So, here I am again…
Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.
Next day.
8.30 pm
Common Room
Am still rejoicing in the aftermath of the George Weasley Jumper Extravaganza. I haven't told the girls yet- they'd giggle in that really ditzy way of theirs- but it has added to my classroom daydreams all the same.
Later on that day George quietly asked me if he could have his jumper back since we were now in the Common Room and it was getting warm, which I prefer to omitt from memory as it was considerably less romantic than the previous Event.
Oh my god, I'm turning into a ditz. And to think that in third year everyone teased me for being a tomboy… how time flies.
The following day, as writing 'next day' seemed really boring.
7.00 pm
Detention with McGonagall
Yep, I'm in detention again. Have to write "I must not dance obscene dances in public" 500 times. And as anyone reading this diary may have guessed (and there better not be, because if so I'll break their face), McGonagall's just gone out. Probably to drink some warm hot chocolate while I sit here and freeze, the mean old cow.
Maybe I should explain why I'm here? Then my humilation will really be complete. Oh well, might as well go all the way.
See, Angelina, Katie and I arrived early to Herbology by some fluke of nature, and as we're not allowed into the greenhouses before Professor Sprout arrives, we had to stand outside, freezing our royal buttocks off, as my dear (not) older sister Bernice would say. So to amuse us and gives us something to do that might keep us a bit warmer, Katie demonstrated some sort of weird Muggle dance called the Macarena. It wasn't to hard to learn (a lot of strange arm movements), so Angelina and I joined in. You know, I almost regret not taking Muggle Studies… From what Katie tells us they seem to be quite an inventive group of people.
Anyway, this went on for quite a while, getting steadily more and more stupid. Not that this is a hard thing to achieve, mind you. Not amongst us. Then McGonagall took that moment to go for a brisk stroll around the grounds, saw us, and promptly put us all on detention. I think it was the hip wiggling that offended her.
I can't even talk to Angelina and Katie because they put us all in separate rooms. This diary is the only thing vaguely entertaining. Maybe I should ask Fred and George where they get those two-way mirrors of theirs…
Some days later
My dorm
About 2:00 am
Note to self: next time you're on detention, keep a better eye out for the teacher.
McGonagall walked in just as I was writing the last entry. Got this diary confiscated for a week and another two detentions.
But that's not the point.
The point is that oh wonder of wonders, we're going to have a BALL! On Christmas Day! And we came up with a Cunning Plan to ensure that Princess Fleur doesn't rob us of the spotlight. That's why I'm still up so late, we had to have a long talk to work out the details and then had to relay them down the hall to the other girls.
McGonagall's face when she accounced the Ball to us in Transfiguration was just priceless. When she said "Let our hair down" it almost seemed as if this phrase was painful to her. Classic.
Anyway, I'd better write down the (admittedly still patchy) details of the Cunning Plan, because knowing me I'll have forgotten them by morning. Oh yeah, it is already morning… I'll have to catch up on sleep during History of Magic.
By the Guardian of the Quaffles, why do I always keep getting DISTRACTED?
Before something glittery grabs my attention, I now present the Cunning Plan:
Oh, the three of us can't take credit for the original idea, but we can claim the rest of it…
Shut up Alicia, shut up Alicia! Get to the damn point!
So, the Plan. Around lunchtime after we had been told about the Yule Ball, Ginny came running up to us yelling "I've got an idea for the Cunning Plan!"
Naturally, we were intrigued. "Well, what have you got?" Angelina asked.
Ginny puffed about trying to regain her breath for about ten minutes, until I think all of us were ready to throttle her for the information. Finally she managaed to say: "I heard Fleur Delacour talk about what she was going to wear to the Ball a few minutes ago. Her robes sounds gorgeous, but I don't think we can do anything to that-"
"We could spill tomato juice on it," Katie suggested helpfully.
"Ah, but then we'd get in trouble and might be sent away from the Ball," Angelina pointed out.
"Good point."
Ginny was still puffing at this point as well as adding a few sneezes (I think she may have a cold). "Yeah well, that's not all. I heard Fleur describing this really nice silk scarf she had…" sneeze "that she inherited from her grandmother or something…" sneeze "that changes colour to blend with what clothes it's worn with" sneeze (I was starting to fear for her health at this point) "and she's going to wear it with her dress robes…" sneeze sneeze sneeze "but she has to be very careful because it's very valuable and a family heirloom, so she can't lose it." Sneeze. "So yeah," she finished, "can we do anything with that?"
"We'll work on it," Angelina said briskly. That girl is Quiddtich captain material.
So, here's our conclusion: At the Yule Ball, one of the United Hogwarts Women (most likely someone small) will steal the afore-mentioned scarf (do they call it a scarf or a wrap? Whatever) from Princess Fleur. The scarf will then be passed from girl to girl throughout the Ball, ensuring that in her mad search for it, Fleur will never find the culprit or the scarf as the scarf's location will be constantly changing. She will then be distracted throughout the entire Ball and we will have free choice of any elligible male we disire.
Alright, I admit it. The plan sucks. But it's a start.
8:30 am
Oh man, why do these pimples always crop up on my face a short while before a big event?
I have no luck.
Well, how do you like that one? I'm writing like wildfire at the moment- with any luck I'll be able to finish this fic before the end of the holidays! Expect Chapter 7 soon.
As always, please review. Seriously. They make me write faster.