June 12, Monday

1:00 P.M In library.

Bloody Exhausted. Between packing and performing Head Girl duties, feel like rolling over dead so little children can run along and poke me with sticks and house elves can figure out what to do with all the junk I seem to have accumulated over the years. Speaking of horrid little creatures (children, not elves), it seems as though Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have finally figured out that as they have no chance of winning House Cup, might as well run around on sugar highs through corridors either stark naked, on brooms, or both. Have deducted a total of 9,592 House Points and it only seems to instigate them further. Will never have children. Never, ever. Ever. Will be so glad when back in London for good. Must get ready for Leaving Feast.

7:15 P.M. Ignoring the fact that Feast started some fifteen minutes ago.

Retract last sentence of previous entry. Do not want to go to Leaving Feast, as this would acknowledge fact that am leaving Hogwarts' for good and will have to face real world. No. Will stay here. Will insist on redoing Seventh Year again as am not ready to be thrown out into the cruel streets of the world like a newborn babe being thrown into jungle coated with honey as to be more appeasing to carnivores. Can't go. Not Ready. Perhaps after feast, can just pop in loo and stay there until Hogwarts' Express is long and gone then just refuse any other attempts at forcing me back to London?

9:30 P.M. On Hogwart's Express.

Who bloody cares about winning the House Cup? Does anyone realize my distress? Have just been viciously ripped from the comforting womb of Hogwarts'. Who knows what will happen now. Will meet parents at King's Cross. Will be ushered into childhood home where will remain until end of days as have nothing else to look forward to. If lucky, maybe people will still remember me in years to come.

"Oi, what ever happened to that girl we used to know, back at Hogwarts'?" Harry or Ron will say. Who actually says it will not matter as they will both be equally successful in life, love, and wealth and I will be some old bag lady asking for spare change outside the coffee house while talking to self.

"What was her name?" They will ask, racking their memories in a desperate attempt to remember, but to no avail except when they recall savage creature that lived upon head. "Oh, Hair Girl. Wonder what became of her?" Both will shrug in unison before continuing successful lives as if I had never existed.

Sigh.

Midnight.

Ermph. Never realized how much I hated this room. Suppose only having to put up with it on holidays with the knowledge of going back to Hogwarts soon made it possible to look over fact that room is painted pale yellow with horrid little flowers like great aunt's Sunday dress only to be lined with midget bookcases topped with horribly frightening pale dolls with various fashion plates and fixed grins. Feel like crying as have suddenly realized that there is nothing in room reminiscent of self, just scattered belongings Mum has placed in room since birth so she can pretend she has normal child.

Miss friends so much. Wonder if could just Apparate over to the Burrow for a bit, just pop in and pop out?

June 13, Tuesday

8:00 a.m

Woke up and went downstairs, just in time to have morning tea with Mum and Dad before seeing them off to work. Morning owl came in through the open patio window, barely brushing Mum's perfectly concocted bun of hair sealed with a can of hair spray. Of course, she went into panic mode: standing up and waving her arms and hands frantically while stomping and making high pitched squeals simultaneously, which believe it or not, is very similar to the fertility dance of the Nigerian tribe as seen on a BBC documentary. Could see Dad muffling laughter by means of making bubbles in his tea, and couldn't help but laugh.

"Hermione, it isn't funny!" Mum had protested, finally taking her seat at the table again. "Those things are absolutely horrid. I suppose I just don't understand. If you're people" she said this with a slight tone of disdain, as if they were all my fault, "are so sophisticated, why can't they use the post like the rest of us."

Didn't bother responding, as Dad had noticed the impending situation and decided it better to rush her out of the house than to let me unleash my hair on her.

Found myself sifting through the mail, tossing aside the Daily Prophet to find another twenty or so letters, one of which was from the Ministry's Ludicrous Patents Office practically begging me to come fill a top level position, ignoring the fact that I am straight out of school and have no work experience. Not to say that the Ludicrous Patents Office wouldn't offer me a life of glamour and excitement, but it's just not my forte. Couldn't bear going through a number of other brochure-type job offers, and simply marched upstairs and put them in my trunk along with the other three hundred or so. So you see, my problem with a job, or lack thereof, isn't that there aren't any offers, its simply that I cant imagine dedicating my life to one position for the next fifty years until I either keel over from absolute boredom or finally get to redeem my pension when on my 75th birthday. As far as I can tell, finding an occupation is much like getting married. You don't simply want to run out and get engaged to the first chap you see in fear of going home and waking up a few mornings later to find that you're stuck in holy matrimony with an overweight, Quidditch obsessed jerk who thinks his used underwear will simply blend in with the carpet like camouflage if left long enough, thus shouldn't be worried with.

3:00 p.m.

Have wondered around the house sheepishly all day, laying about here and there in hopes of somehow being inspired about what to do about job or Professor Lupin situation, as both are of equal importance. Perhaps will just pop over at the Burrow for a bit and see what friends are up to.

3:15 p.m

Must remember to work on Apparation etiquette as cannot simply be appearing in peoples kitchens unannounced. Went to Burrow to find it very empty with the exception of a blushed looking Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were caught in an embrace that would have been embarrassing if it were anyone else, but instead, it just simply explains why they have so many children. They explained that everyone was gone as they were helping Neville move in and proceeded to give me instructions as can't Apparate to a place am not familiar with.

4:00 p.m Neville's flat.

Walked up Chapel St. in downtown London past a nightclub called "Catch" to find Ginny waving at me madly from a few windows up. As she rushed down the stairs to open the door for me, I noticed the tell-tale signs of a wizard's encounter with the device that allows one to buzz you in (scorch marks, etc., etc.). Upon entering flat, was so jealous, could hardly congratulate a humble looking Neville. Is so unfair. Okay, not really unfair as Neville says he has been laboring in gardens since his Third Year in order to pay for it. In fact, am actually very proud of Neville. He has come very far from his days as chubby little boy who pees his trousers every time Professor Snape was mentioned. To be honest, thought Ginny was nutters when she admitted was attracted to him when she dated him for a short period of time as even then she was just prepubescent sexpot, but now realize she may be giving Trelawney a run for her money as far as the Inner Eye goes.

Can simply see it now: Ginny's hair covered by gold turban (comparable to something that would be seen adorning a window in Her Magesty's Bedroom) with equally gaudy gold bracelets, necklaces, and hoop earrings big enough to make dogs jump through as party trick.

"Ah, yes." She will say in eerie voice. "Neville is hot, has great job and flat. You're jobless, in love with your former Professor, and living in your childhood bedroom with no plan for future." Will look at her with raised eyebrow as already know all of this and she will respond simply. "That will be five Galleons, please"