September 20th - Am much relieved that today is Saturday, and am able to stay in bed Late to recover from exertions of previous evening. Am less than pleased, however, when, upon eventually entering Great Hall for belated breakfast, I find myself seated next to Sybil, who remarks that I look Terrible, and that Flu is No Joke at Our Age.
Am extremely insulted by this, not least because Sybil is at least ten years my senior, but am prevented from making sharp retort by Hermione's cheerful declaration that she is Going Shopping. Is there, she enquires, anything she can get me while she is Out?
Can think of many replies I could make to this - most of them relating to Sybil, and sarcastic in the extreme, Ear Plugs being one example - but restrain myself and merely place order for Red Ink and Black Socks.
Remainder of day spent in Marking - remarkable how much of this there should be, after really quite brief absence on my part - and writing Speech for rapidly-approaching French Conference, until Hermione returns, heavily laden with bags and packages of all descriptions.
Am most satisfied with purchases she has made for me - both in terms of Quality (Socks) and Quantity (Ink) -but become suspicious when she attempts to hide large parcel, bearing unmistakeable insignia of Honeyduke's, which is Croaking.
What, I demand to know, is the Meaning of This?
At which she becomes evasive and murmurs about Chocolate Frogs and Special Offers. Am not convinced by this, dear Hermione being no more fond of Chocolate Frogs than I am, but put it down to Hormones - perhaps she is stocking up for next Full Moon? - and say no more on the subject.
Retire to bed extremely early, in the (probably vain) hope that Sleep will restore me somewhat, and prevent further insulting remarks from colleagues. Cannot help but feel, however, that Sybil will continue to say anything she likes, without any reference whatsoever to the Truth.