excuse me? Please? That's not how these things work! There are rules for this type of thing, certain points of etiquette. And one of them is that once you start something like this, you see it through to the bitter end, because you don't start something like this at all unless you're committed. So once you've killed, you keep on killing. You can't "just stop"!
Maybe that's the whole problem.
I just can't stand the waiting. Because that's what this is, I don't doubt it. Even if I'm the only one who seems to see it.
Oh, maybe I'm wrong. It's not like I know anything, after all.
I certainly don't understand Hermione. She sits next to me, she snuggles up to me when we're in semi-private: but apart from that, she hasn't changed a bit, so I assume I'm still just her friend. Which is fine by me. But confusing.
Shouldn't she blush, or something? Shouldn't she be sneaking looks at me, and stammering when I talk to her? Though that would make conversation difficult. Maybe she doesn't like me. I mean, why should she? I'm not much. So, yeah, probably she doesn't like me and she just figures that we're close enough friends that it's OK for her to use me as a cushion. Though if that's the case, why isn't she using Harry. Oh, whoops. Couldn't be comfortable, leaning against those ribs. Mum'll flip next time she sees him, and try to feed him up.
Of course, I also have a History of Magic essay due in on Monday. Which means a fair amount of time spent with Hermione. Harry, lucky sod that he is, is exempt due to his extra lessons. I don't get why he made such a big deal out of it, taking a week to tell us and all. It's only practical that he gets trained up now. He's not safe. And if he pretends he is… well, he's not and pretending really won't help. So off he'll go to his lessons and here we'll stay together. Waiting. I don't like waiting.
Honestly, though, for this: I can wait. For his sake. If it's going to make him safer then I'll wait all night if I have to. For the other – hell, I could wait till the end of time.
I won't wait for her, though. I have to find out, one way or the other. Any day now.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Things I have learned: the wand is a weapon. Never relinquish your weapon. The wand is a helpmate. Respect your helpmate. The wand is… Hell. The wand is many things. But the wand is nothing without your magic. So you are the weapon and the helpmate and the doctor and everything else. It all comes down to you.
This is what I have learned.
Unfortunately, I can't seem to use the damn wand, and I certainly can't use me. And I'm not even on the hard stuff, yet.
But I'm not supposed to be on the hard stuff. I'm supposed to be sitting in the library with Ron sweating over the essay Hermione finished three days ago. Instead, she finished it five days ago without me around distracting her; he's conned her into helping him; and I have an exemption so I can sit here in Faber's office and wait (and wait and wait) for him to come back from his "urgent errand" to Hogsmeade. Sounds familiar – errand to Hogsmeade. Oh, Ginny and that book for McGonagall. It was lucky I bumped into her, actually. Some Chocolate Frogs should do as a peace-offering for Ron. It's not like I've been around much lately. It's not my fault, and he knows it; and he encouraged me to do them because he's got a fair grasp on the reality of it, and he knows that I will need it. I still feel like I'm abandoning him. He was paying twice as much attention to Hermione even before I started this, though, so maybe I'll just keep the sweets for myself. I suppose I should give some to Ginny…
The note Faber left said he would try to get back in time, and just to wait because there was no way he would be more than ten minutes late. I got here half-an-hour ago, and I don't know how much longer I'm going to wait.
I suppose I could practise the breathing exercises he showed me. Sounds a bit weird, but they do help calm me down. Well, not that precisely… um, centre myself, that's it. But then I try to do something and I can't and I get angry and that makes it worse and so I have to go through them all again and feel like even more of an idiot until I snap or he has to leave or it just gets too late to keep going. He never snaps. He's scarily controlled. That's probably why no-one's particularly happy with him as a teacher. It's not human. Well, I'm fairly sure he's human. Maybe I should ask him: you never can be sure in this place. But… yeah. At least, if you're getting yelled at, you know there's some emotion there.
Hermione says Snape's clinically depressed. Funny, I don't remember her getting a medical degree. I don't really care. He hated my father and he hates my godfather and he hates me. I really don't care about him.
Heroes aren't supposed to hate.
I like this room. It's fairly plain, and the basic decoration hasn't changed any of the times I've been here, and the only items Faber has added are a few tools of the Auror trade, but it's nice. It has a good view: over the grounds and out towards Hogsmeade.
I spy with my little eye… OK, with my Omnioculars that I shoved in my bag a few days ago so I could… well, spy. Um, anyway, I see: some people wandering around the grounds; a flash of movement out on the lake – I wonder which of the creatures it was that time, it was too fast for me to tell; the Whomping Willow lazily waving its branches; and if I strain my eyes I can almost see…
Shit.
The Dark Mark.
Over Hogsmeade.
