The Diary of Harry Potter
Entry 2:
Dear Diary,
I don't know why the Dursley's even bother to send me to the barbershop. They don't spend money one me unless they have to, and yet they still spend it on getting my hair cut. No matter how hard I try combing, it always looks messy. Not even wetting it down will work. Well, even though it looks messy, at least it's not tangled. I take good enough care of it for that.
Today, though, Aunt Petunia got even madder than usual with me, when I walked into the kitchen with my hair looking the same as usual even though I just got it cut today. She made me sit down in a chair at the table right then and there, pulled a pair of kitchen shears from the drawer, and started cutting away carelessly at my hair! When she was done with me, saying "There", I went and looked at myself in the mirror.
Seeing my reflection, I ran straight here to my cupboard. I look horrible, diary! I'm almost bald now . . . all I have left is a bit of bangs, which she left to "hide my horrible scar", as she put it. Why does she have to be so horrid to me? What did I ever do to her?
I can't go to school tomorrow, I just can't. Everyone already laughs at me for my stupid baggy clothes and taped glasses, just imagine how they'll react to my hair! Oh, what am I to do, Diary?
I've got to go to bed now, Diary, although I honestly don't know why I bother . . . I know I won't be able to sleep, anyway. With my luck, I'll probably have nightmares of tomorrow, then wake up, go to school, and then I'll have to live the nightmare! Hopefully, I'll think of some solution by morning. Maybe I can find a hat, or something . . .