I think its safe to say that I'm not looking forward to my sixth year at Hogwarts. The teachers hate me, the classes are boring (I sleep better in the History of Magic classroom than in my own bed), the food is bad…
Plus my fellow Ravenclaws hiss and throw things (mostly only crumpled up pieces of paper, thank Merlin) at me, and frankly, I have no idea why.
OK, so in my third year I tripped the Seeker and consequently broke his leg a week before the Quidditch Cup. But he could have had the nurse fix him up. It's not my fault he was a bit of a wuss and wouldn't take the potion to mend his leg. You'd think that people would commend me for showing everyone what kind of person he really was, but nooooo, I just cost everyone the Cup.
And, yea, I did start a fire in the Common Room the day right before NEWT testing in my fourth year. But really, it was only a tiny one, and the fifth years shouldn't have had their notes that close to the fireplace anyway. Honestly, I think they should be happy that I pointed out how bad it is to hold papers out while standing next to a fire!
You know, despite the fact that it's very obvious, that you, er, shouldn't.
And you'd think my housemates would be over the little incident last year. So what if I lost us fifty points? It's fifty points! And, yea, OK, it was the first time we would have won the House Cup in fifty years, but it's not that bad. I mean, a hippogriff could have come in and killed us all, and that would have been infinitely worse.
Seriously, I'm the only one who properly appreciated the irony of the whole situation. You know, fifty years, fifty points. Everyone else was like , "Oh, thanks for ruining the chance for us, Miss Screw Up," which really, if you think about it, wasn't all that clever. I mean, they could have added an alliteration in there or at least something.
And you'd think that my fellow Ravenclaws would appreciate my effort for a good grade. So what if I was caught nipping into the Restricted Section of the library? I had permission! It was all legal and everything.
It shouldn't have mattered that it was one o'clock in the morning.
It was all in the name of academia!
I sometimes think that I am sorely under-appreciated.
Anyway, despite all these very valid reason why I do not want to go back to Hogwarts, the main reason is… well…it's because…
I'm in love with a seventh year who doesn't even know I'm alive.
I know, I know, I shouldn't let a boy dictate my life, but honestly, this man is gorgey! Tall, shaggy brown hair, drool-worthy brown eyes. And before you start thinking I'm only after the man's body –which is, I must say, glorious. I saw him shirtless last year, and mrrawr!-I'll have you know that he is smart, and funny too. And incredibly nice to animals. I saw him go straight up to this slimy thing that Professor Hasgrown called a Snarkle-Sproof or…something, and start crooning to it.
Actually, now that I think about it, that was really rather disturbing.
But I'm sure that it was only a joke. He's really witty that way, always thinking up something funny. It's rather clever of him to come up with something that amusing. You know, odd enough that only supremely observant people would pick up on it.
I wonder why he's not in Ravenclaw.
Well, no matter. I picked up on it, and I'm sure no one else did. You know, besides his friends.
See, we're obviously meant for each other! He needs someone that could understand and appreciate his quirky side – that must be why he wasn't put into Ravenclaw. We're all perfectly normal, boring people, really- and I'm just that person.
Honestly, I don't know what I was so worried about! Going back to Hogwarts is obviously the right choice! My teachers and classmates will love me, the classes and food will be better, and me and my one true love will finally end up together once and for all!
This year is going to be great; I can feel it in my bones.
I've been on this train for two and a half hours, and already my year is turning out to be a complete disaster. I've tripped a Hufflepuff prefect, gotten sneered at by a Slytherin first year (can you see how completely unassuming I am? I can't even scare a first year.), and I've missed the snack trolley.
Looking back, I can see that I was feeling far too optimistic by half.
Other than that, nothing too interesting has gone on in my life. Just packing and getting ready for Hogwarts.
I just realized I forgot my potions book.
OK, just finished writing a letter to my mum. I'm going to have to wait till I'm at Hogwarts to send it though, since we've only got a family owl, Howard, and I couldn't bring him with.
But no matter, I'm sure I'll be able to find a more than capable owl to bring me my book by tomorrow. You know, a strong, sturdy one who's name is also strong and sturdy, like… Magnus or…Phinnaeus.
Sometimes I think it's amazing that I'm even allowed out of the house.
I think that this is the worst part of having no friends. You know, the whole no one to talk to thing. Because sitting here with nothing better to do than stare out the window with my stomach gurgling is not exactly my idea of fun.
I mean, sure, I could read one of my textbooks, but I've read them all, even the potions one that is sitting on my desk at home. And rereading a book that I'm just going to end up rereading during the course of the school year, well, it's not my cup of tea.
Speaking of tea, I'm hungry. Seriously. I didn't eat any breakfast this morning because I thought I would be eating on the train. Only, as I said earlier, I missed it, and now my arm is looking very tasty.
I was using that as a figure of speech. I wouldn't actually eat my arm. I'm not into self-mutilation, nor am I into cannibalism. I was merely trying to show you how hungry I am by pointing out that I would eat myself to stop my hunger.
I think I was better off looking out the window.
Well, that was… interesting.
But mostly just interesting.
OK, so it was a little while after I stopped writing, and I was leaning up against the window, just thinking when I heard this loud, "Snap!" coming from right out the compartment door. So I went to the door, slid it open…
Just in time to see this Slytherin come flying through the air and land sprawling at my feet.
Me being, well, me, I squeaked and tried to close the door… Only, again, me being me, I ended up slamming the door on the Slytherin's fingers. There was another snap!, this from his fingers, and he let out a growl, and I squeaked again. A most unladylike and inhuman noise, I am sad to say.
After the squeaking, I kicked his hand away, causing him to yell and growl. It was a very animalistic conversation, what with all the growling and the squeaking. I only realized how much of the prey I was when, after I closed and locked the compartment door, the Slytherin jumped up and started kicking the door. Seriously, he was kicking it so hard that the entire compartment was shaking. And I was shaking on the inside.
(If you can tell, I'm to milk this for all it's worth and make it sound more interesting. I really don't have a life. Sigh.)
It was getting to the point where the Slytherin was going to basically kick open the door. But just as I was about to get ready to throw my arms up over my head and pray to Merlin to redeem my poor unfortunate soul, there was another noise (not a snap! so much as a Poing) and the Slytherin keeled over and died.
Or, well, I thought he died. I mean, it was a quite reasonable assumption. One minute he was kicking down a door, and the next he was a puddle on the floor. So I did what any person with half a heart would do.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
It was obvious that the Slytherin wasn't dead, because after I nudged –kicked- him with my shoe he kind of rolled over and moaned. Feeling better about the whole situation, I turned to walk into my compartment (without kicking the prone Slytherin. … Much.) only to be stopped by a male voice saying loudly, "Hey, the spell worked, guys!"
I turned around to see who the speaker (and my savior) was and…
Fell in love.
The birds sang.
The angels fell from the sky.
For there was an Adonis standing in front of me. Well, OK, not an Adonis since they're all golden haired and shiny. But this guy was just as handsome, sexy, and squeal-worthy as any Adonis could ever wish to be. He was tall, with black hair, deep gray eyes, and a scowl on his brow that made my soul dance a jig.
"Who the Hell are you?"
It really was too bad he had the personality of an ass.
"I'm," going to marry you, "Pippa Rightwing." I may or may not have fluttered my eyelashes at him at this point. … OK, I did. "And you are?" Besides one very drool-worthy man.
"He's a bloody dead man," said a voice from beneath me. "And you will be one too, once you stop showing me your nether bits."
I looked down to see a very irate Slytherin shoving my robes out of his face. My face turned a bright red and I squeaked (really, I'm going to need to find a new noise to make.), and then I practically dove into my compartment.
I heard the sexy dark Adonis say, "Really, Sevvy, she'll be a dead woman. Unless, of course, you saw something underneath her robes to make you say otherwise." He looked into my compartment, where I was huddled up on the seat. "Oi! You there! Are you a man or woman?"
I'm glad to say this is where I got my composure (somewhat) back. I glared at him. And who said I was meek? (You know, besides me.) I am woman, here me roar!
Well, at least, that's what I was thinking before the evil, evil seventh year put a hand to his chest and said, "And here I was, just trying to be friendly to a girl who obviously has no friends at all."
At this point I was devising the best way to kill someone and have it look like an accident. I was just about to conjure up something, anything (with my luck it would end up being a pineapple or the like) and hope for the best when three more boys came up behind the seventh year.
"Merlin, Sirius, you sure did a number on Severino over here. He's on the floor moaning and groaning."
The Slytherin on the floor (Sevvy? Severino?) said something very… rude, and attempted to get up off the ground.
At this the seventh year, Sirius, grinned. "Oh, no James. He's just doing that because he saw her," he nodded to me, "how did you put it, Sev Darling? Oh, yes, nether bits."
The boy James looked over Sirius' shoulder and said to me, "Oh, you poor dear. I do hope you'll get some therapy."
If I had the right of mind, I probably would have glared at him too. Probably. Only I was too busy looking at the guy behind James.
It was my love.
My very soul.
And also the boy that I mentioned in my very first entry.
And he had just heard that "Sev Darling" had seen my "nether bits".
I think it's safe to say I died.
I lunged from my seat (sans squeaking, I might add) and slammed the door. There was laughing between all of the boys (minus Sevvy/Severino/Sev Darling, obviously) for a few moments. Loooong moments. Moments I will replay and relive for probably the rest of my life. Sigh.
After laughing at mine and Sevvy/Secerino/yougetthepicture's expense, the four boys walked off. About forty seconds after that the Slytherin (that's just so much easier to say) got up off of the ground and left. But not after he threw me a dirty look.
And really, how wholly unfair is that? He looked at me like I killed a baby! I'm not completely skewed. It's not like I stripped down and made him look at my "nether bits".
Something just occurred to me.
The first man to see my "nether bits" glared at me.
I must be deformed! Inhuman! There must be something wrong with me!
Thanks Sev/Sevvy/Sev Darling! Something else for me to obsess over!
I think I would be best if I just killed myself now. Then no one would have to see my "nether bits" and be scarred for life.
Oh Merlin. Another thought just occurred to me.
All hope of getting together with my one true love has gone out the window.
Now I'm going to have to throw out all of the notebooks I wrote "Mrs. Pippa Lupin" on.
And those are a lot of notebooks.
But not as much as this:
They're making me sleep on the couch.
Because they're afraid I'll, "somehow kill us in our sleep." Well, honestly, a few little mistakes and everyone thinks I'm going to blow up the room, or send raging hippogriffs after them!
It's not my fault that my fork went sailing and hit Whitticker Velo in the eye. If Rowania Foxkithia hadn't knocked my elbow the whole incident wouldn't have happened. And all because of that, I'm not allowed to sleep in a bed. Nooo, I get the couch. In front the fire. Which I have problems around.
That's it. That's the last time I sit next to a Hufflepuff at the Ravenclaw table.
That somehow doesn't sound right.
Well, I'll figure it out in the morning.
Drat, I never sent that letter to Mum. Must get to owl in the morning.
Must be sure to get Hansel or Jerome… strong bird…
Ahh, I'm sleepy…
Oh, and I've got two weeks detention for breaking Severus Snape's (that's Sevvy/Severino/Sev Darling's name) fingers.
But other than that, nothing.
Disclaimer: Yea, I'm not J.K Rowling.
Author's Notes: This is the first of my "fixed" chapters. I hope I got all of the errors.