Ginny Weasley's Diary

Friday, 16 September 1994

Woke this morning in lovely high spirits. I rose from my four-poster, bright, cheerful, full of joy. Took lovely long shower thinking about wizard of my dreams, who this week is 'himself' - Seamus Finnegan. Long lazy shower had added advantage of requiring skiving breakfast, thus lowering caloric intake for the day, thus becoming more the fit love goddess intend to be by year's end. More wonderful, not going into Great Hall meant missed field marshal Blaise Zabini and henchwitch Lisa Turin, still nabbing myself and Neville for exercises by dawn's early light at the first finch's fart. Took my time strolling back to dorm room, all wrapped in dressing gown with hot towel on hair. Stopped to admire self in mirror.

Funny how some days all things wonderful just fall upon you from the heavens, for a short while anyway. Then the windows fall out of your dream house. There are things you never expect will happen to you. Tragedy is for others, less fortunate than one's self. You innocently believe life is all goodness and light and that you are safe from hardship and despair. And then, one bright morning, this morning for me, there it was, poised at the end of my steady little chin - a zit - size and color of tomato flavored Bertie Botts Bean! Why oh why should such a thing happen to me? What am I being punished for? Don't I leave cookies out for blasted little kickable house elves? Do I not use Sorceresses' Silkicharms Skin Salve twice a day? Where, oh where did I go wrong in my sensible daily skin cleansing system? What wickedness am I being tortured for now?

Here I am, a full day of classes ahead of me and no excuse I can think of for keeping the hood of my robes pulled over my face. How can I face peer group with horrid zit red color and size of Neville's remembrall on chin?

Decided skive classes today. How can anyone expect me to attend classes? Who can tend to a lesson while there I sit, balancing zit the size and color of Quaffle! Am too depressed, so lie in four-poster duvet pulled over my head, my wand providing light, writing. Have already informed dorm mates I have 'the curse'. Oh lovely, un-investigatable curse! Short of checking knickers, is difficult for anyone to tell if yours truly has actually taken up residence in the moon hut... a place of horror for werewolves, and joy for witches seeking to skip Hooch's flying class. Mum says I am running 'slow', having not yet been to yee olde moon hut even once. Anxious to start 'the curse', during which I shall lie in bed, eat licorice wands and be very grown up!

10.00 AM

Stupid, stupid Prefect! Never minds her own business. Thinks she is so important because she is a 6^th year, and a Prefect and has a boyfriend. Self-important Prefect came to dorm room after breakfast hour, to 'inquire' after my health as if she cares!

Prefect - So, Weasley I'm told you are under the weather today?

Me (peeking weakly from under duvet) - Is someone speaking? Oh... it's you. Yes. I'm hanging (heavy sigh) in.

Prefect -What's wrong?

Me (whispering conspiratorially) I have 'the curse' and (drum roll) Cramps!

Prefect - Poor thing (said with not one whit of sympathy!).

Me (the one with the BIG mouth) - I feel wretched. My legs muscles ache!

Prefect - Beg your Pardon? Your legs? Your legs hurt?

Me - Yes. My legs. The things my feet are attached to. My legs are cramped up.

Prefect - Hum... cramps? Legs? So, it is not your stomach or back that ache then?

Me - (cottoning on) Well, come to think on it, maybe my stomach or back do ache. Yes, can feel it now. I am so sick I only thought my legs were aching. Yes! My stomach or back do... ah... does ache! (Great Godric's Gob, when will I learn to shut up!)

Prefect - Weasley. Are you aware this is the forth time this month you've been stricken with 'the curse'?

Me - Is that bad? Is that very bad?

Prefect - Don't worry dear. If there is something the matter with you, at the very least we can rule out pregnancy.

Fear I have cried wolf, or rather, have cried 'the curse' too often. And how was I to know that 'cramps' as twin brothers get from practicing Quidditch for hours on end, are different from the kind of cramps one gets from 'the curse'? And why don't people tell you these things?

Stupidly assuming Prefect possessed a heart, I came clean and showed her my shiny new zit, red and size of China. But smug, shrew Prefect told me size and colour of zit is only figment of my imagination. As if! Zit is large enough to be required to pay tuition when I take it to class with me against my will. Family cannot afford to pay for education of three wizards, one witch and a zit.

Kicked up a fuss, told evil Prefect I refuse to go to classes. I have some pride, and will NOT parade around school with evil zit. Shrew Prefect generously offered to recommend to Professor McGonagall that I receive so much detention, that neither zit nor myself will see light of day until seventh year at Hogwarts. Persnickety Prefect!

Rose from comfy four-poster, pulled on my buttercup yellow polo neck and went to first class of the day - Potions. Hate Potions, reasons near too numerous to mention: have to attend potions with Slytherin students, Professor Snape is a snarky anemic git with hair care challenges, dungeons are colder than my poor witch's you-know-whats. You would think the cold would be reason enough for me to be allowed to wear polo neck up to my nose in Potions class, but no! Snape said with my polo neck up to my nose he was afraid others would mistake me for a Pacific coast banana slug, chop me up and add me to their cauldrons.

I would bet a sackful of Galleons evil Snape is a vampire, like the ones in Romania where brother Charlie works. The last time I saw Charlie, told him my theory on Snape. All right, Snape is possibly not a vampire. P. Snape certainly looks like a vampire; all pale with clothing inspired by flying rats with talented tailors. But on the other hand, I am sure vampires that haven't seen the light of day in one hundred years have darker complexions than Snape. Brother Ron has told me several times that Snape shamelessly favors evil Malfoy. Is no wonder to me as those two Slytherin are cut from the same bolt of evil, snarky white cloth. Am tempted to bait dungeons with mugs of nice warm blood and see if Snape - or albino Malfoy - suck any down. Am certain the only difference between Snape and a vampire is vampires have much better temperaments.

Evil Professor Snape stared at my chin all class, and finally inquired if someone struck me with the Furnunculus curse. The entire class laughed at me, especially evil, evil Slytherin students. Had trauma of cruel classmates throwing spitballs at me for the remainder of Potions class, as if in not already in agony over zit. Evil P. Snape took five points from Gryffindor house, as if I requested creepy Slytherin students to fling spitballs at me. I so hate P. Snape. I will avenge myself on Snape if it is the last thing I ever do. Will absolutely put cups of blood in dungeons... warm blood spiked with maximum strength purgatives! Will have added entertainment value of being able to see if Snape is capable of growing paler than he already is.

1.25 pm

Will this evil, horrid day ever end? Am sitting in Professor Trelawney's Divination class, the second most boring class at Hogwarts after Professor Binns' History of Magic, which would be more correctly titled, 'Advanced Snoring'. Trelawney's class is a trial to me. Either one believes in divination or one does not, and can hardly believe how unfair it is to force non-believers like me to take class in first place. Divination is a waste of time, as can learn more from taking classes such as: 'Fair Play' taught by Draco Malfoy or 'Breaking All the Rules' taught by brother Percy. Only saving grace of Professor Trelawney's class is she at least provides a lovely tea.

Oh cruel fates! As always, I seated myself at a window in Trelawney's hot attic classroom. There, with polo neck up, could avoid anyone seeing zit, which is now ripening on my chin like dead cow left on side of road at height of summer. Professor Trelawney must be as cold blooded as a snake, as keeps classroom hot enough to incubate dragon eggs. Thought would be able to open a window to let in air for breathing, and even possibly avoid death by broiling. But no such luck. Trelawney broke us into groups of threes and fours so we could read each other's tealeaves. Trelawney ordered me to partner up with a table full of the most evil Gryffindor girls of my year. Obediently seated myself with Gryffindor witches, buried nose in diary hoping they would spend so much time gossiping they would not notice yours truly. No such luck.

Why do adults refuse to believe there exist evil students who are not in Slytherin house? So many people believe all Slytherin are evil. Not true. One need only know my dear friend Blaise Zabini, to put the stereotypic views of Slytherins to rest. I am not saying the sorting hat blew its brim and mis-sorted Blaise, nor do I mean Blaise isn't ambitious! Blaise is a true Slytherin, so aflame with ambition and gaining his own ends, that he makes wicked Malfoy seem kindly and bland. It is not ruling the wizard world that makes Blaise's pale blue eyes gleam with avaricious! My dear boy Blaise burns with ambition to rule the world of fashion, preferably from Milan. Whenever Blaise's ambitions are brought up, Blaise is likely to twirl his imaginary mustache and chortle, 'Muwah ha, ha, ha, and whatever possessed you to think the cut of that jacket works well with your bum Luv?' Blaise can be brutal in his honesty, but it is all for your own good and his own amusement. Mark my word, Blaise will achieve his goals!

Need I mention I gave that jacket away?

The three girls Trelawney forced me to sit with are notably evil and notably Gryffindor!

Must point out, I do not call those Gryffindor girls evil just because they do not fancy me. I don't require admiration, am happy in my own company thank you very much. Three girls are evil because enjoy persecuting yours truly based solely on rumours. They make no attempt to find real truth by speaking to me. I have approached them many times, but yours truly is always politely rebuffed. They believe every mean spirited thing they have heard word of about my Chamber of Secrets year; that I was a willing, indeed eager participant. As if anyone could enjoy waking mornings with shed basilisk skin stuck to the heel of her bedroom slippers like a strip of toilet tissue!

4.15 pm

Out of the cauldron, into the fire. Am wretched and sitting with dear friends Lisa and Neville on steps outside of Great Hall. Any wonder I so love my friends? Always here for me when I need shoulders to cry on, and I have cried buckets since Tralawney's class earlier today. Only shoulder not available is that of Blaise, but I cannot be selfish enough to keep him away from Slytherin Quidditch practice. Blaise is not on the team actually. He just loves to watch evil Malfoy racing around in silk training shorts, as do I. No wonder Blaise and I are such good friends, so d. much in common. Anyway, tears are only unfortunate side effect of Trelawney's class and presence of evil Gryffindor girls. One Gryffindor girl gave me a haughty look and staring at my chin, with her own zit-free chin high in air, said "Ginny, have you heard from your boyfriend Tom lately?"

Wicked girl meant Tom Riddle of course. They all sniggered in cruel manner.

"No," said I in innocent fashion, plain as you please, "I was dating Tom."

They all looked scandalized, as if ready to scarper off to headmaster Dumbledore, and arrange for me to be dragged off by dementors to Azkaban.

Said I, "But Tom broke it off with me, when he started shagging your mother!"

That shut them up sharpish.

That was all right and isn't why am crying. After Trelawney's class, I practically skipped down the stairs d. smug and self satisfied, headed straight back for dorms. Planned to apply heavy application of 'Bethelda's Bewitched Balm', which I forgot about this morning when my chin was defaced by beastly zit the size and color of Mars.

So racing along I darted down the four hundred thousand steps from Trelawney's room, and turned a corner at the bottom of the last stairwell. Who came from other direction? Seamus Finnegan, and his eyes focused right in on humongous zit on my chin!

All dreams of Seamus clasping my dainty hand, escorting me to Hogsmeade were dashed to tiny bits. In one fell swoop, gone were delightful dreams of Gryffindor girls wild with jealousy, over attractive and funny Irish wizard fawning over Miss Ginny Weasley. On the spot, all dreams of witches flinging selves off North Tower like robed lemmings in fits of wild envy over my charmed life, evaporated. If only zit would take hint and evaporate too.

I was so humiliated and felt quite strange. Escaped to girl's toilet and what did I discover? I got 'the curse', the genuine article, the whole monty! And, my luck, 'the curse' as accompanied with what must be genuine cramps, which is, I discover, no laughing matter! Feel wretched. Honestly! Only a truly sad, sick and sorry witch could make a joke of cramps!