Disclaimer: To everyone who thinks I'm JK Rowling, go look in my profile. I'm not, so obviously I don't own Harry Potter.
Harry and Ron went to their room, coming back from breakfast.
"Do you want to read some more of my mum's diary?" asked Harry.
"Sure," said Ron, "let's read in the common room."
"Okay," agreed Harry.
In Mary's guest room, July 26th 1981
Before I tell you the story of my day, let me give you some information on Mary. She and I met on my first train ride to Hogwarts. I couldn't get onto the platform, and she helped me, and we decided to share a compartment. She became my best friend, along with Alice Prewett. Mary is a pure blood (someone who comes from an all-wizarding family), and is distantly related to Elaine Prince. This had never been interesting information to me until today. Now on with the story.
Let me first begin by telling you of earlier that day. I was so excited to finally be off my grounding and going to Mary's. I was all packed up and ready to go. Eventually, Mary came through floo powder, and we descended to her house the same way.
When we arrived, she led me to her room and put my bags down. Soon enough we were laughing and talking about our summers (I vented to her about James Potter, of course). Then someone came into the door. A certain someone I despise. A certain someone by the name of, wait, I'm being called to lunch.
In Mary's room, again, considerably happier than before, still July 26, 1981
So where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you about Mary's horrible guest. Well, normally I ask for suggestions (I love hearing the wrong predictions of others), but you're just a book, so you wouldn't answer anyway, right?
I thought so. Oh, help me, I'm conversing with a book. Anyway, today after my shock I had some fun with the guest involving muggle and wizard pranks.
I've gotten off topic, I do that a lot, you know. Obviously you don't know, since you don't know me and you're an inanimate object that is incapable of knowing me or anything about me.
As I was saying, I get off topic a lot. Like this one time I was debating with my divination teacher, (it's really no use, you know, to debate with teachers because no matter what you say, the teacher wins), and I began to debate about whether or not I was going to meet an untimely demise ("I can see it in this teacup, I'm very skilled at this." "You're just being stupid, how can you tell whether or not I'm going to die by just looking into cups?"). Awfully useless subject, divination is, I don't know why I took it, I think I thought it was going to be fun, but it was horrid. I make a lot of bad assumptions, but at the moment I'm trying to explain how I easily get off topic, so I'll just fill you in on bad assumptions later. Eventually, the debate turned into a debate on which teacups were better for the class ("You expect us to take this class seriously, when we use pink teacups? Pink is such a frivolous color!").
Have I mentioned how much I truly hate the color pink? It's absolutely horrid! I don't know what it is about the color, but I just can't stand it! It's not like I'm a tomboy or anything, I just don't like pink. My favorite color is a dark, sparkly purple. I used to have two favorite colors up until the fourth grade when I was informed I couldn't have two favorite colors. They were dark blue and sparkly red, so I just combined them.
Now what was I going to write? Oh, right! I was going to explain how I make bad assumptions. Like coming here, I thought it's be fun and everything, but it just turned out to be, well, I guess it did turn out fun. Okay, bad example, I normally don't give bad examples, and am quite good at arguing. Let me think of another one. I've got it! James Potter; when I first met him, it was on the train to Hogwarts, first year. He let me sit in a compartment with him and his friend Sirius, and two other boys who'd joined the compartment named Peter and Remus. These four would turn out to be the infamous Marauders, but I'll get to that later. So he let me sit with all of them and even helped with my luggage. I thought him to be quite nice. At least I did, until he purposefully spilled neon pink goo all over my hair. He tried to convince me it was accidental, but I knew much better than that. I declared war, and we've hated each other ever since.
It particularly annoys me when he asks me out. He's been doing it since third year. About halfway through fourth year, he tried to convince me he really liked me. I'm not that thick. He asks me out whenever he gets the chance and I can't stand it!
He always acts so surprised whenever I reject him, too. I mean, I must've done it like a thousand times (not exaggerating) and each time I say no he acts all shocked and shaken. But seriously, he's an annoying, bullying, prat!
He is so good at quidditch and transfiguration, so he feels the need to brag to everyone about it. Plus he pranks everyone in sight, including moi. He ruffles his sexy, jet-black hair so much just because it looks good! I mean, not his sexy black hair but his messy black hair. That's what I meant. He's also incredibly mean to some people for no reason whatsoever. I bet he does it just to annoy me.
He's always trying to annoy or impress me just so I'll go out with him! The nerve! Does he not get that no matter how many times he wins a quidditch match or turns my hair bright pink that I will never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever
ever go out with him! However I don't think that'll happen until it snows in Miami.
"Harry, Ron!" Hermione called out. "Where are you?"
"Over here," Harry called from where he was reading the book with Ron in front of the fire.
"There you are," said an exasperated Hermione. "Are you two reading? I don't believe it! What is it you're reading anyway?" She snatched the red, leather bound book from Harry's hand and flipped to the front cover. "This says "private", it's a diary! You're reading some poor girl's diary?"
"Hermione," sighed Harry.
"How could you?" Hermione asked. "Whose diary is this anyway?"
"My mum's answered Harry.
Hermione flipped to the first page. "Oh," she said. "Well, Ginny wants to know if you'd aid her in a snowball fight."
"Sure," said Harry.
"Why not?" agreed Ron.
They left, once again abandoning the book.