Ginny Weasley's Diary

Friday, 30 October 1994

If I hear one more word about blasted foreign students from Bowedbatons Beauxbaton and Dumbstring Durmstrang I will scream. All anyone talks about anymore are the foreign students coming to Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament and it is a dead tiresome topic. Foreign types arrive tonight and I, for one, will not bother greeting them because I do not believe in wasting my time in foolish pursuits. While Madame Pince and remainder of school are occupied with greeting over-rated foreign students I will be engaged in a quest for knowledge, in library Restricted Section, educating and enlightening myself by looking up new swear words in the unabridged edition of The Big Book of $#@&.

But enough of the dratted Tournament, I am happy - I was invited to a Halloween party! I do not mean the Halloween feast, I mean a real party to be held someplace secret, and the location will only be revealed on the night of the party. And, the party is hosted by 6^th and 7^th year Slytherin students. If my mother knew I was to attend an illegal, Slytherin party she would shout $%$& and lock me in my room until I am thirty-years-old or old and grey, whichever comes first.

I got my invitation under dodgy circumstances but that is all part of the fun. It was Blaise who secured invitations for Lisa, Neville and me. Blaise said if Professor Snape found out Slytherin house were throwing a forbidden party, Snape would %$&# himself. Blaise used the word %$&# correctly; I remember that word from The Big Book of $#@&. I imagine Blaise read the book too.

Only last year Fred and George went a "secret" party and were quite smug about it. When I asked them what sort of things happened at the party they both burst into giggles. That reminded me of the time we caught Percy trying on Mum's knickers. Do not get the wrong idea; Percy assured us he was out of clean pants and he thought to borrow a pair of Mum's knickers. No one could blame him for not nicking pants from Ron or the twins - permanent skid marks are so off putting. It might seem strange that Percy not even trying to borrow Dad's pants but suffice to say Ron and the twins inherited their less tidy traits from someone. Perhaps it would be best if I drop the topic all together.

In future I intend to be what the twins call "the life of the party" which obviously means you must not be dead at parties. Happily if one does not count that ghastly time I had in the Chamber of Secrets, I have thirteen years experience at not being dead.

Everyone knows I am lively, in fact, only this morning Professor McGonagall often comments that I am too lively for my own good, whatever that means. See? I am meant to be a party girl.

At Hogwarts, Slytherin party invitations are devilishly tricky to come and only the best students are invited. By "best" I mean the most popular students, not the most studious students. Some day I hope to be both popular and studious though everyone says the two are mutually exclusive. I hope to prove them wrong.

Now, about my current party invitation, Blaise, who is a forth year got our invitations by doing a favour for a 6^th year Slytherin boy named Bole who fancies other boys as does Blaise. Curiously, when I asked Blaise what he did for Bole, Blaise came over all shy and said he had misplaced his scarf. Then Mr Zabini meandered off willy-nilly in the manner of Neville searching for his annoying toad Trevor. Here is what was strange - silly Blaise was wearing his scarf around his silly neck! I put it to you dear diary, how curious was that? I mean, Blaise has memory like nose-in-a-book-Hermione. Dear Blaise was clearly being evasive with me but why? He rather hurt my feelings. Add to the mystery that I noticed whenever Bole is nearby, Blaise's cheeks go pink. Have formulated theories on the puzzling situation but would rather not write down the alarming assumptions.

The party is to be a masquerade and Lisa, Neville, Blaise and I have begun to fret over what clever sort of costumes we might wear for the occasion. Then, this afternoon Lisa surprised us by saying costumes will not be a problem as she has worked on a clever little charm that will disguise us for the party. Lisa is eager to try out her new charm on the three of us. Blaise immediately opted out, announcing he is no one's guinea pig and Neville suddenly remembered some undone homework and has not been seen since. Honestly, Neville is far cleverer than one usually gives him credit for.

For myself I told Lisa I will be her guinea pig. Might as well - I have not one red Knut, or bronze Knut either for that matter, with which to purchase a costume for myself and I will not wear a home made costume which would be too humiliating. When I was quite young Mum rolled me in some treacle, then rolled me in some straw in the barn and sent me off to a Masquerade with instructions that I should tell everyone I was an albino coconut. I was laughed at for well into the New Year and clear on to Easter. No more home made costumes for me.

8.00 pm

Neville still missing.

Tonight the dratted foreign students finally arrived. What a great deal of fuss, bother and fanfare for a lot of foreigners arriving with smelly, flying alcoholic horses and a big drafty looking ship. Would have skived the whole affair but Ron threatened to send Pigwidgeon to rat me out to Mum if I did. As it turned out, I was glad I was there. For one thing, Ron made a fool of himself over a Veela just as he did last summer at the World Quidditch Cup. Ron is so v. childish. Honestly - you would think anyone with pale blond hair is the puppy's privates.

The best thing happened next, Malfoy looked at me or, well, nearly so, more or less, I mean, he had to look past me to see the oncoming Durmstrang boat. Anyway, was much fun to be had with me poking at Blaise and shouting, 'Malfoy fancies you Blaise!' And Blaise poking me right back and shouting 'No Ginny, it is you Malfoy fancies!' We two had a jolly time of it pretending to slap each other until grouchy old Professor McGonagall came over to scold Blaise and tweak my ear to make me stop giggling. McGonagall can be such a cow sometimes. I mean - she never treats me like the mature young lady that I am.

Sunday, 1 November 1994

I was excited all day yesterday waiting for night to fall so we could all go to the Slytherin Halloween Masquerade party. I ate quite a lot at the Halloween feast in the Great Hall but that was so I could pretend to be a picky eater at the party. When at a party, it is best for a witch to not eat like a hippogriff on holiday. That is because if you do, as a boy may then put two and two together and know it will be expensive should he wish take you out for tea. If you wish to be popular you must think of these things ahead of time.

After everyone went to bed, and I knew my dorm mates were finally asleep, I nicked down to dungeons and rendezvoused with Blaise, Lisa and Neville in an empty classroom. All three were in costume and all three - or rather four - costumes were dead brilliant.

Lisa wore an odd costume - disguised as some white-haired Muggle and looking every bit as comb-challenged as nearly-a-brother-Harry. I thought she was dressed as our headmaster, which would have been rude, but Lisa insisted she was some dead Muggle who was called Einstein. Obviously Einstein was a Muggle clown because surely someone that silly looking could never be taken seriously. I'll never know why Lisa chose do dress as some unknown dead Muggle when she could have been thoughtful and dress as something unusual, striking or novel, like a fairy princess, a ballerina or a fashion model.

Neville's costume was dead brilliant. He cast a couple of spells on himself- rendering his skin greenish-brown with warts up one side of himself and down the other. Considering Neville's skill with a wand, or rather his lack thereof, I put it to you, how brave was that? Neville was disguised as his toad Trevor! And even more cunning was plump little Trevor who was dressed as Neville in tiny black robes with an eensy weensy Gryffindor patch and black pointed hat!

Trevor was so adorable I would have stroked him but I make a point not to fondle amphibians. I am not prejudiced but amphibians are easily overly stimulated which causes them to pee on you which I find thoroughly unsanitary. Toad pee is why despite Mum's continuous nagging I refuse to try out for the Hogwarts choir. I have my standards. One cannot possibly be expected to sing in front of hundreds of one's fellow pupils with the possibility of being pee'd upon during the performance hangs in the balance. Oh, that and I have it on the best authority; my singing voice isn't much nicer than a toad's croaking.

But back to the costumes! Blaise kept his cloak shut but eventually we prodded and begged him so at last he opened his cloak to reveal a spot-on flattering costume composed of soft and shining black leather - rather skimpy - and lavender ostrich plumes with an emerald green mask for his bonnie blue eyes. I believe Blaise was portraying some sort of wild animal but when I asked him which animal he snapped "Grow up Ginny Weasley!" He rather hurt my feelings. I was quite into a pout when Lisa announced she was ready to cast her experimental charm on me.

I was dead nervous. We all of us shut our eyes, including, I fear, Lisa. I heard her mutter something quite long, and quite dodgy, in Latin, then WHAM! Through my shut eyelids I could see a blast of red light and all at once my skin felt as if it was being pulled like toffee in every direction at once. When at last I had nerve to open my eyes, there stood Lisa; her wand held high in the air. She looked excited and pleased. Neville and Blaise looked excited too, their eyes wide and their mouths hanging open, staring at me. It dawned on me I was looking down on the three of them, as if I was standing on a short stack of books.

I thought perhaps the spell had not worked because I could tell I was wearing my same scratchy old jumper. And my feet hurt! Without thinking about it, one at a time, I lifted my feet behind me and pulled off my shoes and socks. Doing so was more difficult than I would have imagined because I felt unbalanced, lopsided; heavier in the front than at my back.

Blaise, no surprise, was the first to speak. He said, 'I told you to grow up Ginny, but you did not have to take me at my word!'

As the words left his lips the waist band to my skirt popped open and its buttons shot off like rockets! One button hit poor wee Trevor who croaked aloud, leapt from Neville's hand and hopped under a desk. And do you know what? Neville did not go after Trevor. No, he stood there with the same stupid expression on his face - staring at me. I began to feel vaguely unsafe.

Then what happened next is etched in my mind's eye forever. Lisa took me by the shoulders and turned me to face the classroom window where a reflected image gleamed brightly. I shouted 'Mum!'

There in the window glass was the imagine of my Mum - only it was not Mum as she looks now, but Mum as she looked in a picture taken of her and Dad ages and ages and ages ago, just after their N.E.W.T.S exams.

Again, I called, 'Mum?'

Lisa, Neville and Blaise rude began to laugh at me.

'Mummy?' I called again and I realized that when I spoke, the mouth of the image in the window moved too - I realized that I was looking at me! The very grown up young woman in the mirror was not Mum - she was me!

I could not tear my eyes from my image in the window glass - neither could Neville or Blaise. I turned to look at the pair of them but they seemed incapable of looking me in the eye, seeming rather taken with looking me in the tits bosom... well, anyway, the both boys were red cheeked.

What a shock. I was the spitting imagine of my Mum when she was 17-years-old and I looked good! I was all together taller and rounder! I was as tall as Fred and George, I had a small waist, long legs and most startling were my usually near-to-non-existent breasts bosom. They were simply humongous! I felt rather proud and rather ashamed all at the same time. I wanted to hide, and yet, I wanted to show myself to the world. I was befuddled.

For ages I have worried that when I become a seventh year witch at Hogwarts instead of a bra I will have to wear a cotton vest in the manner of an ikle first year. That is one worry I need not bother myself with ever again.

Lisa took charge. 'Ginny - I have some borrowed clothing for you to wear. I took them from the Ravenclaw laundry and they ought to fit you well enough. Neville, Blaise, you boys wait outside while she changes.'

'I am like Ginny's dresser,' Blaise protested, 'I am not going anywhere, I am practically Ginny's sis... brother!'

Blaise is a good mate, isn't he? I agreed with his assessment but Lisa was not moved by his pleas and she shooed both boys out of the classroom.

'Now hurry Cinderella,' Lisa laughed, 'put on these clothes.'

Was still so shocked I did not explain to Lisa that Cinderella is a distant relative of mine, on Dad's side of the family.

As I changed my clothing I watched myself in the window. I was quite a sight with my scratchy jumper ended just above my bare belly. Can you imagine anyone going into public with their navel showing? For the first time in my life, my Weasley jumper had a job of work to do for I was near to busting out of it. The little cream coloured 'G' for 'Ginny' on my grey jumper was now stretched to the size of a melon! I didn't wonder that Neville had left the room with such a silly grin on his face.

Then something occurred to me. I said, 'Professor Dumbledore said only students seventeen years or older may enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament. Lisa, is that why you were eager to experiment with an aging charm?'

I know the twins, Harry and Ron are all very much wish to enter the Triwizard Tournament so they can have the honour of representing Hogwarts. They should be excited to know Lisa found a way to cheat the ban on underaged students.

'What of it?' said Lisa all proud of herself. 'If I can get this spell right, I can make a small fortune performing it on other students so they can enter the Triwizard Tournament.'

I was gob smacked! Have always known the Slytherin and Ravenclaw houses to be kissing cousins but still I never took Lisa for having any interest in wealth that I ever noticed. But there was little ponder time to ponder this novel thought about Lisa - we had a party to attend!

I dressed quickly. The new jumper vexed me, being a bit tight on the melons bosom and the grey skirt was a bit on the skimpy side but at least my stomach and the better part of my thighs were decently covered. The borrowed shoes were a bit large too but adequate and Lisa also got me the loan of a lovely cloak with a hood. My "transformation" from 13-year-old Gryffindor ugly duckling into 17-year-old Ravenclaw swan was complete.

'Hang on,' I said as Neville and Blaise came back into the classroom to resume starting at me. 'I look older now but everyone will think I am not wearing a costume at all! I still have no disguise,' I wailed.

'Ginny,' said Blaise and the cheeky boy winked at me. 'Trust me my darling, none of the lads at the party will know, notice or care if you are wearing a costume or not.'

'What do you think of our Ginny all grown up?' Lisa asked Neville.

'G-G-G-Ginny is r-r- rather... very... the g-g-girl is quite fit.' Neville actually stuttered and then dashed off to fish Trevor out from under the desk.

Blaise knelt and began straightening the hem of my skirt and as he did so he whispered. 'Do you know my darling; this may be the first time I was ever the slightest bit envious of straight boys.'

He was lying of course, but isn't Blaise the best mate ever?

Now we were all four of us ready for the masquerade and we headed off.

'Now I can reveal the party's location is to be in Professor Sprout's green houses,' Blaise announced and we were merrily off. As we climbed the dungeon stairs up to the main hall, we chatted about the party decorations, the aging charm which Lisa confessed she found in an old copy of Witch Weekly. That news very much alarmed Blaise and Neville. But Lisa said who cares where the spell came from, after all she was going to be as rich as it was a safe bet that dozens of underaged students would pay willing her to cast her clever charm on them.

'You know Ginny,' said Lisa. 'I have no idea how long the aging charm lasts on people. I tried the charm of a few kittens and on frogspawn. The spell lasted about an hour which ought to be enough time for entering one's name in the Tournament.'

'Oh no,' I shouted. 'I want to be at the party for longer than an hour!'

'Not to worry Miss Cinderella,' said Lisa, 'I will be at the party too and I can cast the spell upon you hourly as necessary.'

Soon we were out of the castle under a full moon, circling around towards the green houses. As I walked along, looking down at my companions I must say I felt rather silly. Rather like when I was quite small and Ron and I used to play "dress up" in Mum's clothes. Oops. Promised Ron I would never even mention him wearing Mum's things to anyone and not even mention it in my diary.

We walked as rapidly as we could and I was happy because I walked on such long legs I was faster than the others and I marvelled that I could scarcely see my borrowed shoes over my new gazungas bosoms. We made it as far as first greenhouse and then, as we rounded another corner - GAK!

'Children - where do you think you are going?' asked Professor Snape. He looked quite angry and I was horrified to spot Draco Malfoy, sniggering cruelly at the Professor's side. The pair of them were uncommonly pale in the moonlight.

Lisa, Neville and I gasped aloud in dismay. Blaise wasted no time - he had already pulled off his little emerald mask and he ran his fingers through his black curls and smiled pleasantly at Malfoy.

For myself I quickly became sidetracked by the fact that at my new height, Professor Snape seemed less foreboding than he usual. Then it occurred to me that Malfoy, who always seemed quite grown up to me, now seemed a small boy. I realized physically I now had three years on Malfoy.

'Who are you young lady?' the Professor asked me. He could not see much of my clothing because I was swaddled in the large cloak. 'Your face seems familiar but... no, I cannot place you...' As the Professor spoke he was staring at my dirty pillows bosom as if it might give him a clue to my identity.

Before I could open my mouth to answer, Lisa blurted, 'Professor, this girl is from Beauxbaton. She is lost sir and... and we... I mean she...'

Blaise jumped in to the fray, 'Professor, we ran across this young lady when we were leaving the feast... yes, and she told me she mean to find the girls toilets but she... got lost. Uh... and we were just escorting her back to the Beauxbaton delegation...'

All the time Blaise spoke his eyes were glued to Malfoy who glowered back at him.

'Is that so?' said the professor glaring at Lisa with her wild white hair and Neville who was all green and warty. 'And may I inquire why two of you wear disguises?' The professor ignored Blaise, who with his cloak closed appeared free of costuming, as did I.

'Uh... well Professor, sir,' stuttered Neville. 'The young lady... uh... wanted to learn about our customs and we thought we would show her how we would dress up if we were going to a Halloween masquerade party, which of course we are not going to a masquerade party, I mean, how could we? There are no parties out here near the green houses...' Neville shut his mouth tight - Lisa was mashing his foot with hers.

Professor Snape continued staring at me, or rather my baps bosoms and he questioned me in a slow and menacing voice, 'What is your name?'

It occurred to me that Professor Binns is dead and yet doesn't look near as haunted or pale as Professor Snape.

I was about to speak but again, again Blaise came to my rescue and spoke up.

'Professor -this girl is called "Ginevra" and she speaks no English, only La Français, comprenez-vous?'

'Yes, of course I understand,' the Professor snapped churlishly.

I was happy for a second but then, to my horror the professor directed a question at me - in French! His query was quite beyond what little French I understand, which was about a pen of my aunt being my uncle's desk or some such rot.

Now Lisa jumped into the verbal fray. 'Professor, this poor girl told Blaise she feels unwell. That is why she was looking for the girl's toilet - you see. May we continue escorting her back to the Beauxbaton...?'

'Silence Ms Turpin,' the Professor snarled in a dead nasty voice. 'You will do what I tell you to do! Now shut up, the lot of you standing here lying to my face, you must believe I am a fool! Ill indeed, this girl looks quite fit, I mean, quite well enough - you are all in serious trouble.'

The professor's voice frightened me to my very core, which was upset enough as it was, and then it happened - I lost it, all of it: a lovely chop, two chicken wings, half of a jacket potato, four mugs of pumpkin juice, a helping of julienne carrots, sliced beetroots, lovely mangetout, tasty circles of courgette in butter, a mountain of crisps, more than a few liquorice sticks, three pink and red jelly skulls, a toffee apple, a scoop of trifle and marvellous spotted dick! Yes, every speck of my dinner came up in a rush all over the Professor! Everyone jumped back!

The Professor proceeded shouting aloud, and I noted he used many of the words I had looked up in The Big Book of $#@&. I believe the professor must have reviewed the book for himself as he used each and every word in its correct usage. I was impressed I can tell you.

After my -untidy flood - everyone looked peaky. The Professor pulled his wand and hastily used an impressive vanishing spell that rid his cloak of the sick. A breeze wafted by and I can tell you we were all dead grateful for it.

'I suppose I can allow that you impudent brats were telling the truth about the girl being ill,' said Professor Snape to state the obvious. 'However I do not believe you dressed up for the young lady's cultural edification. I want you, Ms Turpin, Mr Longbottom, to return to your commons immediately. There will be ten points taken from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.'

'That is not fair!' shouted Lisa. 'Points off because we assisted a lost student who is a guest at Hogwarts?'

She was right, it hardly seemed fair, but that is Professor Snape for you.

Snape hissed, 'Silence Ms Turpin! You and Longbottom go back to your commons. In the morning your insolence will be reported to your house professors!'

Ooo, the Professor was so unfair I wished I could have been sick again just for the pleasure of decorating his shoes and maybe just a little because I fancied another taste of that excellent trifle.

The professor didn't have to ask twice; Lisa and Neville scarpered off back towards the castle as if they'd drunk two gallons of pumpkin juice each and were headed for the loo.

As soon as they were gone, the Professor gave Malfoy an order. 'Escort the young lady back to the Beauxbaton delegation. I still have a little affair to disrupt in the green houses. And you Mr Zabini, go to your dorm room at once. I have an illegal gathering of students to break up.'

'Professor Snape,' asked Blaise politely, 'as I speak French, might I assist Malfoy in escorting "La Mademoiselle Ginevera" home?'

It occurred to me the elegant sounding "La Mademoiselle Ginevera" was me! I had to fight to keep myself from smiling.

'Very well, Mr Zabini, you may assist Malfoy.' Oh, the professor wore a frightening scowl. I had no doubt but that when Professor Snape left made his way to the party in the green house, heads were going to roll like skulls when the Headless Horsemen play their ghostly croquet!

As soon as Professor Snape disappeared around the corner, I was surprised to hear Blaise snap at Malfoy, '

'Malfoy! Am I right in thinking you ratted out the sixth and seventh year students of you very own house to Professor Snape? How could you do such a dreadful thing?'

Poor Blaise sounded quite hurt but Malfoy seemed not in the least disturbed by Blaise's accurate accusation.

'Yes Zabini, what of it?' Malfoy spat nastily. 'I told the sixth and seventh years if they did not invite me to their "little" masquerade bash they would be sorry. They refused to invite me to their stinking party and now they will all pay for slighting me!'

Oh, I wanted to kick Malfoy in his firm bum and slap him until his pearly teeth chattered. But then again it was not Gryffindor sixth and seventh years he had betrayed so I held back. From my new height I thought Malfoy looked quite the disagreeable little brat.

Malfoy smirked, 'I mean really, how could they invite the likes of Longbottom to the masquerade, but not invite me? I am worth a dozen Longbottoms!'

'Really Malfoy?' sniffed Blaise in a haughty voice. 'I have heard it is the other way round.' Blaise took my hand and pulled me off towards the lake.

'Blaise,' I whispered, 'I have never been more proud of you.'

'You have now idea how close Malfoy came to finding himself covered over with tentacles and warts - he is a traitorous twit,' said Blaise, 'and believe me, I would have hexed him if only he were not so appealing by moonlight.'

I looked back to see Malfoy, his face all scrunched up angrily, following along behind us. Yes, even with his face all twisted into a grimace, no denying, his appeal was still spot on.

My darling mate Blaise - the more he changes, the more he stays the same. Mores the pity that although he was in no trouble of any sort, he was now solemn and quiet; I know he was of mixed feelings over Malfoy's nasty trick against the members of his own house. Blaise so loves Malfoy and I was sure his Slytherin heart was broken into tiny pieces.

I felt someone take my free hand, and I looked "down" and there was Malfoy smiling up at me, patting my hand and saying, 'There, there my dear, I'll soon have you safely back to your people.' He flicked his eyebrows at me and gave me the sort of look our cat at home has when he has spotted a particularly fat mouse out in the garden. I began to feel unsafe again. Honestly, it was creepy!

Then, I looked again to Blaise; he had already given up his gloom. He was smoothing back his black curls and grinned like a Cheshire cat and he was staring across my back over to Malfoy as if the blondie boy was a bowl of cream.

Dear Blaise. I might have known it would take a simple act of heinous treason to turn his feelings from Malfoy.

So on we tramped across along a path by the Hogwart's lake toward the Beauxbaton camp. Malfoy's face was right at the level of my shelf bosom and he was right jolly, chatting to me in English, not heeding or caring that he'd been told I only spoke French. On and on and on he bragged about his family and connections and how he might be inclined to have his parents take him to France over the summer if I were so included to invite him to visit me there.

And can you believe it? The little ferret pinched my bum! I must say, being pinched was not as quite the fun the older girls make it out to be, it hurts!

Blaise stood to my other side, his hand reaching behind me and trying to take Malfoy's hand - which was perched on the small of my back. Each time Blaise caught Malfoy's hand, Malfoy shook him off and swatted at him in annoyance. I believe Blaise preferred to think of Malfoy's swipes as a friendly game of slap and tickle.

How strange that the two boys made their two pairs of hands feel like twenty pairs!

But I had no time to marvel at the boys; my mind was set on escape. I was to be in a good deal of trouble if we made it all the way to the Beauxbaton quarters only to have Madame Maxine - a scary giant of a woman - declare that she was missing no student and that I must therefore be an imposter!

I am ashamed to write my dear diary, that during a moment of weakness I gave consideration to walking into the lake and allowing the giant squid to drown me. But then I remembered that vile Ron owes me two Sickles and I refused to die and give Ron the benefit of a reprieve on the loan. Then I thought, how would the twins behave if they found themselves in such dire straits? The answer came to me that quickly - why the twins would play dirty, that was what they would do!

Just then Malfoy politely stared at and addressed my left tit bosom, drawling, 'I do hope the Mademoiselle is warm enough in her cloak.'

I gave a quick glance to Blaise to let on I was about to try something. I stopped walking and I gasped as though frightened and I pointed across the lake. Malfoy stopped walking and stared into the inky darkness, his back to me.

Quick as a flash, I booted Malfoy in his arse sending him, arse over tits, ironically enough, into the cold lake water!

I must say, Malfoy screamed like a girl when he hit the cold lake water, not that I hung around listening to him. I turned tail and raced away as fast as I could, through the trees and towards the castle. Behind me I could hear Malfoy sputtering angrily as Blaise happily attempted to assist him out of the lake.

What fun that was! I must tell Hermione and perhaps we can start a club for those girls who have had a go at slapping or otherwise sending the albino ferret for a roll.

I've said before I can run as fast as any of my brothers and I was very nearly at the castle gates when suddenly I was positively swimming in cloth. My borrowed Ravenclaw clothes were all of a sudden too large; the skirt hanging at to my ankles and the jumper as long as a knit frock and I fell face down, smack onto the grass. The borrowed shoes were some twenty feet behind - I'd slipped out of them and hadn't even noticed. I was once again my usual, flat-bosomed, thirteen-year-old self.

As I climbed back onto my feet, I looked down and they were gone! It was not my feet that disappeared but my threepenny bits bosom that had retreated back to being nearly not there at all, as usual. I was so disappointed as I wanted a proper look at "them" in the mirror when I got back to my dorm room.

Just as with my distant relative Cinderella, the coach had shrunk back into a pumpkin - or more to the point, my lovely big ones bosom had shrunk back into an eensy pair of strawberry tinted Bertie Botts Beans. It was all d. sad but I know if I ever want a wizard's perspective on how my Charlies bosom will look in four years I can ask Neville or, if I lose my mind completely, I can ask Malfoy, because both of the lads had a good enough long stare at the girls my bosom.

It was all d. tragic but I took solace in knowing that someday "they" would be back and that I had something, no, some things, to look forward to and now know they shall be well worth the wait.

That was not the end.

I am lying here in an infirmary bed, on my stomach, writing in this diary. I shall explain how I got here and Lisa's plans for riches were ruined by a dodgy line of Latin in the charm she used on me. When the aging charm ended an unexpected side effect happened to me and as I had no choice but to go directly to Madame Pomfrey, I had to explain to her about the aging charm and humiliate myself by showing the dreadful side effects of the charm.

That meant that Lisa was called on the carpet and she was thoroughly rounded on by her normally mild mannered Head of House Professsor Flitwick. The professor was terribly displeased that Lisa had defied the Headmaster's ban on aging spells. Poor Lisa lost 15 points from Ravenclaw and drew a full week of detention, poor thing.

I forgive Lisa, after all, the aging charm allowed to me to know that I shall not, as I have always feared, find myself at seventeen years of age, still wearing a cotton vest. Still, Lisa tells me she feels dreadful and she stopped by the infirmary only a half hour ago for the umpteenth time today to apologize to me, yet again. Blaise and Neville accompanied her.

'I am so sorry Ginny,' said Lisa, weeping piteously. 'I did experiment casting the aging spell on kittens but you know how furry kittens are! I could not see the side effects on the kittens because of their fur,' she wailed. 'I understood the Latin for that dreadful aging charm; "...cast this spell to see what lies ahead and to see behind us...' How was I to know the Latin was meant to be taken literally!'

Easy for Lisa to say. It is I, not Lisa who is lying here on my stomach, waiting for Madame Pomfrey to come up with a magical cure for the pair of eyeballs that sprouted on my arse rump, blinking under my duvet covered bum cheeks backside!

If only I had listened to Blaise and not let myself be used for a guinea pig.

What good is "hind sight" to me now?