Dear Journal,

It is now Friday. HA HA HA, you stupid pad of connected paper! You don't ever get to party! Whoa, I am extremely hyper and am laughing my head off. Must stick face out of window for air. Will be back.

All right, I'm here once more. Today was super cool with knobs! In Potions, we dissected hippogriff livers, and I pretended mine was from Buckbeak. I squeezed some of the blood out onto Hermione's robes, and guess what: She slapped me! We made contact! I am so proud, that I think I should act that way more often!

Then, lunch was mushroom omelets with fries, and that's where I heard that Ginny Weasley is in big trouble for plagiarism.

Apparently, she stole one of Seamus Finnigan's essays on the Irish magic college in Dublin (one topic he's an expert on), and she FORGOT TO CHANGE THE NAME! I hope her dad gets fired because of that.

Speaking of "dads", there is some trouble going on at home, and I don't want it to get around. Mother sent an owl saying that she and Father are in an awful fight; she thinks he's been cheating on her with at least six male Death Eaters- in- training. Hopefully it's a lie, but I have a distinct feeling that this isn't just another Malfoy Family Exaggeration.

MUST CHANGE SUBJECT!!!

I got into a fist fight with Ron Weasley yesterday. It wasn't my fault that time, though. Weasley was just sore because Hermione slapped ME and not HIM! Ha, what a sucker!

He told me that if I ever bothered her again, he'd have to use my spleen as a Quaffle. So, naturally, I socked him between the eyes.

Hermione, a Prefect, and Neville, a tag along, rushed over to holler at us and kick at us, and remind us of how many school rules we were breaking.

I got off of Weasley immediately, though not because of Hermione. It was because I didn't want Longbottom driving a spike square through my heart. I had a nightmare about that in sixth year, and I am not able to forget it. I mean, you never know what he'll do, with those raving lunatic parents he's got! Creepy...

That dumb old bird, McGonnagal sent us to the Headmaster's office for a "talk". Once we got into Dumbledore's office, he said he should send a letter to my father. Here's something that's changed: I don't care what Father thinks.

I used to try and please him- impress him every chance that I got. I used to feel bad if our opinions differed even the slightest bit. In fewer words: I used to look up to him. But now that my eyes are level with his, I don't have to look up to him anymore.

To Dumbley-Dorey, I said," Are you trying to scare me?"

"No, not at all, Mr. Malfoy," he replied in his dreamy, tired voice. "Why do you say that?"

'What in the blazes?' I thought in annoyance. "I SAY that because you're acting as though it's some sort of cruel punishment to write my father, saying I got into one measly fight. And it wasn't even my fault! That'd be wasting my parents' precious time, and they have enough on their hands." I snorted. "Father will be pissed, I tell you."

That is the truth. Father's been pissed ever since he got let out of Azkaban last year. He managed to pretend Voldie had put him in a trance and made him do "those terrible things". What a pile of dragon shit!

The Headmaster smiled weakly. "Do you think that this matter is all that I would tell Lucius about?"

I sort of glared at him, and then snorted again, shaking my head in aggravation.

He was probably referring to the time Pansy shoved her tongue down my throat just as he rounded the corner and spied us. That wasn't my fault in the least, yet I still served my detention without a single complaint. (Well, perhaps one.)

Then, as Slytherin's quidditch captain, I had all of my members bewitch the Gryffindork brooms so that they only levitated about one foot in the air. The match that day was canceled for broom stripping, and luckily, I was not caught, though the Headmaster had that twinkle in his eye every time he looked at me. That wasn't even the best I've done, though.

That came a few weeks later, in Intermediate Potions, when I placed a Mind- Reading charm on Hermione, as she seemed to be in some sort of trance.

"Wow," she exclaimed loudly. "Professor Snape has a cute arse!"

The entire class burst out guffawing, as Professor Snape, who had been writing on the chalk board with his back- end facing us, whipped around and took twenty points from Gryffindor. His ears were pink.

OH DAMN! Late for dinner, and it's turkey night! I'll finish up later, then?

-Draco L. Malfoy