* Thank you, thank you, thank you! My story was very nicely accepted; I really love reviews! Now, I had all the names to thank written down... and then cleaned my room and lost them. Sorry! But as for a few comments: Ingia's stories? Honored and charmed, but not quite. There are a few differences, but you're right, the two of us do follow the same train of thought. The prefect deal: bear with me. It'll get explained. Also, this will go kinda slow... please hang on for me, it'll make all the difference! Frankly, I really don't like to much of this chapter, but I had to fill in the first half of August before we get the the magical world. Now, enough of my blabber, read on and forgive me if it isn't as good. I promise some good ones WILL be up.! :-)

July 31, afternoon

Okay, I am now on the airplane and have time to kill… so, naturally, I have little to write about. Except that Viktor and I are lousy at saying good-bye. We ended up smiling as shyly as we first met and stealing half-glances at each other more than talking, trust me - no poetic words of farewell here. It was very original -

"Good-bye, Hermyohneh. Thank you very much for coming."

"'Bye, Viktor. And… thanks. I really, really had a good time."

The English language is not very sufficient, I've noticed of late.

Although earlier Mr. Krum talked to me… and this may sound self-centered, but I've discovered I have a very natural human trait of liking praise… he said I'm very mature for my age and he was very glad that his son had met me… and that I was welcome back anytime, and I doubt that's something he says often. Even Mrs. Krum got a bit teary-eyed - can you imagine? But, I'm sorry, but I just certainly won't miss her in the slightest. Very good thing Kapolei got back safely. Did I mention she had been fussing over that for a time, too?

So now it's over, but it's really okay, in a way, because I'm a tad bit homesick still. I mean, I haven't seen Mum and Dad in ages, and in another month I'll be back at school, and it's really… dangerous… lately. So I am making a vow right now: I, Hermione Granger, with the sun and the sleeping stewardess as witness, vow to be home for Christmas vacation this year. No matter what. The Weasleys can stay with Harry. And I don't take these vows lightly.

Onward to a lighter subject… Hogwarts. Well, that's not exactly light at the moment, but, anyway. The Hogwarts letter is sending a warning that Hogwarts School is under Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. Well, I gasped a bit. I had read of that. When Dumbledore puts anything under the Order of the Phoenix, there's a sort of freedom from the Ministry, although the same can't be said for the Dark Side. It's rather complicated to explain. But, for example, Hagrid can continue to teach at Hogwarts under the Order of the Phoenix, stupid Communication Guidelines or not. (Why did I ever doubt Dumbledore?) And it also means that a large amount of Slytherins probably won't be back this year, I bet - although probably some students from other Houses as well. The ones with parents who refuse to believe what is happening. I can't get too sorry about the Slytherins, however.

I also think that perhaps under the Order of the Phoenix they don't have prefects. Oh, yes, I'm a bit upset over this. I tried hard for this. So is one night in the North Tower held against me forever? So I really think that there are just no prefects this year for some reason… Parvati and Lavender? Oh, I suppose it's possible… just not very probable. I wonder which of the boys it'll be. Not Ron or Neville, I know… no offense to Neville, but - sigh - he's Neville. I'd cross Harry out if it weren't for the fact that, well, he's Harry Potter. And out of Dean or Seamus, well, it's quite a choice.

But then, James Potter was a prefect. That was part of the notes Sirius and Lupin sent. I recall it went something very close to this -

Padfoot: So, my dear young lady, I suppose you're dying of curiosity to know how this rather insane young man became Head Boy?

Moony: You should have seen how long it took for him to tell us he had been made prefect.

Padfoot: I swear I had never seen Prongs stutter before. "Er, well, I, er, well, er, I…"

Moony: "Y'see, well, this - s-s-summer, er, I, er…"

Padfoot: This was about the point Lily and Linda interjected: "Get out with it!" It was also the point Linda glanced at Moony, who was smiling silently, and said: "You're in on this joke, aren't you? I swear, you two do anything, I'll have to -"

Moony: That's when Padfoot started yelling at us for planning something without him. Which we hadn't. So we got into a nice scuffle while Prongs got even more flustered. "I was made a prefect!" Then there was this perfect golden moment of stunned silence.

Padfoot: Which I, of course, broke.

Moony: Actually, out friend Samantha Orr did, as I recall.

Padfoot: Stop taking the wind out of my sails.

Moony: Anyway -

Padfoot: And do stop changing the subject. Let me.

Moony: Stubborn as ever. Go on; see if you can get it right this time.

Padfoot: Fine, then. So Sammy starts rolling on the floor in laughter and tells him to stop joking. She thought it had actually been Gus. As if.

Moony: That's what you had thought as well.

Padfoot: Ahem.

Moony: Although none of us would have minded. We'll shock you, Hermione, but we really did have a firm belief that any Marauder being made a prefect was the deepest offense, shame, and humiliation we could confer.

Padfoot: What? Some people believe otherwise?

Moony: Yes. Lily did.

Padfoot: Technically, she wasn't a Marauder.

Moony: True. Go ahead and tell what she technically did, since you don't trust me to.
Just for the record, what Lily did was put up a wonderful front of loving it, although secretly she tired of it pretty quickly. Of course, the two of them took many more words to say that. By the way, those letters had smudge marks all over them, enough for me to believe that they really were elbowing each other out of the way.

And Harry is going to get it today! Oh, I really, really, really hope he likes it!

Another thing on the Hogwarts letter - we're no longer using Miranda Goshawk's Defense Against the Dark Arts seven-year set of textbooks. We've used them the last two years and I really liked them. However, this year Elisabeth Powell's were assigned, which makes me wonder what on earth this teacher is thinking. Powell's are just… not as good. They're inaccurate as well.

One of the things we're getting into this year is Kapykoae. I just read my entry of the first day I learned of that… well, it was scary. But it's really fascinating, and the really amazing part is that the technique isn't really clearly known. That's one of those things I want to find out. It's a horrible curse, but… ingenious, you have to admit. Another of the things we learn in the fifth year is Dark Illnesses. They're really… frightening, but, again, fascinating. One branch in particular are Ginger's Disease, but it's a bit depressing - partially because it is not a pretty death and partly because even Goshawk hasn't given nearly enough information on them. But then, there isn't a lot known. One, like Drothimites, has only affected one known victim - although I heard he lived.

Oh, I just got a brainwave for March's Promise and have just got to work on it. When I write tomorrow I'll probably be lining up appointments for Mum and Dad's latest victims - er, patients - as I talk. Home sweet home, I suppose.



August 1

I must be some sort of prophetess; except yesterday I didn't see I was so busy I can't really write much.


August 2

It was really touching when I met Mum and Dad at the airport. I swear we were all half crying. Then suddenly they started going on - they hadn't really seen me in so long, I had gotten so much taller, I was tanner, I was walking differently, I was filling out -

"Mum! We're in a public airport!"

Of course, Dad chuckled and then, bless him, changed the subject. Although he certainly stared at me all through dinner and before bed Mum hugged me tight for a full minute.

That's okay. How many times during the last school year did I write I would do anything for Mum's hugs at that particular horrible moment?

Ron wrote. I got the letter yesterday evening. Is he awful at being discreet or what?

Dear Hermione -

You're back from Bulgaria, right? Yes! It won't take so long to get your answers now! Hope you had a good time. The twins and I are dying to hear about those Quidditch practices. Mum is dying to hear you're okay. Dad is dying to ask you what exactly a marcowaver does. In other words, there's not much new here.

Humph.

Can you come to the Burrow soon and put everyone - especially Mum and Ginny - at rest?

In other words, he's saying: "Can you come to the Burrow soon so I can see you?" But of course he can't say that right out, now can he?



Honestly.

Mum's even more worried because he hasn't been writing to anyone's satisfaction. He must be really depressed or the Dursleys are blocking his post. But they don't understand it, right?

Try to make arrangements to come pronto or else we'll meet in Diagon Alley. I'm going to die of shame, walking around with a prefect, but that's the way of things. Congratulations.


You know, I could have fun breaking this news to him. I really want to stun him. How can I do this?
-- Ron

P.S. Did you see the part about the Order of the Phoenix? Excellent! I bet the Malfoys are too political to take that git away, but we might be freed of a few others, namely Crabbe and Goyle. That's uplifting. I wonder what Malfoy would do without his bodyguards?

Hmm. No Crabbe and Goyle. You won't hear me complaining. I suppose I should go to the Burrow, but I want to spend some time here first. And then there's the matter of convincing Mum and Dad.

Okay, three families just came in at once, so…


August 4


Hmm. No letter from Harry, although I know the owl got back. I'm just a little put out. I worked HARD on his birthday present - it would have been really easy to just buy him… oh, say, a book. See, I have some wickedness in me. But, in any case, when you do all that work… sometimes you want to hear: "Say, thanks, Hermione!"

Oh, I got a note from Harry. Not quite a letter.

Dear Hermione -

Thanks a lot for the schoolbag and the birthday wishes. All's fine here. Are you back from Bulgaria? I'm sure you had a good time. - Harry.



Yes, very articulate letter. Did he even bother to go in the bag?
Sheesh.

Well, you're welcome, old buddy.

*

I'm back, and I feel bad now. It's probably not his fault. I should know that. I'm just a bit depressed. Dad destroyed more of his writings from when he was younger, and I don't know why. He won't talk of it and gives the impression of: "You'll understand when you're older." Actually, the words were: "You'll understand one day." I see why he destroyed those?

I think it's time for yet another vow. Dad started losing interest in his writing when he was my age - and he's good enough to have been famous, I swear - and Lupin said he stopped in his fifth year. I just realized this is my fifth year. So: I, Hermione Granger, with the Big Dipper as witness, swear that I will continue to write and to love doing it throughout the next year. If I can do that, I'm sure I can keep on doing it for the rest of my life. If not… I don't want whatever precious little talent I have to be wasted lie Dad's.

Oh, oh, oh! I got a package from Alyn, that Quidditch stadium worker today. He sent me a little magic calendar that presents a meaningful or funny phase for every day. It'll activate tomorrow. I thought that was really quite thoughtful, as he didn't have to do anything.

Oh, and by the way, Crookshanks is much more fond of Britain than Bulgaria. G'night.


August 8


This calendar is really neat - not to mention thought-provoking. August 8 - Hate is born of fear, and fear is born of ignorance. Is that ever… well, this little object seems to read my mind. I had been thinking of You-Know-Who and getting worried.

Well, if that wasn't the truest thing I had ever read.

Really, though, when you think of it… so, so true. Take You-Know-Who - why do we hate him? Because we're very, very scared of him! And why are we scared of him? Well, you hit a bit of a snag there, but the truth… we don't know. We don't understand his powers, or know where he'll strike next, or why, or how to stop him.

So, once again, there's more evidence to support my theory that knowledge is your best weapon. Not that Ron'll listen.


August 10


I feel very bad for blasting Harry the other day.


Dear Hermione -

If you're furious with me, I understand, but once again I have an explanation! Oh, and thank you thank you thank you for my birthday present! I got sort of teary-eyed, I admit, like you predicted… but thank you. It was one of the best I've ever gotten. Believe it or not, it's tied with the Firebolt.


Well, humph. I guess from him that's a compliment.

Wait. Perhaps I should explain first. Well, the Dursleys took the effort to learn owl post and started monitoring my mail, and I had to write according to their standards. Don't tell Ron just yet; I think he and a few Weasleys would be over here fuming and blowing everything up. That's why my letters were a bit… not all that great. Believe me, I did not want to send those, trust me.

So now you want to know how I'm writing you? Dudley's tantrums serve a purpose now. The Dursleys sent me with my neighbor. You might recognize the name. Arabella Figg. Dumbledore mentioned her? Well, something happened when she was at Hogwarts, some sort of curse, and she's really… strange… but I'm not complaining. She was one of my parents' friends at Hogwarts, especially my mum's, so… it was odd, a week before my birthday, when I found out.

Er… Hermione… I'm going to risk telling you this. Don't get angry; don't say anything; you never knew. This is top-secret. That was also the same day I got an impromptu birthday party from Padfoot and Moony.

You don't know about that unless you're talking to me or Ron, got it? And yes, they did break a few thousand laws, both magic and Muggle, which is precisely why I'm rather hesitant to tell you this. If it makes any difference in your opinion, I had a very good time… after Snuffles convinced me to let them get on with it.

And the birthday present… not only is it the best thing, you were your general clever self in putting it in that schoolbag, as I could sense it but didn't take it out in front of the Dursleys. I suppose having the brain of the school as a friend isn't all bad. I bet you and Bella would get along well. According from what you sent and Padfoot and Moony said, she was quite the bookworm herself and after I told her about you she is very interested in meeting you and "giving the poor girl some tips on dealing with you and Ron". I take that to mean we're very annoying and she had to put up with it herself.

Blast it, I've got to send this now. Did you have a good time in Bulgaria? Are you half done with your homework? I'll either meet you at the Burrow or Diagon Alley.



It seems that after a month of being unable to write Harry's letter-writing skills have improved dramatically, and I'm not complaining.

Actually, after that July of Awful Letters, I might tell the Weasleys just to get my enjoyment out of their tempter. As for the impromptu birthday party, for heavens' sakes, how bad does he think I am? I've kept a lot of secrets! I've broken quite a few rules! Enough so that I wasn't made a prefect! As for "Bella"… I suppose in the next few days I should write what I found while going through those files in Bulgaria. As for right now I'm being called to help with something.


August 16


So it's been a while; sorry. I had to do a good bit of homework, because I will get nothing done the fortnight before school, and I also wanted to work on more of Fiddle Girl.

So, what'd I learn?

Mundungus Fletcher:

(And this is just the stuff that stuck in my mind; mind you.)

Gryffindor; graduated 1978, trained in Fire Wards under Griff Mullet, married Michelle Detain in 1984, had one child, named Maria, in 1988, and is currently living outside of Kent.

So, actually, not much. Yawn. But wait until you hear Arabella Hagley Figg -

Gryffindor; graduated 1978, secretary for Cornelius Fudge '79 - '80, married Fredrick Figg '82, widowed '86, vouched for custody of Harold Potter '80, Special Note: In '74, was hit with Bendall's Curse. Stayed in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for three weeks.

Bendall's Curse! Imagine! It's a really, really bad curse, and most people died from it. What happens is that the victim's mind is dimmed so they become rather slow and dull-witted as long as the Dark Side is not in power. While they are in power, they can practically act as an alarm clock, because right when any Dark Activity is going on they become very clever once again and they will have a horrible headache. It's a dreadful curse, meant to break the spirit of the victim and the victim's close friends, but I hadn't known it in the last century or so had victimized anyone.


August 16, later


Wait… if this Bella person can carry on a conversation with Harry, she's improving, right? And if she's improving, that means You-Know-Who's power is, too. Oh, no.


August 18


I hate being right. There's been another Muggle killing in London today - eight Muggles dead, two children. Awful, simply awful, and again the Ministry is blaming Sirius. Ha, ha, ha - very funny, I don't think. But I think I'm also not telling Mum and Dad. Sometimes, you know, you must protect your parents.

Oh, I went to the Speaking Society meeting today, as an "honorary member", since I once belonged to it. I helped a girl named Chrissie, who was doing my old piece - and it was vaguely embarrassing, listening to her using all the little things I added to it a few years ago. Vaguely flattering, but vaguely embarrassing as well - but no doubt, Hogwarts is worth it. In fact, I might be going to the Weasleys. I do want to see Ginny… and maybe even the twins.


August 21


I asked Mum and Dad about the Weasleys. Of course, they sort of didn't take to the idea, but didn't say it out loud and stopped just short of using the two worst words a parent can say: "We'll see." Aren't those words annoying? Instead, they used the ones that are nearly as bad: "We'll think about it."

Sheesh.

I asked Dad today why he stopped writing. It just sort of… came out.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Why'd you ever stop writing?"

Dad paused.

"Dad? Oh - I'm sorry if I'm being rude; it's just that I think you were really, really good."

Dad paused again before answering. "This Professor Lupin," he said suddenly, just when I thought he was going to ignore me, "you said he once did what I refer to as 'scirbbles'?"

"That's what he said."

"When'd he stop?"

"Fifth year."

"Why so?"

"He said he was upset because his mother died…" And then it hit me, and I felt so, so bad for asking. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

He paused again. "Yes," he said at last, "something like that. My older sister died. She was the one who encouraged me. She died in a car accident. Afterwards, I really lost the desire." Then he paused again and said: "Hermione, in a few days I want to have a talk."

Uh-oh. My first thought was: "What did I do wrong? Am I in trouble?" But Dad didn't look angry; he just looked sad.

I'm not sure I want to have this talk. Again, me and my big mouth.

Mum said not to worry: "He's just sad, honey. He needs some time to think it over. He loves the fact you write as well, it just hurts him. I don't know if it's Cecelia, or asking what might have been, but he loves you very, very much."

I think I'm going to the park for a while for some fresh air. Mulling things over is easier when you're outside, I believe.