It had been ages since the makers of the Journal had seen some new secrets. At long last, the Journal of Truth found its way back to its masters. They ducked low and poured over the new entries…

The Journal of Truth

Welcome all who enter. Please state your name, and divulge your utmost secrets.

Gilderoy Lockhart

I hate people. All people. I'm sure my winning smile and flawless people skills make that hard to believe, but I assure you, it is the truth.

In fact, my hatred of people is what made me who I am today. After finishing school I vowed to never work an honest day in my life. My reasons for this were simple. If I didn't have to work, I'd never have to deal with people—not in the usual sense, anyway. Today the only people I need to face are witches and wizards who are infatuated with me, and that's really not difficult at all now is it?

So of course, I devised a simple, but brilliant plan. I've spent my professional career simply stealing credit for the work of other witches and wizards. Quite magical isn't it? I guess that's where my editors got the name for my latest published masterpiece—Magical Me.

These have been amongst the worst months of my life—being a Professor at Hogwarts. I hate kids even more than I hate adults. Although… these young girls are quite adept at spotting what a talent I am. I received a total of 36 letters from young admirers since I've been here.

Perhaps there is hope for the human race after all.

Colin Creevey

I don't know who Harry Potter is.

Well, that's not entirely true. I've taken enough pictures of the bloke. I know his name… I know he's famous… but I don't really know why.

My parents are Muggle born, so they didn't know the story of Harry Potter and You-Know-Who. When we all learned I was a wizard they screened a lot of the information I was going to be exposed to at school. When they heard about Harry, they thought the real story was too scary. I got the watered-down version.

My friends think it's funny, so no one's told me what really happened.

I know it has something to do with the Dark Lord disappearing… but aside from that, he's just a skinny boy with a funny scar on his head.

For all I know, Harry Potter did a dance so offensive that You-Know-Who vowed never to be seen again.

I've really got to track him down and get some answers… maybe some autographs to go with some pictures, too!

Hey, there he is now…

Marcus Flint

Professor McGonagall is beautiful.

I've never said that to anyone before, but I'm saying it now. She is beautiful.

I'm sure not many would agree. Minerva McGonagall is an old bird and not a very nice one at that. She's grouchy, especially with us Slytherins—and especially us Slytherin Quidditch players. But that doesn't matter. She's so strong. So stern. She knows exactly how to take care of herself.

I can't focus in Transfiguration class because of her… although, I can't really focus in any of my classes. I'm failing almost everything. I almost wish I was in Gryffindor house so she could scold me about my grades instead of Snape. I don't think anyone could ever call him beautiful. I wouldn't mind listening to McGonagall talk about what a useless lump I am. She has the most beautiful voice.

So why McGonagall? I've asked myself before. I guess it's the strength in which she carries herself. She doesn't take crap from anyone.

Oh… Minerva.

Power is so sexy.

Argus Filch

I try not to let the faculty know this, but I adore children! If they found out, they wouldn't let me punish them anymore. I'm too easy on them. Cleaning bedpans, polishing trophies, going into the Forbidden Forest—all easy, pleasant work I have them do because I can't bear to see them miserable.

Of course, the students like to make a game of it. They pretend the work is horrible, and I go along with it. The way they complain and moan… you'd think they downright despise me! But that can't be right…

Cleaning out bedpans is fun…


But it must be! Some of them act out so often it would be absurd to think they're not enjoying themselves. Those Weasley twin pranksters have had more detentions than I can count, so there can't be another explanation. They must enjoy spending time with me.

Mustn't they?

Sure, they scowl at me and I yell at them, but that doesn't mean we're not friends?


I'm going to find Mrs. Norris.