The Extremely Secret Secrets of a Malfoy

Dear diary,

Day ten in purgatory...

An interesting thing happened a minute ago. The doorbell rang. Guess why? There was someone at the door. Ha, ha.

But seriously, they were there for a reason. They were looking for somewhere to rent, and they'd spotted the little farmers' cottage on the hill by our house. Dad bought it off the old muggle living there, just because it happened to be sitting there on the very edge of our estate, and it was annoying him that he owned everything you can see from the front doors except that. Not that you can see it very well; it's jut a big grey blot on the hill, but you can see the smoke from the chimney in winter.

But anyway - they were muggles. And even better, they have a child I can scare out of its wits. Not that I saw it, but I heard them mentioning it when I was spying. Oh, fun, fun, fun. Someone out there granted my wish.

I still can't believe mum let them in, mind, I mean - they were muggles! Muggles! And she agreed to rent the cottage out to them, too! I was amazed. She said we needed the money as a fallback, and it would do no harm, and if they bothered us or ventured an inch into the grounds they would seriously regret it, but I still can't believe it. But I'm glad she said yes - this kid will be even better than slave children! They'll be staying out there in the cottage for the whole of the summer holidays, starting tomorrow. Apparently they've been living in the south of France for six years, and this is just a holiday. They used to run a hotel, but they bought a load of chalets in France and moved out there. Their brat goes to a boarding school or something. That's what the woman said. Mum just glared at her while she tried to be friendly. Anyway, fun fun fun, finally. I can play all sorts of tricks - I can't wait to get them with a nose-biting teacup. Or, I know! Those Backwards Bonbons from Weasleys Wizard Wheezes. I can't believe I bought something off a Weasley, but...well, the shop was pretty good, and, well, they are pretty funny, I s'pose. Oh, what the hell, they're hilarious and their joke shop is really good. But I won't admit it to them. But I s'pose it can't do any harm to write it here, isn't that the point of a diary? And this diary bites if you try to open it without the key. I mean, properly, it has razor-sharp teeth; it could take your hand off. It's got bloodstains all over it, and it growls very sinisterly when you come near. I think Dad got it in Knockturn Alley. Of course, he still won't let me have the Hand of Glory, and I don't know why. I think it was because of that thing that Borgin said about thieves, God... that was ages ago...Time flies. It's weird.

Oh, Mum's calling me. I think she's in a better mood today.

Blimey, she was in a better mood! We went to Diagon Alley, and she gave me thirty galleons to spend while she went clothes shopping. Oh, and she bought me an ice cream, and some new robes. I reckon she's feeling guilty. I'll have to remember that tactic when I want something. Oh, but Muuum! ...You never seem to pay any attention to me anymore, why are you being so neglectful? This is h-hard for m-me, what with D-dad in A-Azkaban...sob, sob, etc. etc. I can only get away with crying to Mum, if Dad caught me he'd cuff me over the head and tell me to grow up and stop being a whiny sissy girl, not that that's a problem now. Mum cares, so she's easier to get around. She's so soppy and pathetic. Anyway, I spent my galleons on a broomstick servicing kit, I bet Potter and Weasley haven't got one of them! Oh, and I bought a load of practical jokes, too, to get this muggle kid. Muggle-baiting is so fun.

I wonder whether it's a boy or a girl? I don't even know how old it is; probably older than eleven, if they go to a boarding school. I don't know whether to invite it over, but I don't want it to dirty all my stuff with its filthy muggle hands. Eww! I'd never get my things clean. But the other option is their house... hmmm. Maybe not. Anyway, we got back really late, so I think I'll go to bed...