Warning: You are about to enter the COMPLETELY NON-POSSESSING diary of Ginny Weasley. If you do not have permission to read this sacred thing, I strongly suggest backing away slowly, so as not to startle it.

Yes, startle it. I have hexed this diary to be quite violent when it's in a mind to be. And it is in a mind to be violent towards any of the following at any time: Ronald Weasley, Charlie Weasley, Bill Weasley, Percy Weasley (You great git), Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Mum, Dad, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and anyone to currently attend Hogwarts.

Anyone on the planet except me, actually. So unless I have given you WRITTEN permission, don't even TRY IT. You will sorely regret your decision.

Furthermore, there will be no speaking of this diary to ANYONE. Is that clear? If you are granted permission to enter this sacred and holy book, under NO CIRCUMSTANCES will you blab on pain of the Weasley Temper. I have prepared hexes for it, as well. I don't care if bloody Voldemort himself is threatening you. The contents are PRIVATE. They are also completely my own. No one is replying.

However, in the event that this diary is possessed, I'll be sure to attack those of you who have managed to avoid being skewered first: muggleborn or not. Got that?

So, then. I wish all of you a very nice day. KEEP OUT!

-Ginny Weasley

Saturday night, on my bed, 9:30 p.m.

Hmph. I will make it very, very clear to you, anyway (as no one in this ruddy family seems to buy it) that I am not in love with Harry Potter. I am, in fact, completely over him and see no reason why anyone would want to be in love with him and his brilliantly green eyes, messy, adorable hair and boyish smile…

Er. That is to say. You know. Ego.

Not all that other stuff. That's all just…left over. From when I did fancy Potter. (Which I don't. Not anymore. Nope.) I meant 'him and his enormous ego and the dangerous situations that he always gets himself and others into and yet manages to pull out alive because he's really brave and heroic and—'


Didn't mean any of that rubbish, either. I simply meant 'Ego'. Enormous ego.

I repeat, I am not in love with Harry Potter. He is nothing more than my older brother's best friend. Is that perfectly clear? I'm in love with Dean Thomas, my current boyfriend, and I am not regretting dating him. As a matter of fact, I'm quite glad.

Oh, bollocks, who the hell do I think I'm fooling? No one, that's who. Not even my ruddy self! I must suck at acting if I can't even fool myself. Actually…I imagine I might be the hardest to fool, because I know how I feel.

So maybe I'm an okay actress, after all? I mean, Harry doesn't know.

But I digress. The point is, even if I do love Harry—which I don't; it's merely…merely…oh, stay the ruddy hell out of my business, will you!—I am right now getting over him. My plan is brilliant. I simply do not allow myself to think or speak of/to him.

Unless it's something like, "Pass me the butter, please,", "Have you seen my broomstick?", or "Will you marry me?"


I didn't mean that.

Ginny, get a hold of yourself! You cannot like Harry Potter! Do you understand me? You must get over him, because he is the bloody Boy-Who-Lived (To-Put-This-Poor-Girl-Through-Hell) and he has more important things to do than humor you're silly little infatuations.


It's a pain in the ass, this unrequited love thing.

Well, anyway. Seeing as I am not speaking or thinking of Harry, we'll move onto cheerier topics. For example: Quidditch! If Ron makes prefect (Hah. Yeah, right. With Harry in his grade? No chance in hell…NO! BAD GINNY! YOU ARE NOT THINKING OF HIM!) then Mum and Dad will buy him something of his choice…I'll bet you money he gets a broomstick or something.

Oooo, my kingdom for a new broomstick!

Not that my kingdom is all that great. I mean, what have I got worth selling? Let's see, shall we? Maybe my favorite shoes.

But I like those shoes.

I could always just get Harry to buy me a new broomstick. He's got enough money for it.


So…new topic once more. Oh! I got it! Perfectly Harry-free. Hermione is coming tomorrow! Hurray! And if Mum can wrangle it, Dumbledore might let Harry come with her!

Sigh. This is hopeless. For the last time: Ginny, please, please stop thinking about Harry Potter.

Top Ten Reasons Why I Should Not Like Harry Potter

10.) Because he's number one on You-Know-Who's (Actually, do you know who? I mean, you're a diary. Do you really know anything?) hit list. It would compromise my life and also be a damned bother.

9.) He is Ron's best friend. Ron would eat him (and me) alive.

8.) I am trying to get Ron to understand that he is in love with Hermione, but he simply will not listen. And I need Harry's help to do this. But that would mean bonding time with Harry, and…wait. Isn't that against my cause?

7.) I would have no excuse for making very dignified lists such as this one.

6.) Too much publicity. He would always wonder if I was dating him for his fame.

5.) Of course, if he knows me at all by this point, he'd know that I would never do that to him. Or anybody.

4.) But sometimes I wonder about that boy. He's so thick about these things, it's almost comical.

3.) Wouldn't it make things awkward between my Mum and him? Not to mention Fred and George…what they would do is to horrifying to think about.

2.) You don't think they'd castrate him, do you? I mean, I know they said they were going to do that to Michael, but…no, no they wouldn't. That would be evil.

1.) I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So there you go. The top ten reasons why I should not like Harry Potter.

Lists suck. I hate that list. I don't want it anymore. Where is the point in making lists? They don't accomplish anything. I mean, what does that list actually tell me?

…That would be the top ten reasons why I don't like Harry Potter.


Piece of junk, if you ask me.

Saturday night (later), kitchen sink, 10:45 p.m.

In spite of how ridiculous this looks, the kitchen sink is rather comfortable. I mean, sure, it's square, and cold, but besides that…I think I will return here to write more often.

Late at night of course, when no one will possibly see me. Wait…I think hear something. Where is my wand? I've got to go check this out, hold on…

Oh, hell. It was just Ron. And honestly—that boy deserved getting poked in the eye with a sharp wand.

"Hello?" I called, stepping cautiously out into the living room. No one answered. "Anyone in here?" Then suddenly, someone reached out and put their hand over my mouth. I screamed into it, squirming madly. I leapt away and whirled around, jabbing furiously with my wand.

"Mmmmrph! Ouch! Stop! Stop! GINNY!" I stopped poking when I realized that I knew the voice. I screeched.

"Ron?" I hissed angrily. "Is that you?"

"Yes, Ginny!" He whispered back. "You poked me in the ruddy eye!" I scowled.

"Good, you prat. Why the hell did you scare me like that? I thought you were a death eater or something!" He just grunted in reply and ambled into the kitchen, where the light was still on. He ambled over to the counter and saw you. He made a beeline, the git. "Hey!" I shouted, reaching desperately for it. He turned around, smirking evilly.

"Well, well, well, Gin, what have we here?" He pressed. I snarled at him and ripped it from his hands. I brought my wand back and jabbed him with all my strength in his stomach.

"Take that, you evil, conniving…" He stared at me from his doubled-over position. I smirked. "Don't touch the journal, Ronald."

He scowled. "Why not, Ginevra? Are there rants and raves about how much you love a certain Harry Potter?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "No." Yes. "For the last time, Ronald, I do not love Harry Potter!" I stomped my foot and stormed out of the kitchen, knocking over my hot-chocolate mug on the way. I heard the glass shatter and shouted, "Clean up the mess, you prick!"

"Sod off, Ginny!" He yelled back.

I turned back at him, yelling at the top of my lungs. "What do you think I'm doing?! Merlin!"

"Awww, just wish ickle Harry was upstairs to side with you, hmmm?"

"For the LOVE OF MERLIN…I DO NOT LIKE HARRY! UUUUUUURGH!" I threw my quill on the ground and came up to my room, where I am now.

It was a nice quill, too. Ah well. At least I woke up Mum and Dad, who are currently downstairs shouting at Ron for making a racket.

No more than he deserves, the prick. Accusing me of liking Harry! Bah!

…Well. I mean. Bah of him to do so. Especially because I continue to deny it.

Why, oh why, was I so open in my affections first year? Why couldn't I just keep my stupid mouth shut? Merlin, Ginny!

Okay. Plan B is commencing to rid myself of this disease known as Harry.

…I'll just figure out Plan B tomorrow. I'm too tired and angry to do so right now.

A/N: Review or eat a calculator.


Review, that is. Calculators can't be healthy.