Ginny Weasley's Diary

Thursday, 2 November 1994

Ginny says I must be sure to write this is me Neville Longbottom writing here because Ginny says my handwriting is rubbish; like someone dipped Trevor, my toad, in ink and turned him loose on a bit of parchment (Ginny exaggerates. Gran says my handwriting is lovely and anyway I would never let anyone put Trevor into a bottle of ink; Trevor has allergies).

Ginny says if I cannot treat her like the young lady of proper upbringing and delicate sensibilities and stop saying things like 'buttocks' in her presence then I can "bloody well F-off". So I just told Ginny that my Gran says "buttocks" is a proper enough word to use if a gentleman is careful how he uses it (Gran meant how a gentleman uses the word, not how a gentlemen uses his buttocks which my Uncle Algie says is a gentleman's own business).

Ginny says to write that Madame Pomfrey ordered her to stay in bed, on her stomach so her eyes can 'have a rest'. Ginny says to write that the eyes on her face are open all day long and do not grow tired so why should the eyes on her buttocks bum be any different?

Ok, now Ginny says I must write Lisa Turpin cast the dodgy aging charm on her two nights ago on Halloween. The charm worked jolly well enough except for the extra eyes that then appeared on Ginny's bum as the charm ended - unfortunate side effect "behind" effect.

Oh, and Ginny says she would not say 'no' to Lisa if Lisa wished to pay Ginny 1 or 2 Galleons as financial compensation for pain and suffering (I don't think Ginny is in pain and she can't be suffering much, lying about on soft pillows and all). Ginny is now ordering me to read aloud everything I wrote here.

Ginny bunged her bedpan at me.

Ginny says if I write "Ginny says" once more she will hex me into next week. Ginny says for me to put her (very bad word here) diary down and get the (very, very bad word here) out of her sight. Ginny says I am daft because I refuse to call her (bad word that begins with an "A" and means "buttocks") by its proper name.

I know now it was a bad idea for Ginny to read The Big Book of $#@& . She sounds like my Uncle Algie after he's got back from a piss up (pardon me) down at the pub. And Ginny says if I can't write (foul word) in her own (dead nasty word here) diary then I am wasting her time. Now Ginny says I must get the (Oh! I can't believe she said that!) out of the infirmary.

Your mate,

Neville Longbottom

Thursday

Ginny! Nice to see you. I mean, nice to see the bits of you we are allowed to see. Would be willing to part with a few coins for a look-see. Just thought you ought to know. No pressure. Just a thought.

Your schoolmate,

Seamus F.

Still Thursday, 1050 AM

Poor Ginny's accident is entirely my fault. If I had not fooled with that aging charm, poor Ginny would not be [diary stained with tears and blotted ink] will never meddle with charms or spells from that filthy magazine ever again!

Sorrowfully,

Lisa Turpin

1055 AM

At last Lisa's boo-hoo fest is ended and I may introduce myself though most will recognize my beautiful writing hand. For the record this is I, Blaise Zabini. My quill hand has taken many prizes. There are bits and bobs of me that are far more excellent than my handwriting but modesty prevents me from extolling on my numerous pureblood and Slytherin superiorities.

Lisa is so full of herself. She's thoroughly soaked this diary with her tears. Had Lisa listened to me, Ginny would this minute be off skiving lessons with only one pair of eyes. I warned Lisa she ought not to meddle with ropey charms - especially those lifted from the back pages of an old Witch Weekly Magazine - I mean really!

I do not like to brag but my Stepfather Jangleon was founder and owner of the Witch's Weekly publication. Not every one is privy to that titbit of information. Sad truth is, my stepfather (he was four five step fathers ago) never took the trouble to check the charms and spells he printed in his publication.

My dear former stepfather. I'll never forget how when I was a tender youth of but six years when Mother tearfully took me onto her knee and told me she had just returned from mountain hiking in Germany with my Stepfather. They had stopped for a short rest by a mountain brook and fell asleep. When Mama woke my Stepfather's head was resting on her lap. Unfortunately, my stepfather's body was scattered in tiny bits up and down the mountainside. There was a lot of nasty business following that ill-fated incident but I am happy to report the court sided with Mama's version. Several nasty sorts insisted there are no giants in Germany. But happily, while my poor Mama had no sodding luck at all with her husbands, she has marvellous luck with her legal solicitors.

Suffice to say I have no confidence in the Witch's Weekly, either when my stepfather ran the paper or now that Mother's brother Mordred runs the publication. No offence to my Uncle Mordred, but I would not use a coupon for Gilderoy's Hair Tonic from that rag, let alone an aging charm.

Oh! Dear Ginny has opened her eyes and she is cranky as a infant; bunged a chocolate frog at her. That shut her up! The girl is as quiet as a dear little mouse when she has a mouth full of sweets. Oh, now my little ginger mate laughs! I hope she enjoys her current novelty as the only student in Hogwarts who can both sit her arse on the Quibbler and read it at the same time!

Well, I have a lesson to go to and I believe I have written enough to keep Ms Weasley content for now. Good Bye little Diary! Don't suck out Ginny's brain, drag her into the bowels of the dungeons or tempt her into decapitating any chickens - at least not until I return.

Ginny, I am your adoring mate always,

Blaise

1225 PM

I just came down to say hello. Sorry about your accident. Is it true you are selling looks at your bum for 5 Knuts or was Seamus just taking the mickey? Parvati P.

2/11/94 - 1230

Get well soon. Seamus was lying, wasn't he?

Lavender B.

Still Thursday, the 2^nd

You've done it this time Gin! You know I could tell Dad & Mum but if you show me the eyeballs on your bum, then this little incident will be our little secret. On the other hand, if Madame Pomfrey already owled Dad & Mum then get ready for your first Howler.

I'm just winding you up Ginny! Dad & Mum can hardly kick your arse now can they? You'd go blind. HA, HA, HA!

I came down to have chat but you were having a nap so I reckon I'll just sign your diary which seems to be the fashion today. When you wake up I expect to be shown your extra eyeballs. Remember, when w were little we took bathes together. I ought to be able to have a peek at my own sister's bum. Bloody hell, what am I writing? I'll wind up in St Mungos. Never mind.

Must go kick the shite out of Seamus. Have to run! Ha ha!

Your loving brother,

Ron

1345 PM

I took a picture of your new eyes while you were asleep Ginny. Can't wait to show it to everyone!

Bottoms up,

Colin Creevey

1348 PM

WOW!

Dennis Creevey

1715 pm

Sorry about your mysterious accident Ginny. I asked Neville what happened to you he went a bit funny - giggling.

Sincerely yours,

Dean T.

Thursday, 2 November 1994 -1722 pm

I, Hermione Granger, wish to go on record as thoroughly disapproving of the illegal underage magic used by Lisa Turpin on Ginny Weasley and wish to emphasize that because I am writing in Ginny's diary does not mean I approve the wrongdoing. Use of dubious spells by anyone is very wrong indeed.

Nevertheless Ginny, I do not wish you to suffer. I know how concerned you must be at the thought of missing out on all your homework and rest assured I shall bring it too you so you do not fall behind in your lessons. No need to thank me. It is the least I can do.

I am sorry you were asleep during my visit. I wanted to ask you about some pictures Colin Creevey is showing off around the Commons.

Get well soon,

Hermione J. Granger

1740 pm

Hope you feel better soon Ginny. I wish I had time to wait for you to wake up. Would love the details of how you spent Halloween night. Mine was rubbish.

Did you anyone tell you? I am a Triwizard Tournament Champion. Hogwarts has two champions now; Cedrick Diggory and me. I don't know quite how that happened because despite what your three thick brothers think, I did not enter the competition! Honestly, rather than Hogwarts Champion I'd rather have spare eyeballs on my arse.

Always respectfully yours,

Harry P.

Somemat like 8 in the evening PM

Get well quiwk like.

Youяs, Hagrid

2012 pm

I see I'm not the first to write in Ginny's diary today. I begged her to let me have a peek at her new eyes but she went all pink and now she won't come out from under her bedclothes. Now she is making loud snoring noise, pretending to be asleep.

Ginny did you know Colin Creevey, that twit, has a photo of your - backside? Creevey allows anyone a peek who has the price of two Sickles. Ginny, just say the word and I'll beat the crap out of Creevey for you! And there'll be no mincing about with wands - I'll use my fists. Just say the word and Creevey last photograph will be at his own funeral!

Cheers to you Red,

Michael Corner

2120 pm

Just now Ginny and Hermione are rowing over Ginny's homework. I am staying well clear of it.

Hermione and I came here to the infirmary again, this time under my Dad's invisibility cloak. I only came because I know what it feels like to be bored and lonely in the infirmary; bloody infirmary is nearly my second home. As soon as Ginny saw us she began yelling like Moaning Myrtle when a strange boy wanders into her loo. Ginny is stroppy because Hermione brought her homework to her.

At last - Hermione put Ginny's homework assignments out into the corridor. That shut Ginny up straightaway. Maybe now my headache will go away.

Hermione just told Ginny that we didn't bring Ron with us because he is being thick and refuses to speak to me, much less go anywhere with me.

Oh no. Hermione just told Ginny that Colon Creevey is selling peeks at her arse backside? I wonder why Ginny let Creevey take a daft picture like that? Ginny, should I look into it for you? I don't mean look into the photo, I mean look into whatever Colin is up to? No worries. I'll stop Creevey in his tracks before your brothers murder him and the whole lot of them end up in Azkaban. I'll get that photo from Creevey for you. That'll be a piece of cake compared to rescuing you from that big-arse Basilisk.

Ginny and Hermione are arguing again. They are yelling over the homework again. They sound like a pair of hellhounds fighting over a dead knarl. Merlyn, girls are scary creatures.

Always respectfully yours,

Harry P.

P.S. Who the feck is Michael Corner?

2028 pm

My dear Miss Weasley, I was disappointed that you were asleep when I stopped by for a visit. However I took the liberty of reading your little diary entries from today and I see you have several young gentlemen willing to defend your honour in the matter of a photo taken by Mr Creevey. Alas, I have interfered before your shining knights could come to your aid, as I have already confiscated the photograph of your assets.

You may be aware that Mr Creevey allowed other students to view the photograph for his own profit. I also took the liberty of passing along Mr Creevey's ill gotten gain to Professor McGonagall to hold for you. The professor did not think either you or Mr Creevey should benefit from "that sort of nonsense" but as for myself, I am all in favour of entrepreneurial enterprises - however daring they may be.

I can hold the photo for you if you wish, or I shall destroy it at your bidding. The photo is locked safely away in my office. Earlier today I was told by reliable sources that Mr Creevey made a fair bit of brass showing the photo around the Great Hall at a Sickle for a look. The enterprising Mr Creevey earned 1 Galleon, 20 Sickles and 17 Knuts - not bad considering a little bird told me the starting price was only a Knut a peek. You'll pardon my saying so Miss Weasley, but your little bottom was quite a large commodity! I beg you to not be embarrassed about this photograph business Miss Weasely, for the photo was quite artistic and it did you credit - in the end (I trust you will pardon the little pun).

A final word to the wise Miss Weasley - listen to Miss Granger and do your homework!

Your humble servant,

A. Dumbledore, Headmaster

3.14 am

It's the dead of night, right? And me and George here, we snuck out the dorm, drag our matching, pyjama accessorized arses down here to the infirmary to visit the baby sister and what reward do we get? The brat whines and cries, 'Oh, I'm soooo lonely all alone here in the infirmary! I'm tired of lying on my tummy! It's too dark under the duvet and my arse can't see properly!' How often do you hear THAT for a complaint, eh?

And the brat whinges on, 'Did you bring me a present Fred, George? Why don't you write in my diary?'

Bloody hell! What is it with Ginny and diaries? Sign her bleeding diary? Miss 'Thinks-She's-the-Queen-of-Hogwarts', Blimey! We ought to have locked our baby bint in that pyramid with Percy two summers ago when we had the chance.

I'm writing all this for you Ginny - to smarten you up. You know me and George love you, you ginger twa... you brat. As soon as we got down here, didn't we bung you a few liver, ear wax and spinach Every Flavour Beans? And all you did was fuss about all the pyjama lint on them -ungrateful brat! We're risking detention just being here, taking the time to stop here on our way to pick up a late night snack from the house-elves. Well then, that's love enough ain't it?

Spoiled little pullet you are Gin. I swear on Merlyn's - uh... stuff - from the minute Mum dropped your baby arse - bloody cord and all, on the upstairs bedroom carpet like a ewe popping off another spring lamb, me and George loved you something fierce. Yes Gin, we've told you a million times and it is Merlyn's truth - George and I were standing there when you fell out of Mum while she was doing the dusting you were born. Me and George saw bits of Mum that left us scarred for life. After I saw you being born I thought I'd been put off girls all together until Angelina came along but you're too young for that story Gin. Come ask me about it when you're seventy-five; maybe a bit older.

Don't mind telling you Gin; Mum and Dad spoiled you when you were a sprog. First they unlike me and George here, they fed you regular like. And when you were very little, me and George weren't even allowed to hold you - our own baby sister!

'Here,' we used to say to Mum. 'Why can't we play with baby Ginny?' You'd have thought Mum would have been jolly glad we took to you Gin, specially since when Ron was a baby we had a go at tossing him to Mum's pigs. But we changed our mind and pulled him out - Mum was dead keen on the pigs and Ron was sure to make them ill, Ron being mostly gristle.

Sometimes Gin, one of us would get hold of you and Mum would shout, 'Bloody hell George, your sister is not a Bludger! Put that bat down and put Ginny down or I'll skin you alive!'

My turn to write not Gin, this is George writing now. I know what you're thinking - 'How silly was Mum? George would have never hit me when I was a babe. If anyone hit me a good smack with a stick it would have been vile-Fred."

That's want you think, isn't it Ginny? Ha! I like to think of writing all this down in your diary as something of historical record. So, I'm going to wise you up Gin. You're all muddled up and I'm going to set you straight.

Gin, who is always dead brutal to you? Who kicks your ikle arse if you are rude or have a smart mouth? Who always stole the ice lollys from your podgy baby hand? Who told you the cat thought you were a dirty because you didn't use the litter box? Ah! And who ratted you out to Mum when you did use the litter box? Fred, you're thinking, right?

Now Ginny, when you were a tot, who sang and rocked you to sleep when you were a cranky little boogie? Who never misses your bloody frequent birthdays and sees to it you always have a Knut or two to rub together in your pocket on a rainy day? Yes, you're think that would be me, dear-George, that's who.

Well, its time to grow up Ginny. Here's the truth of it:

Fred is George.

George is Fred.

Confused? Well, I mean to say when one of us is being kind to you he says, 'I'm George.'

If one of us is being a right bastard, he tells you, 'I'm Fred.'

See? Your loving twin brothers made things easy for your ikle brain.

Good brother = George

Bad brother = Fred

We started our little "Easy Blame Plan" when you were only two years old. We kept confusion to a minimum for you. All you had to know was George did all the good stuff and Fred did all the bad stuff. How easy was that for you to keep track of? Yeah, our clever plan has worked right up to this very day!

Love, your handsome and adoring brothers,

Gred and Feorge

Wednesday, 3 November, 1994

All I have heard about all day Miss Weasley is that you have a - peculiarity - unique in Hogwart's history. Decided to have a look for myself.

Merlyn's mawkish maw! I do not know what I expected to find when I lifted up the covers from your bum, but when I saw your... made me drop my rucksack. I thought Mr Z was winding us all up breakfast, but the ponce was right - you, the littlest Weasley, have an extra pair of eyeballs growing on your - you will pardon me if I'm blunt - arse!

Lovely arse.

Lovely eyes growing there too; the lashes all long, silky and red as copper Knuts - just like the lashes on your proper eyes, the ones shut tight on your face. Really nice. Do you know, I even touched one of your bum eyelids and it fluttered a bit - nearly scared me to death - but you did not wake.

Didn't know people got freckles down there too. In my dorm we have freckled sorts among the boys but in the boys showers, unlike Mr. Z, I keep my eyes to myself.

No, really a nice bum you have there Miss W - been staring at it for a while now. Mind, when I first lifted the duvet from your arse, I had to cover my face with a pillow I nicked from a bed just to keep from laughing and waking you up. Your arse crack looks like a smile -cute as a billywig's ear - your arse that is.

Miss Weasley; your bum, eyeballs or no eyeballs, looks like a fist full of sweets.

As long as I am writing in your little diary Miss W, I ought to fill you in on something. You ought to know that poverty in a pureblood wizard is pathetic. But I thought you ought to be told poverty in a pureblood witch - especially one with a lovely arse - is not at all pathetic - a bit sad perhaps. Anyway, helplessness only makes a witch - at worst - interesting. Thought you ought to know.

Drat. Madame Pomfrey left her office, I can hear her fussing with a student down the aisle. How thick I am. I ought to have spent this time reading your diary instead of writing in it. My Father told me I was told a diary you once owned is legendary - like Potter's scar.

Alas, instead of having a read, I was vain enough I want to leave my mark in your diary on chance one day this diary too will achieve great status. Vanity is one of my lesser faults though I believe vanity is not so much as fault as the privilege of a superior mind. Best wishes for a full recovery.

Too bad you didn't wake up. I am writing with my left hand so don't even bother trying to puzzle out whose handwriting this is. I've been here for a bit - waiting for Pomfrey to tend to me. I have a small but severe potion burn which hurts, but not as much as a witch - a pureblood as pretty as you - could hurt my heart if she had the chance.

Signed,

A classmate

1