Author's note: Hello, and thank you for sticking with me for the first actual chapter of my newest brain fart, The Diary! I assume you enjoyed the prologue enough to be here, so thank you!

If you have any questions, do not hesitate to question me.

Much love,

Katt

27th of September 1971

Dear diary,

I'm exhausted and terribly confused. Hogwarts is nothing I imagined. Instead it's much, much more.

Oh, yes. You may be wondering who I am (something I'm wondering myself, to be honest). But the thing I'm most curious about is why on earth I'm actually talking to a notebook as if it could talk back. You don't need to know who I am. You wouldn't even care if I told you. You can't speak. You can't think. You're a diary… But that also means you can't judge. So here goes nothing.

I'm Jemima Christine Kingsley. Rather ghastly name, isn't it? My parents' choice; certainly not mine, you see? I'm eleven and currently attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Shocker! I'm writing in a good-for-nothing diary right now because Mother thought it will help with my… current situation. I'm a witch. No, I'm not calling myself names. I'm not that insane yet. But yes. I'm a witch. And I don't feel like explaining how that happened to you because it's a long and tedious story.

Let's start the therapy, shall we?

I got sorted in Ravenclaw supposedly due to my astonishing wits. Can't say I'm not a bit proud of that. The rest of them houses seem rather stupid to me. Gryffindors are a bunch of stuck-up, dumb pricks, Slytherins are worse and Hufflepuffs… well, let's just say they're not the brightest of crayons. Or the most ambitious in the lot. Or the bravest. They're just… there. Don't tell this to anybody, but I think that house only exists to accommodate the rejects. There. I said it. Ha, but it's not like you can actually tell on me, can you? You stupid piece of paper.

I'm loving all of my courses so far, but I have to say Charms is the best. No question there. Professor Flitwick is a genius mastermind. And the Head of my own house! Yes, I'm getting my house pride on! Blue and bronze forever! I've gained about fifty points since the beginning of the term, my classmates even more. Dare I say that if we keep it up, we'll have the House Cup by the end of the year? Yes, yes I do.

I've met quite a few people. Some nicer than others. One is Remus, a really smart Gryffindor boy. No, I don't know why he's not a Ravenclaw either. Don't ask. Though, his friends are quite a thick lot. James is a troublemaker, Sirius is a stuck-up arse and Peter is… awful to listen to and look at. Then there's also Lily, and she's a great girl. Really bright, that one. Another Ravenclaw in disguise, I would say. I'm friends with all my roommates as well! Let's see, there's Gillian, she's muggle-born (like me!), Arabella (she's a bit of a loony) and Joy (lives up to her name), and they're all incredibly nice, which is a blessing! I've heard from Gillian that there's this girl a few years above us that's stuck with three pompous brats. I would say we're rather lucky.

Anyway.

I heard from one of the older students that Slughorn, the Potions professor, has some kind of a club in which he invites students he deems "promising" and "bright". I know it's a scheme. If they do indeed get rich and famous, he believes they won't forget him and he's in for some favors. A bit selfish. But I still want in. They say it's a good starter. Like with Johanna Silverslate. She graduated last year. I heard that she was so good at Quidditch, that he got her a job at the Daily Prophet as a Quidditch Reporter and now she travels the world, is present at all of the important matches (best seats only!) and she gets to ride the best, most performant brooms. Not that I care about brooms, or Quidditch for that matter. I think it's a rather silly game. Violent and useless. But then again, I wouldn't mind some recognition from Slughorn. I will get in that club, even if I have to step on bodies to get there. Besides, Lily, Gillian and I are his best students so far and he absolutely adores us.

On another note, I suddenly hold a very strong dislike for cats. They're everywhere around here, and it's positively annoying; meowing and screeching all the time. My roommates all have cats; why couldn't they have gotten something more useful, like I did? Get an owl, for the love of God! Or Merlin, as those raised by magical folk say. As soon as I realized we're allowed to bring pets, I got myself an owl. Nothing overly fancy, of course. It's a barn owl that I named Atticus. I tied a red piece of string to his leg so that I could actually recognize him easily in the Owlery. You would not believe the amount of barn owls at Hogwarts. And the Owlery smells terrible.

Oh! I remembered! There are these… letters, I think, called Howlers. Basically, you get them from your parents and they yell at you (I presume?). Afterwards, they catch fire, but if you don't open them, they explode! That is amazing! Sirius got one of those a few days back from his mother… Something or other about being a "traitorous little scum"…

"Oh, boy…"

"Is that what I think it is?" called a positively terrified looking Remus, while placing his fork down. Breakfast had to wait for this, his delicious potpie included.

"O-oh, oh, no! Sirius, open it!" squeaked Peter, attempting in vain to hide his rather large figure behind a bowl of gravy. "It's going to explode if you don't!"

"Shut up, Peter!" James placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder after throwing Peter a dirty look. "Don't open it if you don't want, mate. I'm sure we can endure it, no?" He already knew what this letter was about. Mrs. Black had sent Sirius a Howler; and an angry looking one at that. Surely it was about being sorted into Gryffindor, breaking a long-lived family tradition in the process. "The most ancient and noble house of Black", as Sirius mockingly called it, was as obsessed about its heritage as it was about Slytherin pride; and he had utterly destroyed his mother's hopes that he himself would be just like them.

"Nah, James, don't think about it," said Sirius, gingerly opening the Howler. "What else can she complain about that she hasn't already?"

Sirius barely finished his sentence before the letter seemingly came to life before their eyes.

"How dare you?! How dare you, you ingrate?! You ungrateful traitor! Dishonorable! Filthy! Muggle-loving scum! We raised you! We fed you! We took care of you! And this is how you repay us! Oh, the shame! How will we ever live with the shame, Sirius Orion Black?! Undeserving of you name is what you are! A disgrace! A disgrace to our fathers! A - a freak! The shame! You should be ashamed of yourself! Your father and I will be expecting you letter regarding some sort of explanation for your acts! For dragging our name through mud! Filth!"

And just like that, with that last, less than dignifying word, the letter burst into flames, leaving three mortified young men and a rather angry looking Sirius staring at its ash.

His mother was a ghastly woman. Walburga Black had a knack for driving him mad. And that only because he was placed in Gryffindor. He was sure his "actions" were to be punished when he went home for Christmas. No good deed went unpunished in the "house of her fathers".

Remus looked around the Great Hall and saw eyes staring and mouths whispering. With a sigh he turned to his friend. He tried his best to hide his anger and annoyance, but his hands were balled into his lap, shaking, and his face was pale as parchment.

"What are you looking at, you sods?!" yelled a squeaky voice from the Ravenclaw table. Jemima Kingsley was now glaring at everybody she set her eyes on, her hands firmly placed on the table. "His family business is of no concern to you! Bugger off now, before I turn your hair green!" Even if it was an empty threat, Remus saw everyone's eyes leave the Gryffindor table. The mousy little girl was surprisingly terrifying and he couldn't help but wonder if she actually knew a spell that would change hair color.

Her eyes softened as she caught his gaze and she send a tiny phantom of a smile his way, before turning her head towards Sirius. Of course, she was caught off guard when she saw said boy raise his eyes from the ash, glaring at her as hard as his little face could muster. "The nerve", she must've thought. But Remus knew. Sirius' ego was as great as his family's hatred towards muggles, and Jemima had just shattered what little had remained of his dignity. A girl – a Ravenclaw! – had defended his honor. That was unspeakable and incredibly undesirable in his opinion.

Jemima sent Sirius a nasty look before returning to her Pumpkin Pasties, while the boys took turn in comforting a less than pleasant young Black.

He had the nerve to glare at me! I reckon I did well coming to his aid. But he had to go and be a right prat about it, that swine. Ungrateful sod! That was the last time I did something for Sirius Black, the thankless twit!

Thankfully, Lily is on my side. She dislikes Potter and his little gang perhaps even more so than myself. I think it's because of the way they act towards a Slytherin… Snape, I think. Severus. What a weird name. Perfectly fitted for him, if you ask me! He's a nutter, that one. I don't understand why Lily is so taken with him, but who am I to ask if she doesn't want to tell? She can be friends with anyone she wishes, of course! And she certainly doesn't wishes Potter, thank Heavens!

Oh, and wait! You didn't think I left things as they were, did you? Did you really believe that after Sirius behaved like a sodding baboon I just hung my head low and left the matter to wilt away? Of course not! I cornered Remus in the library the other day, demanding to know about his friend's attitude…

Remus felt… claustrophobic. Caught in a tight corner of the library, between stacks of books and none other than tiny Jemima Kingsley, the one with the very fiery, very threatening glance, he felt like a little child, readying himself up for a good, old-fashioned scolding.

Jemima caught him at his most vulnerable of times: while immersing himself into one of his books, reading away. She was grateful for that. He had been an easy target. She was more than ready to start her questioning, and he was more than ready to deliver the wanted answers.

"Tell me why," she demanded, trying to look as dangerous as she could.

"I – I've no idea what you're talking about, Jemma." He had hoped that using her nickname might actually tame the beast. He had been positively wrong.

"Don't "Jemma" me, Lupin!"

Uh-oh! Last name basis… this was much serious than Remus first thought. Jemima was here for answers, that much he knew. Answers regarding Sirius. That he knew as well. And he wanted to comply, of course! But that would've meant talking behind his friend's back, and that was against his beliefs as a man. As a Gryffindor. As a Gryffindor man.

Trying to be as diplomatic, yet stern as he could, Remus puffed out his chest and tried to move past the little imp of a girl. "There is nothing I can help you with, Kingsley." Two were able to play that game. "If you need questions about Sirius to be answered, you can go ask Sirius himself!"

"So you do know what I'm talking about."

He had been caught. Gulping, Remus glanced at his tiny friend and after a long pause he decided that she only meant well. He walked past her and seated himself in one of the chairs scattered messily around the library, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than it already was.

"What do you want to know, Jem?"

"Why he acted like a blithering idiot, of course!" Jemima snapped, taking a seat in a chair adjacent to his, straightening her back and looking him straight in the eyes. She was rather scary, he thought.

But Jemima didn't care. She wanted answers. And she wanted them quick, for she still had a long essay for Potions due the next day.

"You know that already, Jem. You wounded his ego." Remus answered. Of course she already knew that. But she had thought that even that didn't make the glare Sirius threw her remotely understandable. Man pride was something she never accustomed herself with. In her family, women wore the metaphorical pants. Her father listened to her mother and he never strayed from her word. That was the world she wanted to live in, the one she was familiar with. Sirius' pride was foolish and not at all needed. She wanted actual answers.

But there weren't any, as far as Remus was concerned. He could tell she was not happy or satisfied at all with his reply, but he didn't know what else to tell her. Sirius hadn't spoken for the rest of the day. And the following two days the only things he spoke of were Jemima's nerve and annoying voice. Afterwards, he started talking about her awful hair – the ugliest shade of brown he had ever seen, according to him, and her eyes – far too big for her face and far too mad for anyone to look into without feeling a compulsory need to flee, and her height – she was rather short for her age, but that wasn't unheard of, and her awful, sweet smell. Sirius complained that she smelled too sweet and it made him want to barf every time they were assigned seats too close to each other. Remus thought those comments were incredibly far-fetched, and if he hadn't known better, he would've said Sirius actually fancied Jemima Kingsley a tiny bit. But he quickly forced those thoughts out of his head and instead made himself believe that the only reason Sirius made those comments about her hair was that he ran out of things to complain about.

"Tell you what, Remus. You should make sure your friend shrinks his ego some, or his broom won't be able to sustain his big fat head much longer!"

And with a huff, Jemima gathered her robes and left the library, leaving Remus as confused as she had when she showed up.

He is an insufferable git, that Sirius Black. The worst!

But enough of that. I will write some more another time. Right now I'm tired beyond belief and there is still too much homework to be done.

Too-da-loo!

Jemima Christine Kingsley

First year extraordinaire