Chapter Five- December
Horrible news, Journal. Arthur Weasley was attacked by a great dirty snake while on guard for the order. His poor family was so worried; his wife, and all seven of their children. Well, not Charlie, because he's in Romania, but I'm sure he was worried too. And not Percy, because he is a git.
He did give us a scare, but he turned out to be all right. I wish I had a family like the Weasleys. Instead I got dark wizards on one side, and muggles on the other. I don't think there's going to be a happy family reunion anytime soon. I do love my parents. Just seeing the Weasley kids run around, making mischief together makes me wish I had siblings. Then again, when the twins get going I think maybe I'm better off. Ginny says life would be lonely without someone to throw dung bombs at.
Her, I don't envy. Fancy having six older brothers. She's going with this Michael Corner character now, and I don't envy him either. Ron doesn't like him. Actually, all the Weasley boys seem to think Harry is the only one worthy of their little sister, but I think she's gone off him. It's hard to tell. For a fourteen year old, she's very good at hiding her feelings when she wants to. Wish I could do that.
At Mungo's, (this is stupid and I didn't want to tell you, but I am giddy thing) we were all there and about to go in to see Arthur and I said it should just be family first, so the rest of us hung back while Molly and her lot went in. Well, Remus just gave me this approving smile. My heart dropped a little, it felt so good for him to look at me that was. I told you it was stupid. Good thing you won't be telling anyone.
It's so dumb that I get worked up over a friggin' smile. And I still have pink hair. From time to time…today I had a green bob. It's like adolescence has never left. I'm hopelessly infatuated with a man way out of my league, and generation on top of that. I've been wracking my brains trying to think of what to get him for Christmas. The Order as a whole is doing a grab bag. But I want to get him something else, something special. I know it's silly, and he won't have gotten me something, but I don't care. It's just something I want to do. I've already gotten Sirius his present. I found it down Knockturn Alley. He'll get a kick out of it. For Remus, I was thinking about getting a bottle of Muttleberry wine. I know he enjoys it. See? Nothing big. I wanted to get him some new robes, but I didn't want him to take it as a personal insult. So maybe I'll just do the wine. That's a better idea. I hope…
I almost forgot to tell you! Don't know how I could, it's so huge…I guess it just got overshadowed in my mind by poor Arthur. Dumbledore has put me and Remus on assignment. Oh, Moody would kill me if he knew I was writing this down, but I've got a pretty good concealment charm on this thing, and besides that, I don't think the prime target of the notorious death-eaters would be my journal of private thoughts. Aren't real touchy-feely, that lot.
Anyway, our job is to travel north to spread the word that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, build and check on the resistance there. You know, establishing and maintaining contacts. Dumbledore chose Remus for the job because he's smart, sincere, convincing, and nobody there knows he is a werewolf, so he won't be discredited. Dumbledore chose me to go with him because there is a God. Well, that's not the reason he gave. He said it would be a good opportunity for me to gain some experience. Yes. Remus Lupin will help me gain experience. Is it possible to die of estrogen intoxication? I hope not. I'm trying so hard not to freak out. It's not working well.
We're slotted to leave in February, and come back whenever we're done. I've already told the Ministry that I'm taking a leave. Yeah, you can bet Scrimgeour gave me some nasty looks with his greasy eyebrows. He must be in allegiance with Snape in the never-wash-yourself club. Uhg. Dirty git.
With Christmas coming up soon, I've been working extra hard learning how to cook. Molly still hasn't given up on me, bless her. I think the trick is to slow down. Normally, I'm so full of energy that I just want to get it out by doing everything as fast as I can. In cooking, this doesn't do well. She's had me making deserts, and I've successfully made a tray of cookies, after realizing the concept that a higher temperature does not equate into faster cooking time. She says soon we can start on main courses. Cool.
N. Tonks