Harry Potter's Diary: The Edge of Wizardry

Disclaimer: Any brain fever suffered from the utter tosh that is written here I humbly apologise for. In other news, I have no claim to anything, or character, created by JK. Rowling and I appreciate the inspiration of Bridget Jones's Diary.

******************** August: Part One ********************

Entry One:

Height: taller than cat, smaller than my uncle. About 3ft.maybe 4ft? (never good with spatial relations.) Weight: 5st. v. good Alcohol units: None. Am under age. Damn damn damn. Would definitely ease the pain of living with Dursleys. Spiders Propositioning Me: four. v. bad.

Am living under the stairs. Rather cosy really, and the spiders are tolerable. Have made friends with many and call them by name. On first name basis with the dust bunnies and am inviting them around for tea. Hmmm.do not actually have way to boil water, as no kettle under the stairs. No tea either. And no water. Will have to cancel tea date then. Just as well as is imaginary any way.

Am v. lonely. Want to die. Am fashion reject in fat cousins clothing. Hate the Dursleys. Hate real parents for dying in car crash and leaving me here all alone. Hate damn scar. Scars are so last year. Little round glasses, too. Shudder. Kill me. And don't forget the hair, this godawful, unmanageable hair. Would sue all hair product manufactures if only Dursleys would let me out of the house.



Entry Two

Height: still taller than a cat and shorter than my uncle Weight: 4st. v.v.good (was denied food after zoo episode) Alcohol units: still none. Spider's Propositioning Me: none. v. disappointing (am unloved) Dangerous animals set loose: one (pat self on back)

Is awful cousin's birthday. Had to listen to the fat saturated sponge complain about lack of presents this morning while I cooked the bacon. He received only thirty-five. Sigh. Have never got a birthday present in my life. (Hate my life.)

Am going to zoo. Was threatened repeatedly by my uncle, but threats not scary anymore, just tedious. Not quite sure what a zoo is, as have never been let out of the house before. Fear it is some sort of strange place where people are prodded and snickered at. Dursleys are obviously sadists and that would be their idea of fun.

Later:

Zoo was v. fun. Is actually a place where animals are prodded and snickered at, so I was relieved all things considered. Talked with a snake and set it free from its cage. Everyone screamed and yelled and ran while I smiled. Quite enjoyable. Fear I might be a bit psychotic. I blame my traumatic up bringing. Will send the Dursleys all the psychology bills.

Still hating my life.

Entry Three:

Height: With strange new sticky uppy haircut, the same as my uncle (5ft?) Not counting hair, shorter than my uncle (2ft?) Weight: 4st. continuing good work (though cannot be helped as am still not allowed to eat.) Alcohol units: none. Though I drank a pretend martini in letter receiving celebration. Spiders propositioning me: None. Killed them all in anger. Letter's received: One. Hurrah!

Was ordinary day full of self wallowing in self pity (though who else's pity I was to wallow in is unclear) when a letter arrived for me in the post. From a place called Hoggywas? No, that's not right. Maybe it was Hogfarts? Or Higwig? Anyway, am not sure of its geographical location as have never taken a geography class. Pout. Still, suspect that it is someplace full of strange fashion victims as cannot fathom any other place trying to get hold of me.

Unimportant really, though, because in the end the F.S.S (fat saturated sponge) ripped it out of my hands and gave it to my uncle. He tore it up.

Hate my life.

Entry Four:

Height: Shorter than yesterday, if I counted my hair. Weight: 41/2 st. Why? How? Am obviously natural phenomena as have inexplicably created mass. Letter's Received: Many. Hurrah squared!

Obviously this Wart place is desperate to get a hold of someone with my lack of fashion sense qualities. They sent many more letters. Before could touch them though, uncle was burning them. He is nailing the mail slot shut. V. angry.

Am wallowing in self-pity. Dudley gave me a swirlie today. Strangely hair seems more manageable than usually. Perhaps will dunk hair in toilet more often. Yes, am definitely psychotic.

Still hate my life, but am rather chuffed about hair. If only could do something about broken eyeglasses and horrible disfiguring scar.

Entry Five:

Height: Same Weight: 4 ½ stone Am not a phenomena today. Letter's Received: Hundreds. V. popular.

Was serving biscuits to the F.S.S when suddenly letters began shooting out of the fireplace. V. odd but as am psychotic I found nothing terrifying about the situation. Instead managed to catch one and get a good look at the sender: Hogwarts. Also noted an unusually large number of owls perched in the yard. Hope they crap all over the Dursleys' car. Am v. pleased as am v. popular today. House was full to the brim with letters for me, so Uncle had an extra task trying to rip them up. He got many paper cuts. Would have squeezed lemon juice on his had but couldn't get hold of a lemon.

Oh, just heard Uncle run upstairs (he makes a distinct earthquake noise). He appears to be demanding the family pack up. I think he has lost it. Keeps muttering about the 'm' word. Wait. This isn't censored. Why should I censor my own diary?! Magic, magic, MAGIC! Heehee. It's fun to curse.

Still, all in all, hate my life.



Entry Six

Weight: 4 ½ st. Letter's Received: None. Why? For what? Cannot explain sudden lack in popularity.

Everything is worse than usually. Instead of sleeping in a small bed cramped under the stairs am being forced to spend the night on the cold floor of a stone cabin on the middle of a rocky island. Uncle has clearly gone insane. He seems to think we can escape the post this way. It all seems a bit excessive to me. F.S.S. got the old smelly couch to sleep on; hope it is filled with bed bugs. Heehee. Am v. sad about no letters though, as postal service may be good but it is not row-across-stormy- waters-to-questionably-stable-rocky-island good.

Is my birthday tomorrow. Sigh. Wish I was dead. No, wait. Wish the Dursleys were dead.

Hate my life. Feel like cursing.

MAGIC! MAGIC! MAGIC! Mwhahaha. Feel a little better.