Ginny Weasley's Diary

Wednesday, 7 September 1994

Holed up in Library. Harry Potter is sitting across the way with my brother Ron and their mate, Hermione Granger. Harry is staring at me; staring at my diary.

Get over it Harry.

Anyway, it is a new school year at Hogwarts, and I am going to get my third year right. No more 'there goes big red' to be shouted out in the halls by cruel and unthinking boys as happened at the end of my second school year. Well, actually, to be truthful, 'there goes big red' was actually shouted out by annoying Peeves the poltergeist. And on second thought, Peeves might have actually yelled at Neville, who wore a red sweater and did look rather balloonish. That is neither here nor there for I never want to hear the 'there goes big red' comment again as long as I live. And if I do hear it, romping nearby there had better be an extraordinarily large Irish Setter dog.

I told my closest and dearest friends Lisa T., Blaise Z. and Neville L. that I wish to achieve a perfect school year at Hogwarts. To make my task easier, L, B & N volunteered to compile a list of areas where I can stand some improvement if I am to have a chance for a perfect school year.

Note: I chose the following 3 resolutions from the original list compiled for me by my so-called 'friends'. The list they presented me with contained 273 recommendations necessary for my self-improvement. Suppose I should be grateful for the miracle that I have any friends at all!

First and most important, I will become a scholar! Will follow in footsteps of older brothers: Bill, Charlie (more or less) and Headboy Percy the twit. I ought to mention that anyone would forgive my calling Percy a twit. What else do you call a boy who since the age of six insisted poor Mum iron and fold his skivvies? If Percy marries his sweetheart P.Clearwater - amazing enough, P stands for 'Penelope', not 'Pathetic' - I shall immediately conjure up and fill out ten greeting cards reading 'To Penelope - have happy recovery during your stay at St. Mungos'. I am certain filling out the cards now will save a great deal of time for me later.

Percy is only very strange as he contains the soul of an avaricious 125-year old, dwelling in his eighteen year old body. Brother Percy is besotted with rules and regulations. He works for the Ministry of Magic and simply adores his boring job. As long as am discussing Percy, here he is in a nutshell: were Percy to view my diary he would probably tell me that according to Ministry of Magic regulations, my diary entries ought to average between two and three thousand words, that I fall short of the mark and therefore ought to have my diary confiscated. Yes, Percy is that annoying.

I have a pet theory on brother Percy. Heavens forbid there come a time when we must all choose between the side of good and the side of evil. Percy will make his decision entirely based on the number of regulations per side.

Albus Dumbledore: "The side of goodness and light contains 187 regulations."

Lord Must-Not-Be-Named: "The side of evil, power, destruction and decapitation of newborn kittens contains 188 regulations."

Percy: "How may I serve thee oh Lord Must-Not-Be-Named?"

And where was I? Plans for my perfect year.

My second goal for third year is I will lose the fat that crept up on me over the summer. Cruel brother Fred teased me every time I donned my bathing costume- an unfortunate shade of red - to wade in the creek past the Burrow. The suit is a hand-me-down from my older cousin Honoria and she is a brunette. Contrary to common beliefs, non-redheads do occur in the Weasley clan from time to time, although normally we drown them. All summer long whenever Fred saw me approach in Honoria's swimsuit, Fred sang that annoying ancient rock muggle tune 'Red Rubber Ball'. Hate the theme. Hate the song. Hate Fred.

I shall endeavor to lose one stone, or if the fates favor me with severe illness, possibly two. I will do absolutely everything that is necessary to lose one stone, up to and nearly including watching every morsal I eat. The loss of one stone will fling me along on my next great goal for this school year.

My third goal is - A boyfriend! Yes, my third year shall be distinguished as the year that Ginny Weasley achieved a genuine relationship with a genuine wizard displaying following qualities:

1. Thoughtful towards his girlfriend - that would be me;

2. Studious and believes a good snog increases blood circulation, and is therefore a healthy and necessary activity for the brain development - and for naughty bits to get lovely healthy glow;

3. Cursed with such astounding good looks, all other Gryffindor girls will hate me to tiny little pieces;

4. A marvelous sense of humor. Fear accidentally finding myself with a Percy clone;

5. Despite astonishing good looks is modest, and will not hold his astounding good looks over my red head like sword of truth; and

7. Knows how to spend a Galleon.

Must emphasize I am not a 'Galleon niffler'. Just do not want the type of boyfriend who presents me with a single, hand picked daisy, tells me the flaming flower reminds him of my beauty, when in reality flaming git is only dead cheap. Rather like brother Percy. Note to self: make up 15 additional greeting cards for unfortunate P. Clearwater.

Occurs to me, I ought to have other goals as well, so I may be a well-rounded girl in ways other than the shape of arse. I ought to 'help others', as in tutoring ikle first years, or perhaps assist dear Madame Pomfrey in hospital wing. More's the pity current goals of becoming thin scholarly babe with genuine boyfriend will take up much of my time as it is. Note to self; become well rounded next year.

I read my list for self-improvement to Blaise, my best Slytherin friend. My only Slytherin friend. Blaise analyzed my list of goals for perfect school year and came up with following training schedule. I copied his list of 'suggestions' below:

1. Give up chips, which are in reality only a convenient way to convey fat to one's arse. If we were meant to stuff ourselves with high carbohydrate, high fat foodstuffs, we would wear numbered collars around our neck and be milked twice a day by house elves with warm hands.

2. Give up sweetened, artificial colouring filled, non-nutritive fizzy drinks although no doubt the food colouring accounts for characteristic Weasley hair colouring.

3. Walk around castle perimeter twice a day: walk. Understand the concept luv? Walk? Use those two long things that end in flat flappy things. You know. Feet?

4. When items 1 through 3 are adhered to, boyfriend issue will take care of itself. Trust Me.

5. Do homework, at least once in a while. Occupies your mind. Amuses the professors.

I am grateful for dear Blaise's input and supportive recommendations to me. What a heaven sent friend he is. Following are my thoughts on Blaise's most kind and thoughtful suggestions.

Blaise - Give up chips.

Me - As if. I mean really, if one doesn't eat chips, what else is there after the meat course for heaven's sakes? Vegetables? Please!

Blaise - Give up sweetened, artificial colouring filled, non-nutritive fizzy drinks.

Me - Did I not read human body is 98% liquid? Well, HELLO? If one ceases to drink fizzy drinks, what does that leave - water? Pardon me, but do not fish and otters urinate in water? I mean really. One has to take hygiene into account, doesn't one?

Note to self: After write up greeting cards for Penelope, write up 15 cards for Blaize, apparently also on the road to St. Mungos.

Blaise - Walk the castle perimeter.

Me - Then may I ask, by Merlyn's great golden goolies, why were broomsticks invented?

Well, perhaps, walking isn't too horrid an idea. Absolutely will walk castle perimeter, after acquiring a boyfriend to walk with; lovely, generous lad who will clasp my dainty hand engaging me in romantic walks around the castle, while taking care to make frequent stops so we may snog, develop our brains and otherwise debauch until hippogriffs come home.

Blaise - Homework.

Me - At last, a sound suggestion from Mr. Blaise 'knows-my-life-better-than-I' Zabini! Time permitting, I shall do my homework. At least every so often. As Blaise stated, it does amuse the professors. McGonagall has been known to take one look at my homework parchment and burst into gales of laughter. I suppose that says something impressive about my schoolwork, although I am not quite sure what.

Dearest Blaise has shown up, with dear friend Lisa Turpin with goal to frog walk me around castle perimeter for 'my own good'. Feel pressing desire to question need for friends in first place. Both B & L attempting to pry quill & diary from