DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters of the honourable J.K Rowling

A/N: Thankyou very, very much to all who reviewed. You made my day. And I've changed the dates, but I've confused myself in the process, so if they don't make sense, just ignore them…

The Truth

A SERIES OF IRRITATING EVENTS

Saturday 18th of October

Dear Diary,

Another hectic week has been and gone, and I, in my copious spare time, find a minute to write to you.

The Chocolate Drive has turned out to be a complete disaster. Remind me to not to use my initiative ever again. Firstly, on Tuesday I received an owl from Honeydukes informing me that I would be able to have half the required amount of chocolate by the end of term, but the rest would have to wait until next term. Feeling slightly annoyed, I wrote a hasty reply asking wether there was the slightest chance of a change in situation. Then Potter approached me after breakfast on Wednesday (first time in weeks) and began to harass me about how he had had to hear the news about the Chocolate Drive from Sirius, who had overheard me talking to Dumbledore. I felt this was a bit much, and pushing aside all my previous embarrassments I told him coolly that I 'hadn't thought he'd have time to deal with this too, what with Quidditch and his cold, and his new girlfriend.' Admittedly that last bit was rather harsh, but he seemed to take enormous offence to it,

"Well I'd prefer it if in the future you told me when you were going to organise school events," he said in a positively angry tone, "After all, we are supposed to work as a team." I cordially agreed to this, not feeling up to fight, and rushed of to Defence Against the Dark Arts. The only good thing was that I now had a reason not to be talking to him.

So now it is Saturday, and Honeydukes have not replied, and Potter is refusing to involve himself in the Chocolate Drive, even when I suggested that he might have more influence over Honeydukes than I have (I was red in the face and quite irritable but I did have to suggest it to him). Celine is in a funny mood, and is either moping around the dormitory of complaining about the teachers. In fact, I think she's affecting Tory and I. Without Celine bouncing around and making pointless comments about everything, it is hard for one not to go downhill from then on in. Hopefully it's to do with the bitingly cold weather we've been having, the kind that really sinks into your bones and stiffens your joints. It was particularly bad in Transfiguration yesterday, because Professor McGonagall believes in fresh air and insists on keeping the windows wide open (even with half the class coughing and spluttering). Celine was downright surly when she was asked why she hadn't begun her Transfiguration of her desk into a golden retriever.

"My wand's screwed," she said in a low voice.

"What did you say?" barked Professor McGonagall,

"Nothing," said Celine insolently. I would see the word 'detention' forming on McGonagall's lips, but fortunately at that moment the bell rang and everyone stormed out of  the room to collect any extra jumpers and cloaks they hadn't thought they'd need.

Another thing to fluster me happened to day. Or rather, tonight. In the Gryffindor common room, I accidentally sat next to Remus Lupin (because I was thinking how odd it was that Celine had gone to bed early). I tried to ignore him, since I logically felt that if I wasn't talking to Potter, then I wasn't talking to Lupin. I mean, I've always thought that Lupin is a good enough sort in himself, but a bit of a wimp. You know, not much backbone. And he's friends with Black and Potter. I haven't quite forgiven him for all those times in fifth year when Black and Potter were venting their boredom on anyone who got up their noses and Lupin (a prefect) simply looked the other way. The vibe I get from him is that he's actually quite ashamed of this, so maybe that's why he never says much to me. Anyway, today I just concentrated on my potions homework, trying to appear confident and uninterested in whatever he wanted to say.

"Hi Evans," he said after a while, and courtesy demanded that I turn to look at him. He's a small boy, shorter than me, and has a rather thin, ill-looking face and sandy hair. I could hardly shun him when he was looking so pathetic.

"Hi," I said warily,

"You've been busy lately," he observed casually.

"Yes." I said, not being able to think of anything else to say.

"I've noticed you've been avoiding James-"

"Oh, you have, have you?" I said, losing all sympathy towards his sickly demeanour, "I don't know why you'd find that odd, I've been avoiding him for the past however many years -"

"No, I mean I thought you might be warming to him earlier this year-"

"Really? How silly of you-"

"I'm sorry -"

"Why? Why are you sorry?"

"Well…he really likes you, you know-"

"He has a girlfriend, Lupin," I said, glaring fiercely at him. He seemed to take the hint and gathered his books and left. What was his game? I didn't get it then, and I still don't get it. He's Potter's friend, but he was hardly acting in his best interests, was he? What business did he have telling me that Potter likes me when he knows full well that Potter's going out with Shirley Rookwood? Maybe Lupin does have a few screws loose, like Lina Matherson is always saying. Or maybe he's performing the first phase of one of the Marauder's twisted little jokes…

Wednesday 22nd of October

Today Professor George resigned. He said it was for the best, and that although it pained him greatly to leave us, he was being called to find his true self. I wonder who our new Athrimancy teacher will be?

Friday 24th of October

I had a run-in with James Potter day. I really do think it topped the ever accumulating pile of run-ins with James Potter. It certainly startled Celine out of her lethargy. She is still stealing me starry-eyed glances and chuckling quietly to herself. I am glad that at least one of us is happy. I am wallowing in shame and self pity, and it is doubtful as to wether I will ever leave this dormitory ever again.

I had been fuming all day about Potter, and I suppose our little clash in the evening popped the top so to speak. I had found out at breakfast that Potter (in a fit of revenge) had gone to Dumbledore over my head and was organising for the Sparkle Sisters (a troupe I've never even heard of who do some kind of acrobatic show – like a small circus I suppose) to come and perform at an end of term Christmas celebration. (The students get in at twenty sickles a head). 

"Since you're chocolate idea isn't really working," said Potter casually, "I just suggested this to Dumbledore instead, and he said it was fine. Don't you worry," he said condescendingly, "I've cancelled the deal with Honeydukes. I figured you wouldn't mind." Naturally I was speechless with rage, but I'm telling you, if looks could kill he'd have been a dead man.

It happened at about seven o'clock when we were all sitting around in the common room, doing our homework, trying to get our fatigued muscles to sit upright or hold a quill, or staring into space. I wasn't doing much because I kept getting distracted by the shenanigans of Miss Rookwood (who's only a sixth year by the way), and Potter (the cradle snatcher). Celine could see me getting more and more irritated, but of course she just ignored it and smiled the first smile I'd seen in days.

"Wow, Celine. You haven't been zombified," said Sirius Black.

Then Shirley Rookwood said,

"Oh, James, you're so fit, just look at these muscles!" (Or something to that effect) and I thought, 'What muscles? He's a scrawny little ****' and then Potter said,

"Oh, you know, all that Quidditch I do-" (Quidditch? How can you get muscles from riding around on a broomstick all day?)

"I just love you're hair, Jamsie," she giggled, (Jamesie?), and that was when I snapped,

"Oh, will you two just give it a rest!" and they both stared at me, Rookwood's lovely eyes wide and angry.

"Yeah?" said Potter lazily, "Why should we?"

"Because some people are trying to work!" Yes, that's right, Potter is probably the only person who can stop me from thinking before I speak. I was basically setting myself up.

"Oh, are they? You're probably the only one, Evans – look around," he said in a slightly more heated tone. I chose not to look around and see that he was right. At the corner of my eye I saw Black and Celine looking on with interest.

"Well, you should be, I mean with all the time you spend planning your petty revenge," I said, angling away from my previous attack. Potter disentangled himself from a scandalised Rookwood and rose to his feet.

"Well, you're the one who started it, not telling me about the chocolate drive. Too embarrassed to face me after your little outburst of pity, were you?" he practically yelled. That stung, I have to say. But I still knew he was only bluffing, because how could he know that's what I was thinking? The little voice in my head that usually tells me to back down from arguments like his one told me that it was because he knew I wasn't naturally spiteful or mean, but for once I ignored it and snapped back,

"I already told you that I thought you were to busy with Miss Rookwood here to care about things like the chocolate drive. I mean you wouldn't want her to think you were leading her on or anything, would you?" I couldn't believe the things coming out of my mouth. Even though we both knew my words were empty, Potter was livid, and an angry flush had risen on his face; he looked fit to kill,

"That's out of order, Evans, that's bloody-"

"Is it? Didn't you tell poor Shirley about how long you were with all your other girlfriends? Or about that time with Millie Treacle?" I really got him with that one. I'm one of the few people in the school who know the truth about the end of the Millie Treacle affair. Potter doesn't like to talk about it much. (Let's just say Miss Treacle not end up a happy camper and leave it at that, shall we?)

"You wouldn't," said Potter softly, deadly calm, "That's in the past!" I suddenly became horribly aware of the scene I was making. Would I ever again be the respected member of the student body I had been? I looked at Rookwood's confused face, at Black's astonished one and almost gave a sob. I stood stock still and turned back to Potter, unable to say anything else. He glared back at me, leaning forward until our noses almost touched,

"I know what this is all about," he said so that only I could hear, "You're just-" but he never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment someone gave an almighty shriek and the room broke into pandemonium.

I later found out from Celine, (in the dormitory, which I had run to as soon as Potter was distracted) that Margaret Killery of second year had accidentally stood on the pressure point that released the net of invisible dung bombs that had been suspended from the roof by Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black.

"You'll have to find a less easy-to-find area for the trigger next time," Potter was reputed to have ruefully told his friends.

Thursday 23rd of October

Today I slunk shamefully out of the dormitory and down to the Great Hall very early, and grabbed some toast before anyone else had come down. I ate it under the shade of one of those wonderful willow trees that sweep the ground and are completely impenetrable to the human eye. Of course, I knew that I'd have to show myself, probably sooner rather than later, but I was determined not to face the world for as long as possible. Thankfully I had a study period first off and didn't have to talk to anyone. Tor found me in the library at lunch time and tried to convince me that I had to eat something. I told that even I wouldn't risk being symbolically torn to shreds by every Gryffindor who was present last night for a ham and cheese sandwich. Then she told me not to be a stupid idiot (strong language for Tor) and that if I didn't come down right now she'd tell the whole school that Lily Evans had been forced into hiding by James Potter. I told her that the whole school probably already knew that, and she told me that I was being dramatic and that of course no one even cared. I had mixed feelings over this last bit, but I agreed to go down to lunch.

"Hey Evans. Come to give old Potter a taste of you're tongue again?" said Sirius Black after I'd been in the Great Hall for a grand total of about four seconds. Pettigrew laughed, and Lina, Louisa and Theresa twittered.

"I had a very emotional day yesterday, and I assure you there will be no more outbursts from me," I said, trying to sound dignified. Thankfully, Potter himself didn't say anything, but sat as far away from me as possible.

To my relief, Tor had been partly right: no one but my dear friends in Seventh Year Gryffindor seemed to know or care about my conflict with Potter. I suppose I have Black and Pettigrew to thank for that, for stealing my limelight and preventing Potter from saying anything to further incense me. Potter didn't speak to me all day, and was unusually surly to everyone.

"I'd say you've really got up his arse," said Celine appreciatively, when Potter told Professor Flitwick and Eggy Crilmer that they could both take their stupid Charms Club and shove it. This was not the kind of comment that was going to make me feel any better, so after tea I went and sat with Tory in the library to hear her reassure me that Potter was in the wrong and that I had simply overreacted slightly. The reason I'm writing now is because I can't stand to lie in bed and listen to Lina and Louisa talk about Elizabeth-Charlotte Teanly and Matthew Hindle's first tiff and the fact that Ivy Sheely of Slytherin has died her hair purple and got her nose pierced. I just don't care about what Professor McGonagall is going to say when she sees it.

Oh, and one more thing. I found out why Celine's been so weird lately. I can't believe she didn't tell me when the actual crisis was taking place. But that's Celine for you – she'll be all depressed, not tell you what's wrong, resolve the issue and then have a good laugh about it later. Obviously after my awe inspiring outburst to Potter she considered me worthy enough to share her thoughts with. This time, it was to do with Toby Hollylake. Toby has been Celine's 'boyfriend' (most of the time) for the past three years and I can safely say that he absolutely adores everything about her, from the top of her ruddy head to the tips of her purple nail polished toes. Toby is a very tall gangly lad with brown hair and nice eyes, and a sweetness that sometimes comes across as downright stupidity. Although I know that secretly Celine returns his affections whole heartedly, she doesn't like to show it and is prone to making comments like, 'Oh, yes, boys. They act all nice to lull you into a false sense of security, then they use you, then they dump you like a ton of bricks.' As Celine herself has never had such an experience in her life, Tory and I don't take much notice of her. Poor Toby, however, has endured a frightful amount of teasing, shunning and heartbreak – though this does not seem to dim his great love. (I'm making something clear now: the story of Celine and Toby has absolutely no parallels to anything related to Potter, as certain nameless persons have implied). I've often told Celine that he deserves more, but she brushes me off flippantly.

Anyway, according to Celine, a week ago Toby announced that he'd had enough (after a particularly hard ribbing about him being a Hufflepuff.) and became angry with Celine for the first time either of them could remember. Celine apparently stood staring after him for a full five minutes, and began to realise just how much she loved him, hence the sour mood all this week when all was lost and she couldn't for the life of her think what she was going to tell her mother (who is convinced that Toby is 'the one'). But all is now as it should be, for while I was hiding in the library, Celine approached young Toby and in her words, 'brought him round', and in Tor's words 'apologised profusely and begged for forgiveness'. He off course forgave her readily, but showed considerable strength of mind by reminding Celine that he needed to be more appreciated in the future. So they kissed and made up, and remarks like 'Well count yourself lucky, I'm dating a Hufflepuff,' will probably not be heard in our dormitory for quite a long time.

Friday 31st of October

Still no contact with Potter. The talk died down pretty quickly once people realised there were going to be no more follow up fights. Potter has presumably been organising the Sparkle Sisters behind my back, but quite frankly I couldn't give a stuff. This week's been pretty dull, because Celine's been spending a lot of time with Mr Hollylake (which I don't begrudge them) to make up for her past errors, and Tory's had to go home because her little sister Doris is sick, her father's working, and her mother can't cope with a sick child as well as four mischievous healthy ones. I've been sitting with Eliane unspellable in my classes without Celine, and it's a tad tedious since a lot of the conversation revolves around how horrible Lina Matherson is. (Her nasty bobbed hair has nits, she has the personality of a cane toad, she bashes her little brothers etc.) Even worse is that when I simply can't stand to sit with the girl a minute longer, Eggy Crilmer, Sirius Black or Louisa Sarb are always on hand to regale me with whatever's on their minds (Charms club, Black's famous giant motorbike with alloy hubcaps, quidditch, how horrible Eliane is). Another bugger is that we've been given our new Athrimancy teacher. A typical old dragon right from the story books. She has curly grey hair, glasses, a voice like a squeaky gate and will not tolerate the slightest sound in any class. She even has the skill to intimidate Sirius Black, no mean feat, and her name is Professor Fangmorton.

The only highlight of the week is that I got my Charms topic test back and I got full marks. Beat Potter and Black by at least five percent, so I'm feeling fine – for the few seconds in each day when there are no other thoughts in my head except how good I am at charms.

Wednesday 5th November

Right. Only, what, almost two months to Christmas? I really am counting the days, even though it means I have to go home and listen to the despised sister's lamentations about the flowers that will be at her wedding (she wanted sunflowers, heaven knows why, but had to settle for white roses). But it'll be ok, because apart from the bride's maid's dress that mum's insisting I wear (the D.S didn't want me as a bride's maid, but she knew she wouldn't get away with it), I'll be able to invite Celine and Toby over so we can listen to The Beatles at full blast and annoy the hell out of the despised boyfriend (Vernon Dursley's his name, drills are his game).

 Today I have to work out how to transfigure my regulation filing cabinet into a beaver, and write down the method to perform tomorrow. Wish me luck!