A/N: It has been a while since I have updated. Had writers block. I promise you, the next chapter will be full of action. Because next chapter will be ball. Ooh, starting to talk like diary. Oh: If you review, I shall give you a cookie.

Disclaimer: Haven't I told you already? I don't own anything.

December 17

Session with Hermione was stupid and pointless and tedious. She had fake glasses on. Quill in her mouth. Pad in hand.

"Now, since I don't want you to feel inferior to my very psychiatric pencil, glasses and notepad, I'll give you glasses, a quill and a notepad too." She stated pompously in her customary and very annoying ' all-knowing' way.

And she handed me a purple quill, a pink notepad and a pair of flimsy glasses.

"I'm not feeling inferior, Hermione." I said calmly, throwing the glasses to the side. She clucked her tongue and began jotting down squiggly notes on her notepad.

"Of course you are feeling inferior—and I'm here to help you get rid of that feeling." She sympathized.

"That would be great—except I'm not feeling inferior."

"Of course." But it didn't really look like she understood. I had the sudden urge to knock on her skull.

"No, really, Hermione, I'm fine. There is nothing wrong with me!" I threw my hands up and grinned really annoyingly, just the way most cheery and normal Gryffindors did. She just blinked at me for a couple of moments and said, ' Interesting.' Then she jotted down more notes. I craned my neck to see what she was writing, but she quickly stuffed the notepad under her bum. Quite weird.

"Calm down, Ginny." She said.

"But I am calm." I replied blankly.

"I told you, I'm here to help." She repeated.

"I'M CALM!!!!" I bellowed (yes, bellowed), causing her hair to blow away from her face. She had this odd, strained look on her face-- the look adults get when they're really trying to be patient with their dog when it's crapped on their new carpet.

"Good." Was all she said. Taking a deep breath, I sat on the reclining chair that was set up in her room (she was head girl, surprise, surprise!), and while I did, I dangled my legs—it's quite fun to do, you know. Hermione blinked dumbly.

"Why're you dangling your legs like that?"

"It's fun."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Uh huh. Weird hobby you got there. Very interesting." She chewed on the end of her quill. I don't think she understands. You see, her problem is the fact that she believes there is a serious and important reason for all our actions, no matter how trivial they may seem, and she goes on and analyzes things. Like for example, Harry has this odd way of blinking one eye as if he's awfully tired—and well, I remember Hermione and Harry having a huge row about it, Hermione always shouting something like, ' Just TELL me what's wrong with your eye!" And Harry would just blink and have this look on his face as if he were sucking on sour lemons. It's uncomfortable and unsettling, but more than anything, it's annoying.

"So, moving on. Why are you so stressed, Ginny?" she asked. And my face dulled to the Oh-no-not-this-again look. The age old question. But already, I was really very tired of all her silly little analyzing and her neat little handwriting on her pad, so I didn't care.

" Because I am uglier than a cockroach, and I need to go live in a toilet." I replied monotonously, staring off into space as if I only had half a brain. Hermione's hand was flying across her pad.

"Interesting. Is that all?" She asked cheerfully. I shook my head.

"Nope. I am also very dumb, and I need to dig up a dead body for a brain donation." I managed to keep a straight face through this entire crazy, loony, stupid talk, and I think that I will become an actress and conniver when I grow up. I will play sneaky, under cover, seemingly-but-not-really-dumb characters who are actually quite beautiful. And the best part about this little act was the fact that Hermione bought it all, the poor cat, and she kept nodding her head like those silly little figurines that muggles have, the figurines that have the really big heads. Dad has a few.

"I see…" Hermione muttered, still writing, and her voice was all tragic as if someone had died. I nodded calmly.

" I am so ugly and dumb that I will never have a boyfriend, and I will go marry a toad, who will not turn into a dashingly gorgeous prince even if I snog him, tongue and all." I said despairingly, my hands covering my face as if I were hiding my tears, when I was actually stifling my loud and abnormal giggles.

"Oh, poor dear…you really are feeling inferior, aren't you?" she clucked her tongue at me, though I'm sure she was half-preening at the fact that she had been right. But she wasn't right, and she doesn't know it. Ha.

"Is this about Harry, then?" She asked suddenly. I looked up, face flushed from laughing.

"What?" I asked in a dazed little voice. Hermione cleared her throat. " Sorry. I said: Is this about Harry, then?" I didn't answer, because I was too busy trying not to glare at her, because Hermione, though she wasn't empathic at all, and very insensitive, she really wasn't that dumb, and she was better off then me—so if I glared at her, she would either ask me why I was glaring at her and analyze that, or she would tell Ron, and Ron would glare at me and ask me what was wrong.

"Oh, it is about him, isn't it?" She crooned, scribbling on her pad again. I didn't say anything, because I really didn't care what she thought of me anymore, and if I let her analyze me all she wanted, she would let me go sooner.

"I have your results." She announced. I looked at her, brow raised, and I knew I looked really confused. She finally handed me the pad and let me read it.

Ginny Weasley is feeling inferior for many reasons. She has low self-confidence, and needs to be supervised constantly, because I fear she may be suicidal. She must either confess her feelings for Mr. Potter, or else move on, and I mean, really move on, or her heart will break. She must express her feelings more often to Hermione, and she will feel much better.

I blinked once, twice, thrice, and grinned as I thought about throwing the pad and chewed quill at Hermione Granger. But I controlled myself, because I had much self control. Grinning like a monkey on drugs, I jumped up from the chair and shook Hermione's hand.

"Hark! I am free! Brilliant! Splendid! I am no longer inferior, and I am no longer ugly, dumb or in love with Harry Potter, because I have moved on! No more inferiority!" I danced and wiggled and kept on grinning. Then I ran out of the room and retched in the toilet.

Now the exciting and enticing and kinda-scary-maybe-its-a-stalker news: It was after another boring Self-Discovery class, whence we were assigned homework, which happened to be, ' What I Want To Be When I Am Grown Up', when I was gathering my things. Malfoy had been really annoying, sticking his nose into other people's business, and being smart and un-ugly looking. I'm not jealous of him—that's not possible; because I am of the opposite gender, see?

Anyways, he was sending a nasty look toward me, something like, ' I-hope-someone-puts-you-through-the-quidditch-hoops-and-you-get-stuck-in-them-because-of-your-large-arse', though I'm not sure if he really meant it. Must ask him some time when we are on friendlier terms (when pigs fly, perhaps?) if I really have a large arse. After he sent me that look, he walked past breezily and I started coughing because obviously, Malfoy had changed his cologne to something really putrid, and it smelled like rotten potatoes after pigs had rolled all over them. It was quite horrendous, so, I, being the nice girl that I am, stopped him and asked him what cologne he was wearing.

"What do you mean, Weasley?" He asked, one eye narrowing. I shrugged.

"You smell funny." I replied simply, trying not to lose my temper since I was so much better than him and needn't get angry at such a lowly being.

"Oh, that's disgusting Weasley!" he cried, nose scrunching up like an accordion. " Don't go around sniffing people!" I grew flushed at his somewhat perverse statement and I hated myself at the moment.

"Ha. You look like a Weasel who attempted to turn itself into a tomato, and only half succeeded." He guffawed, pointing to my head. So immature. Then, his eyes did this funny flashy thingy and he walked off. But even though he did make me feel lower than dirt, as he was walking away, I saw him sniffing his robes and I could see his eyes starting to water, and his mouth was doing this lurching thing that you do when bile is rising out of your throat. Haha. I am Ginny Weasley, and my nose is never wrong.

Here's the thing: After Malfoy left, I dropped my quill for some reason, and I noticed a piece of parchment left on the floor. I picked it up and realized that it had writing on it.

It said, ' Are you writing in your diary???'

Isn't that terribly frightening? I searched the pages of my diary already, and there isn't a single place where a page had been ripped away, so it couldn't be some evil-but-kinda-good-looking-wannabe-dark-lord trying to play with me…

So, I'm guessing someone sent this diary to me for some odd reason. Maybe they did it because they liked me. Maybe it was because they wanted to scare me. Or maybe, they just did it because it turned them on, and they liked me. You know, there are a lot of weird people in this world, and a lot of them have eccentric fetishes. And this person just happened to get horny over a girl who wrote in diaries. Ugh.

Or maybe, the person who sent it to me is evil and is stalking me, and I'm just too dumb and ugly to know it.

Sigh. Hermione's asking me if I was the one who had thrown up in the girls' bathroom. I have to go scrub the toilet now.

Hehe. I am evil. Stole Lavender's rouge lipstick that makes her look like a prostitute and wrote on toilet seat and on the wall above it.

'When your sitting on the john, and the toilet paper's gone, be a man—use your hand. —your friendly tree conserver.'

Things To Do:

1) Become smart

2) Do everything I have ever wanted to do before I kick the bucket.

3) Find ways to make self prettier

4) Really, really become outgoing. Seriously. Not kidding.

5) If all else fails, or if the Lazy Bug kicks in, find new paper bag to put over head, since I lost the other one.

6) Find out who sent me diary.

December 19

Have remembered my plan to become smart, after momentary brain lapse from Hermione's tiring session. Remembered the flimsy glasses she gave me, and I remembered throwing it away to the side. Went back into Hermione's room and searched around for them, but alas, they were gone!

"Ginny! What are you doing, child?" Hermione found me. I smiled awkwardly.

"Tag! You're it!" Then I ran out of the room.

But eventually, I found a pair of Harry's old glasses and punched the glass part out of them. So, I guess I shouldn't call them glasses? I should call them rims.

I want to go to a loony bin right now.

December 20

Life is hell. Ooh, surprise. I love surprises. Except when they just jump right at you, without any notice.

No, really—life is hell, and I am Persephone, Hades' unwilling and miserable wife. And because I am his wife, I am unwanted, and Hades won't let me go frolic with anyone else of the opposite sex.

Hades is Ron, if you haven't guessed. And he thinks he's God Almighty—and his skull is really thick, and he lost his brain in the cabbage patch my mum dropped him in a few years back. Poor, evil, bastard-y guy. I feel sympathy and anger for him at the same time.

I'm shaking. I'm not scared. Just really, really, v. angry. Tres angry. Will kill Ron with tweezer that I use to pluck out my eyebrows. Anything is lethal weapon when you're smart. Wait, I'm not smart.

Who the hell does he think IS???? He's forbidding me to look pretty and dashing in my sexy dress while he goes off to flirt uselessly, being the freckled, re-headed Weasley that he is. Oh, wait…. How am I suppose to become outgoing with Ron's big nose in the way?

Oh, but I, being Ultimately Evil and Cunning, have already devised a plan. The perfect plan. I cannot find tweezers, so murder is not answer. Will not look good with blood all over robes.

I shall scare everyone. EVERYONE!!!!

Wait, on second thought—Ron can't be Hades. I hate incest, for I am a girl who has morals. Although the greek gods and goddesses did marry their siblings often times. Maybe Neville? No, Neville is too un-evil to be an evil ruler doomed to his demise with his equally doomed wife. Ooh, Draco Malfoy qualifies. I can just see it now.

RANDOM SERVANT OF HELL: Customer # 10024923 has arrived, sir.

DRACO: Name?

RANDOM SERVANT OF HELL: Vo—Vo--Bloody hell, I just refuse to say his name, sir!

DRACO: Do not tarry, fool, for I am an evil and busy man, who has many evil deeds to accomplish!

GINNY: :sigh : You know, Hades doesn't have to be evil. Just kind of…gloomy and sullen.

DRACO: Shut up, dear wife.

GINNY: Oh, how nice of you.

RANDOM SERVANT OF HELL: I'm waiting…

DRACO: Ah, just take the poor bloke to the Room Of Pretty Flowers Designed For Dead And Dispirited Evil Overlords Overthrown By Stupid Scar Heads. They'll welcome him there.

RANDOM SERVANT OF HELL: Yes, sir. :wanders off :

DRACO: Hey, Persephone?

GINNY: Ginny will be fine.

DRACO: Do you remember that one time, when I wasn't so evil and powerful, when you kissed me? And I was like, ' You kissed me!'?

GINNY: Always the one to be blatant and painfully obvious.

DRACO: Yea, well—I knew you loved me ever since then, so no need to thank me for snatching you away from your mom. In fact, I received the thank you note just yesterday. Something about ' I am so grateful…Did not have enough money to feed all…Thank you for taking what's-her-name off your back…'

GINNY: Oh? So why do we still have four seasons, smarty?

DRACO: Go ask your mother.

GINNY: I hate you.

DRACO: No, you don't. Think about it.

Evil git.

Ok, now, enough bantering—I shall tell you my evil plan to get back at Ronald Arthur Weasley.

On the night of the ball, I will make like Zorro. I will be cloaked in black, and shall be so well disguised that people will say, ' Oh, person who is anyone but Ginny Weasley, save us from your wrath!' But I won't. No one has ever been really nice and sane to me so I won't spare anyone. I will also be practicing an accent to disguise my voice. Maybe I am not dumb. Who knows?

I'm wondering though, where am I supposed to find a black cloak worthy of my entrance? I can't sew if my life depended on it. If I attempt to, I'll probably end up sewing myself.

Ah, well. Enough brilliant thinking for one day.

Eh, what was that? What did Ron do? If I didn't make myself clear…sigh, he is forbidding me to go to the Christmas Ball because he says I've been acting strange, as if I'd been ' prancing about with some hoodlum'. So he says I shan't go. I would write to mother and straighten this out, but I think it's about time Ron knew just how dangerous and menacing Ginny Weasley could be.

Alas! On with Ginny Weasley's Evil Plan of Evil Deeds To Revenge Evil Students Of Insanity!

December 22

What I Want To Be When I Am Grown Up

I want to be a writer.

That's all I have so far. Ginny Weasley: An aspiring writer.

I don't think these glasses are making me smart. I thought they worked, however…

I was sitting in Self-Discovery, and we were talking about anger management. We watched something called a video, where there's this funny box with a glass covering, and then pictures flash in front of you. There was a lot of geeky looking muggles who smiled at you and told you that it was no good to make fun of people and pick fights. I looked at Malfoy, but he was busy looking evil and…cool.

They said that you should take a walk when you were angry, and wait until you calmed down, then go back and analyze the problem. State your needs. If you ask me, it was all quite stupid, because a nice right hook in the nose would take care of the job and you wouldn't have to go jogging anywhere. Then the teacher asked us a question after the video.

'Why is it important for you to calm down before you face your problems, and not look to violence and bullying for the answer?' He asked. Everyone was silent. Draco, I'm sure, would've answered, but there would be too much snickering and shouts of, ' Hypocrite' and ' Oh, the irony…'

So I raised my hand, pushing my glasses back up my nose like I had seen Harry do countless times.

'Yes, er…' He looked down at his scroll, his eyes all squinty. I felt miffed that he didn't know my name. Poor soul.

'It's Ginny, you dolt.' I said( not the 'you dolt' part).

'And I think it is important for you to calm down before you face your problems, because,' Here I gulped. ' Punching someone in the nose is only going to cause more trouble and make the other resent you even more. You won't earn respect or a sense of understanding or agreement from your opponent either. It isn't fair for you to get what you want, which is why you have to work towards a common goal—to compromise and get a little of what both of you want. This leaves both parties relatively happy and leaves you bruise free.' I thought my answer was quite witty, and the teacher must have thought so too, because he stopped adjusting his toupee and beamed at me.

'Yes, yes, great answer, Miss…' He consulted the scroll again. ' Miss Weasley.' He grinned at me some more, and I just pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose again, blinking and smiling pompously. I glanced backwards towards Malfoy and saw him looking a bit pouty, which served him right. Overall, I thought it was a good class.

Then after class, I purposely shoved past Malfoy, but only to see if he had taken my insinuated advice and changed cologne. He hadn't, and I wheezed loudly and dropped all my books. Bummer.

'Watch it Weasley.' He spat with contempt ( good word, eh?). I just glared back at him as I began to pick up my books.

'You still smell, you know.' I commented rather nicely, I thought.

'Oh, that's rich, Weasley—me, a Malfoy, smell?' He scoffed. I stood up, and pretended to think.

'No, you're right. You reek.' Thank you, thank you very much. But he, apparently, wasn't listening, or he just decided to ignore the brilliant and oh so witty comment, because all he did was squint his eyes until I could barely see them. He leaned closer to my face, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But then he poked a finger through my rims and frowned at me.

'Why have you got fake glasses on?' He asked, obviously confused. I sighed and rolled my eyes as if I knew something he didn't know.

'Because.' I answered. He looked at me like I was mental. Then he walked away. He didn't sniff himself, though.

Hm.

I still haven't found any material for my cloak, but I'm going to Hogsmeade tomorrow anyway, so I may find something there. Or if I can't find anything, Malfoy has a lot of really nice black cloaks…

Things To Do:

1) Everything.

A/N: Review.