A/N: Yep, it's part three. I'm on a roll.

Thanks to the reviewers – there haven't been a lot of you, but you're highly appreciated nonetheless!

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9 July

Ugh. I'm all groggy, and barely awake, but I simply had to write this down. It's six in the morning and I just woke up from one of the strangest dreams I've had in months.

I was in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and Hermione was there too. We were eating cake, but it tasted like paper and I said I didn't want my piece. Hermione looked really offended and said, "Honestly Ginny, we made it for you." And then Ron came in, wearing a ridiculous, chequered jacket with matching pants. "What do you think?" he asked, grinning widely, and I started laughing, because he looked so utterly stupid. Ron just gaped. "You're so mean, Ginny," he said, in a voice that wasn't his at all. In fact, it sounded a lot like Mum's voice. Then all of a sudden we were all in our garden, and Ron was picking flowers, gushing over how beautiful they were. Hermione raised her eyebrows and said, "Looks like it's going to rain." And at that precise moment it did start to rain, only it rained Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans instead of water. Naturally, Ron was ecstatic. He picked up a bucket and ran around trying to catch as much of the downpour as possible. Suddenly he crashed into none other than Snape, and he looked horror-struck for a moment, but then Snape patted him on the head and said, "Oh, Weasley, you've always been such a healthy, fun-loving boy." And he laughed. Snape laughed – heartily, nonetheless. And as if that weren't enough, he then conjured a table full of delicious food, and invited us to sit down with him. "Cake!" Hermione exclaimed gleefully and rushed over to help herself. I sat down as well, and started eating. But then somebody took my hand and squeezed it gently, and I turned my head to find that Harry had sat down next to me. I have no idea where he came from, but he smiled and said, "Looks good, doesn't it?" before helping himself to some ice cream. Although he didn't let go of my hand, he just held it, and it felt warm and soft and…

And yeah, that was about it.

I feel… strange. I haven't dreamt something this odd in ages. I haven't dreamt about Harry in ages. And now my stomach's all warm because I can still remember what it felt like, holding his hand.

I don't know, I guess I'm just worried about him or something.

I should really get some more sleep. Mum'll be in here in a few hours to wake me up, so that we can begin cleaning the house. Great. I've got a wonderful day ahead of me.

* * *

Oh, honestly. What's the point in cleaning when you know it's going to get messy again? Mum says that once I get older and live on my own, I'll understand 'the necessity of keeping ones surroundings nice and tidy', but I'm not so sure. I don't really mind the mess. Especially not if keeping your surroundings nice and tidy means spending no less than four hours cleaning every little nook and corner of the house. Honestly, who cares if we sweep the attic or not? No one's ever there except for the ghoul, and I hardly think he appreciates the fact that we keep it dust-free.

I don't see why we can't just use magic to clean out the house. I mean, we've done that loads of times before. But Mum reckons it's important to exercise our non-magical skills every now and then, and not become too dependent on magic. Oh, please. I think it should be the other way around – we ought to practice our magic skills as much as possible, so that they don't get rusty. I pity all Muggles – they always have to clean without magic. What a nightmare.

As you might've noticed, I'm in a bit of a bad mood right now. The whole day has been spent cleaning, and to me it just feels like a total waste. I mean, these are the summer holidays. As in time supposed to be spent doing absolutely nothing of use.

It hasn't been all bad, though. Fred and George have had a good day and been fun as opposed to annoying, which has been a great relief. Bill and Charlie have kept us entertained with sweeping songs, which they've composed as we've gone along, and Einar's suggested that we ought to celebrate with a Dungbomb fight in the garden once we're finished. Seems like a great idea to me.

Anyway, we're pretty much finished now, and Mum and Dad have started making dinner, so I better go down there and help.

* * *

Blech. I smell so bad.

I've just got back from the aforementioned, celebratory Dungbomb fight, and I am in serious need of a bath – I can hardly stand being in the same room as myself.

The good thing is that I'm not the only one who smells like they've rolled in a pile of manure. In fact, I think I escaped rather unscathed, considering how heavily attacked some of the others were. There were two teams: one was Ron, Charlie, Einar, and me, while Bill, Fred and George were on the other one. Kingsley didn't want to participate (he's not so much like Einar as I thought – he's a lot more mellow), and neither did Lupin, or Moody (not that I thought he would've wanted to). And obviously, Mum, Dad and Percy turned down the offer as well.

Hang on a minute.

There.

Sorry, I just had to stop and laugh for a while at the mental image of my mother participating in a Dungbomb fight.

Anyway, when the fight was over, my team stood as winners. Granted, there was one member more on our team, but we'd agreed on that before we started, seeing as Fred and George can almost be counted as two team-members each, considering their previous experience with Dungbomb fights. So we won fair and square.

Even if I had a terrific time, and even though all the boys are really nice to me, I can't help but miss the presence of another girl, someone my age. Sometimes it just feels like there are too many guys in this house (I mean, Mum and I are outnumbered nearly two to twelve). I do hope Hermione comes to stay with us soon. It's really frustrating, 'cause I'm not even allowed to write to her. Mum and Dad told me as much just before dinner. Apparently it had come to their knowledge that somebody has been writing far too many letters to Hermione, and they don't want to risk anything, seeing as she's, well… Muggle-born, and all. So they figured this was all for the best. I couldn't help but give Ron, who hadn't heard this yet, a hard punch on the shoulder as I passed him. The surprised and highly offended look on his face would've been funny if I wasn't so angry with him. I mean, honestly, why did he have to write so many letters to Hermione? He must've been absolutely furious when he found out he can't write to her anymore. Well, serves him right.

Oh, before I forget, Dad mentioned at dinner that we'll probably be meeting up with the rest of the Order quite soon, which is interesting, because I've been wondering where everyone else is, and why it's just Lupin, Kingsley and Moody that're here. I wonder if this means we'll be going back to Grimmauld Place soon. I hope not, I really hate that place. And going there now that Sirius… oh, that would be just awful.

I hate being kept in the dark like this. Now that Fred and George are allowed to attend the meetings, I don't even have access to any Extendable Ears. They claim they've stopped manufacturing them. I reckon they're just being petty.

Damn. I just remembered I have to write back to Dean. Tomorrow, preferably. Or else he'll think I just can't be bothered.

Wow, I really have to go take a bath. The stench is getting unbearable.

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A/N: I know the chapters are sort of short so far, but they'll be getting longer, I promise you. Please review and let me know what you think!