14th September
I've always wanted to fly. I constantly thought as a kid that I'd love to have the superpower. To have the wind flowing through my hair, to feel free to take myself on a trip with no destination... that is what I want. Flying lessons are today and well, actually, I'm terrified.
Neville is horrified at this fact. He's constantly getting himself into trouble, while only yesterday he ripped his bag and dropped his books from the fourth floor to the bottom. Then Peeves proceeded to hide them in the most mysterious of places. How he did it, I do not know! I recon Neville just doesn't want to make a fool out of himself again in front of the Slytherins. Then there's Hermione, she's borrowed at least 10 books from the library and has been sitting reading them to the early hours of the morning. Just last night she woke me up from the most splendid dream (I'll spare you the details) when repeating the line, "There are 700 fouls in Quidditch; all are known to have been committed in the first world cup in 1473." Like honestly, who cares? Or should I rephrase? Who cares at 2:34 in the morning? Wish me luck.
I didn't actually get to fly. How unfair? Madam Hooch had us all out in the grounds and Neville, (of course it had to be Neville), decided to lose control of the broom, fall and proceed to break his wrist and have the lesson cancelled. The sounds of that momentous occasion went something like this... *SPLAT**SNAP* *SCREAM* It wasn't pretty.
Madam Hooch took Neville to the hospital wing and then Draco started to show off. He looked directly at me and gave his stupid little cunning smile right after taking Neville's remembrall. Harry was ready for hitting him, got on the broom and appeared as a natural. First time on a broom, and he was that good, he gives hope to us all! As Harry dived for and caught the remembrall, Hermione screamed, Ron let out a magnificent "Whoop" and I unknowingly shook my head in disbelief saying the word "Wowzah."
Then Professor McGonagall appeared and Harry was taken. We all thought he was going to be kicked out of Hogwarts. That night however, at dinner, Harry returned for what we thought was going to be his last meal. He sat opposite me but beside Ron. I stated proudly, "For what it's worth, that was some amazing flying!"
"Thanks." He replied rather gloomily. But then he beamed saying in a hushed tone, "I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team! I'm seeker!"
"You're joking!" Ron and I said simultaneously.
Ron continued, "But you must be the youngest seeker of the-"
"Century! Wood told me. Please keep it a secret though; Professor McGonagall has done enough bending the rules for me today." Harry could hardly contain his exhilaration.
Fred and George came over to wallow in the excitement, telling us that they were on the Quidditch team too, as beaters. Thanks to Hermione, I could tell you exactly what their role is. When they left, Malfoy came over and winked at me before saying to Harry, "Having your last meal, Potter?" I looked away; I thought it best to be that way. I took a bit of my steak and kidney pie and nearly choked as Malfoy challenged Harry to a wizards duel, at midnight tonight. The two of them would beat each other black and blue if they had the chance! Harry accepted the challenge and Malfoy walked away, I said nothing.
Hermione happened to hear the end of the conversation, "Excuse me?" she said in an impatient tone.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron said. Hermione ignored him and tried to make Harry see sense, but with no luck. He told her that it was none of her business and Hermione's last word was "selfish". It was an argument that was best not to be continued.
In the dormitory that night, I was getting ready for bed whilst Hermione was muttering to herself as usual. Except this time it was different, she kept repeating 'Percy', 'bed' and 'points'. You'd think she was delusional if you hadn't lived in a close proximity with her for the past two weeks. When the last people had gotten into bed, she got up and proceeded toward the door, "Everything alight?" I asked her, making her jump, knowing exactly what she was planning on doing next.
"It's none of your business." Hermione snapped mocking what Harry had said earlier that evening. "I've got to stop them, no one else will and then Gryffindor will get into even more trouble. It seems like I'm the only person getting this house any points at the moment and no one is going to have them taken away from me" she said in a hushed manner, like the President of the United States addressing the nation. Or whatever the Wizarding equivalent is, you know...
I sighed at her and whispered, "Remember, with you being out of bed, you can lose us points as well, let them learn their lesson and get back into-." Before I finished she had already left the room, she was so stubborn at times, driven, but stubborn. I swung my legs out of bed ten minutes later and followed her down the stairs ever so quietly. I was wide awake. By the time I got there, the portrait door had just been closed and I sat in front of the fire and wrote this in my diary to you.
When they returned an hour later, I made a run toward the staircase and listened. The fat lady in the portrait didn't seem too amused at their untimely arrival. "Pig snout!" Harry said, catching his breath. They were all panicky and seemed to have been running a fair bit.
Ron was the first to talk, "What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school? If any dog needs exercise, that one does!'
'Dog?' I thought to myself, 'What have they been up to?'
Hermione was in a bad mood, stating, "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?"
"The floor?" Harry replied, "I was too busy with its heads!"
'Heads...?' my imagination was on overdrive? A dog with many heads, according to Hermione, standing on a trap door, in the school. Makes loads of sense.
Hermione made her own conclusions, 'If you three don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another plan to get us all killed, or worse... expelled!" she stomped toward the stairs.
And with that... I ran.
15th September
It seems Neville was the third person, he looked like he'd seen someone being murdered (please forbid it), and he was pale and jumpy. I asked him if he was alright and he confessed the whole thing to me. He didn't want the three-headed dog from the third floor to come after him. If he was going to be punished, he would prefer to be expelled and sent back to his Gran, rather than see it again. The poor boy wouldn't eat and went straight back to the common room.
"I hope you three are proud of yourselves." I spoke only too late as post had arrived and Harry received what looked like a broomstick. Now was not the time to say anything.