Author's Notes: Hoorah, this entry takes place on my birthday. Hope you guys enjoy this one...don't worry, the saga that starts in this entry is continued in the next one.
To answer some questions:
Urges - No I didn't realize I missed a number, gah. Thanks for pointing it out!
Steph - Sadly, the parodies were taken down by The-Website-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named (ie. this one). I plan on putting them up on my site, though (see author's page). I sent the parodies to my friend, who takes care of the webpage because I am HTML illiterate, not too long ago. They should be up there soon.
LJ Fan - Yeah, I realize the age thing is screwed up. But when I started the story I was assuming she was 14, so I can't change it now. Unless I go back and change Book 1. Which I'm too lazy to do. I do love the nitpicks though, they're so helpful!
Potter-you-Rotter- Welcome to the FU!
Saturday, 25 November (1 month til Christmas!)
9:15 a.m.
Just got a letter from Mum and Dad:
Dear Hermione,
How are you, love? No particular reason for this letter, but we hadn't heard from you in awhile so we thought we'd write. No doubt you're very busy with school, but try to find some time to write your dear old parents once in awhile, would you?
How's the weather at Hogwarts? It's been absolutely dreadful here; the schools were closed for three days this week because of the enormous amount of snowfall we got. Dad didn't think he was going to get out of the driveway Monday morning. But thankfully Mrs. Crick's new friend (or her "gentleman caller", as she refers to him) was around and helped Daddy shovel the driveway so that we could get to work. Lots of snow is good news for our skiing trip, though! Daddy went out last week and bought you a brand new pair of skiis. He also bought himself a fairly ridiculous multi-coloured hat which he insists on wearing in public. Do come home soon and talk some sense into him, for the sake of our reputations as respectable people.
Hope school isn't too stressful for you, and that your friends are all well. Are you still writing Viktor? I hope Daddy's silly advice from before didn't scare you off or anything. He is such a nice boy, and I do hope you haven't forgotten him. You should buy him something quite nice for Christmas, since he got you that lovely watch for your birthday. It's difficult to find boys who are that thoughtful at your age, darling, so don't let this one go!
I know you get busy around this time of year, but write back when you get a chance. If you're finding you have too much on your plate (what with your Prefect duties and tutoring your friend Neville and your little Defense Against the Something or Another study group and all) just remember that you can't do absolutely everything, love. Don't get too stressed out…soon enough you'll be home for Christmas for a nice, long, relaxing, and hopefully hat-less break.
Have a good weekend, sweetheart!
Love from, Mum and Dad
P.S. From Dad: Due to your mother having a monopoly over the writing of these letters, I am forced to express in post-script that the views presented in this letter with regards to a certain hat, as well with regards to as a certain Bulgarian man, do not necessarily reflect my opinions as well. Be a good girl. Love, Dad.
About halfway through the letter, I was painfully aware of Ron reading over my shoulder. I sighed and glanced over at him, annoyed. From the look on his face, it was obvious that at least one word within the letter had caught his eye, and it was most likely a name starting with "V".
"Got a letter, eh?" Ron said with unconvincing indifference as he returned to buttering his toast.
"Obviously."
"Who from?"
"Just my parents."
"Oh?" said Ron casually. "They have anything interesting to say?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. They've both decided to quit their jobs and join the circus," I said sarcastically.
Across the table, I distinctly heard Harry snort from behind The Daily Prophet.
"I was just asking a question, no need to get all huffy," Ron retorted.
"I am not being huffy."
"Are too."
"Am not."
"Come off it, you two," Harry said in a bored voice. Ron shot me a look as if to say, "Are too" again and get the final word, and then returned to his toast. I got out my journal, and here we are.
I do feel rather badly about not writing Mum and Dad in awhile. I should really try to write them more often; Mum sounds sort of lonely. Plus, I haven't seen either of them since June. I think this skiing holiday is a very good idea for some family time, even if Dad bought an embarrassing hat and I'm not all that fond of skiing.
So Mum still has entirely the wrong impression of my friendship with Viktor, and Dad still thinks Viktor's some sort of criminal or stalker or something. That's nothing new. But I almost choked on my bagel when I read the part about Mrs. Crick's "gentleman caller"…
9:30 a.m.
"What are you always writing in that stupid book?" Ron abruptly said a few moments ago, interrupting my musings on Mrs. Crick's "gentleman caller".
"Homework," I said vaguely.
"What homework?" Ron demanded.
"Arithmancy," I said triumphantly, knowing that Ron wouldn't dare delve deeper into an issue regarding Arithmancy, seeing as he is absolutely clueless in the Arithmancy department and therefore hates discussing it.
"Arithmancy," Ron repeated skeptically. He's spent the rest of breakfast trying to read what I'm writing over my shoulder. That boy is the nosiest person I have ever met.
Hm, it's nearly ten o'clock…the nosiest person I have ever met and I should probably head to our prefects' meeting.
12:00 p.m.
Draco Malfoy is a disgusting, despicable excuse for a human being.
We were halfway through our meeting - Rob was talking about our extended duties during the Christmas season - when Malfoy evidently got bored and started talking to Pansy Parkinson in a low voice behind me.
"I got a letter from Father today…he's in close contact with Umbridge, you know, and he just wanted to let me know that he doesn't think it'll be much longer before that hairy oaf is sacked."
I clenched the arm of my chair and determinedly ignored him. I could sense his beady little eyes on my back; he was speaking loud enough so that I could overhear him, but Rob could not.
"It's the first step at purifying this sorry excuse for a school…half-breed filth and old frauds like Trelawney first…"
Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him, I chanted in my head.
I heard Malfoy's chair creak as he leaned forward so that I could make no mistake in hearing him. "...Mudbloods and Mudblood-lovers next," Malfoy whispered near my ear.
Now, it's bad enough that he used the M word; it's even more infuriating that his father is in cahoots with Umbridge, and that they're working together to get Hagrid fired; but for some strange reason, the thing that really set me off was the feeling of that foul creature's breath on the back of my neck. I can't explain why. But for whatever reason I abruptly spun around and yelled, "SHUT UP!" at the top of my lungs.
Rob halted mid-sentence, bewildered. Ron looked over at me in great surprise, and every other head in the room swung around to stare at me.
"I beg your pardon?" Rob exclaimed.
"Not you," I said, feeling my cheeks flush.
Margaret Hunter, the Head Girl, raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you feeling well, Hermione?"
"I'm fine," I muttered, humiliated. I could practically feel Malfoy gloating behind me.
"All right then…" Rob said slowly, and launched back into his explanation of our Christmas duties.
Perfect. Now the Head Boy thinks I'm insane, and Malfoy had the satisfaction of seeing me lose my temper. I am currently in a very foul mood and I know it and I don't care. I didn't even speak to Ron after the meeting; I just went straight up to my dormitory without saying a word to anyone because I was so embarrassed and infuriated. What makes the whole situation worse is that I'm constantly telling Harry and Ron to just ignore Malfoy, and I couldn't even follow my own advice.
Speaking of Harry and Ron, I think Ron's explaining what happened at the meeting to Harry right now. As if I'm not eating lunch right here next to them.
12:35 p.m.
"…and then she stormed out of the meeting without saying a word to anybody," I heard Ron say as I was finishing the last entry.
"I'm right here," I announced loudly.
"Well sorry," Ron retorted. "I figured you were too busy writing in that bloody book again to bother explaining what happened yourself. What the hell are you writing about now? And don't try to tell me it's Arithmancy."
"Mind your own business," I snapped, slamming my journal shut. I stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.
"Huffy!" Ron yelled after me.
Prat.
9:45 p.m.
Argh!!! Ron Weasley is the most infuriating boy on earth!!!
Incidents From Today Alone That Support the Aforementioned Theory That Ron Weasley is the Most Infuriating Boy on Earth:
1) He tried to read my letter from Mum and Dad.
2) He then tried to weasel it out of me that Viktor was mentioned in said letter.
3) He called me huffy (twice).
4) He pestered me about writing in my journal (twice).
5) He then tried to read my journal when I left it lying around in the common room!!!
After dinner, I was helping Ginny with her Arithmancy homework when I remembered that my Arithmancy notes from last year were in my trunk up in the dormitory. Ginny and I decided to run upstairs and get them, leaving all of our stuff (including my journal) on the table we were working at. After a few minutes of searching we finally found the notes, and then headed back down to the common room. I froze at the bottom of the stairs at the sight before me.
There was Ron, standing near our table, flipping through my journal with a puzzled look on his face.
"RON!" I shouted furiously.
Ron whirled around guiltily, the book still open in his hands.
"It's…it's blank…" he said, bewildered.
I marched over, snatched the book out of his hands, and then wordlessly stomped back up to my dorm. Ginny followed, which I wasn't aware of, because I nearly slammed the door in her face. She stopped the door with her hands before it smacked her in the face, though, and then calmly walked in. I was pacing the room, livid.
"That…that…disrespectful…prying…" I was too furious to even form a coherent sentence.
To my surprise, Ginny sat down on Parvati's bed and started laughing her head off.
"What is so funny?" I demanded.
"Did you see the look on his face?" Ginny hooted. "It's blank…'" She dissolved into laughter again.
I smiled wryly. "Well yes, that was quite satisfying. The charm on this book does come in useful…"
"We should probably go back down there, you know…I think you gave him a bad scare," Ginny said once her laughter subsided.
"I most certainly am not going back down!" I exclaimed indignantly. "He had absolutely no right to go snooping through my personal things!"
"Well of course he didn't," Ginny said. "But he's completely clueless, you know, and he's probably desperate."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Ginny sighed and got up. "Never mind. Shall I bring my Arithmancy homework up here, then?"
I can't believe him. What sort of immature, insensitive prat goes through other people's things? Especially my journal. Well, he doesn't know it's a journal, of course, but I'm sure he at least suspects it…oh, great, now Ron knows I keep a journal and he's probably laughing about it right now.
Well, that settles it. If you like a person, you most certainly do not go through their personal effects and read their mail and call them huffy. Well, good. I wouldn't want someone who's so incredibly pigheaded and disrespectful fancying me, anyway.
Ugh, it's been an absolutely horrid day. I've changed my mind; I can't wait for that skiing trip so I can get out of here and get away from Ron and Malfoy and Umbridge and everything.
