25 December 1995

Poor mum is all in a dither. Percy sent back his Christmas jumper! She’s been in tears all morning. Fred and George tried to cheer her up, but they didn’t do too good a job of it. Lupin fared a little better, enough so that she was coherent enough to make breakfast when I went down after Hermione and I had opened our presents.

Mum gave me the usual; a hand knit sweater, this time with the word ‘princess’ knit into the front. I don’t know whether to hug her or curse her roundly. I mean, I’m fourteen years old! Princess? Honestly! I wore the damned thing down to breakfast (because mum would have said something if I hadn’t) and sure enough, Fred and George gave me no end of grief.

"The princess in search of her handsome prince!" howled Fred as I sat down next to Harry.

Harry just gave me a slant-wise smile. I’m glad he doesn’t remember, at least this way he’ll still talk to me. Honest, If he remembered falling asleep last night with me in his bed, I doubt very much if he’d even be able to look at me !

"Forgot your Tiara, princess!" said George, tossing me the knit cap mum had made him (green with a gold star worked onto the front).

I tried to play along. I took my spoon and began knighting everyone I could reach. It got a good bit of laughs, but I really wish they wouldn’t; makes me feel stupid.

We’re supposed to be going to St. Mungo’s again after lunch to see Dad. I hope Harry doesn’t get any weird ideas this time around!

26 December 1995

God, I felt so horrible stumbling across Neville and his parents like that yesterday! I mean, yes, of course I knew about Neville’s parents. Harry knows, doesn’t he? Well, I should have known! I should have realized that the long-term care ward was where they would be! I should have been able to head everyone off, create a diversion with my Elementals, something! But no, stupid me just sits there with her mouth open.

Damn, as if seeing Lockhart wasn’t a big enough shock! Do you realize just how many horrible memories seeing him brought to the surface? Things about my first year that I hadn’t thought of in ages came bubbling to the surface. What would I have said if I’d broken down? What would I have told Ron, Hermione and Harry?

Better not to think about that me thinks.

6 January 1996

Happy New Year and all of that!

Oh, yeah, special gift for Harry, he’s going to be taking Occlumency lessons with Snape of all people. That’s right, you heard me, Professor Snape is going to teach Harry Occlumency. Professor Dumbledore has got to be out of his gourd! Doesn’t he realize that Snape and Harry hate each other? I’m not just talking about the usual personality conflict one finds between students and teachers, I’m talking about pure, unadulterated hatred! Nasty business being around the two of them — even just in Harry’s head whenever they flare up.

But the animosity he has to Harry is nothing — nothing like the antagonism he holds toward Sirius. He seems to take Sirius’s being proved to be innocent to be a personal insult or something. I had to hustle people along to make certain that we got into the house before Snape and Sirius started throwing hexes at each other.

I talked to Sirius later — I actually snuck out of bed and went looking for him as a cat. Found him in his bedroom and sat on his chest, kneading him with my claws out, until he finally woke up and came down to the kitchen to make us both some hot chocolate.

He avoided the issue of Snape, but seemed quite concerned over Dumbledore’s choice of Snape as a teacher for Harry’s new lessons. (He didn’t ask me how I knew Harry was going to be taking Occlumency, I think Sirius has his suspicions regarding how I know so much about what’s going on with Harry, but he’s never voiced them).

He asked me especially to keep an eye out for Harry, and it was all I could do not to break clean and tell him the whole thing. I mean, honestly, how much harm could it really do if Sirius knew about me being inside of Harry’s head?

There’s always the possibility that he might ask me for personal information out of concern for Harry. I mean, I know Sirius really cares about Harry, but he’s still a member of the Order. Who know what he might feel is necessary for the Order to know?

7 January 1996

I always wanted to ride on the Knight’s Bus, but after throwing up all over that poor Warlock, well, I don’t think I’ll want to try it again in a hurry! That was certainly one hell of a wild ride!

Well, back again I suppose. The beginning of a new term, the beginning of a New Year, and Mandy is of a mind to go into detail about her latest sexual escapades. I fled the dormitory as soon as I could mange it, spent the rest of the evening talking with Hermione. She’s quite nervous about her O.W.L.’s already and was showing me the practice papers she sent away for by owl post.

I took a look at them and didn’t want to tell her, but I recognized most everything on there! I know, I know, it’s probably just my ‘special abilities’ making themselves known again. Figures.

8 January 1996

You know what’s really annoying? I’m developing a reputation for being the smartest student in our year, and it’s not even me who knows the damned stuff! I hear McGonagall explain a spell we’re about to practice and suddenly I just know. I know exactly what the spell will entail, how to move my wand, everything! Annoying really. I mean, it comes in handy, but it’s not really me doing the work now, is it?

Sort of depressing actually, sort of like Harry’s first Occlumency lesson with Snape. Dreadful! He’s just finished it up now. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else the entire time, it was that bad! It took everything I had not to shove the information on how to resist the damned Legilimens hex into the front of Harry’s brain, but I restrained myself. HE HAS GOT TO FIGURE THIS OUT ON HIS OWN!

Stupid git - Snape, not Harry. But both of them have got their bloody heads stuck up their own arses when it comes to their anger; so much for the bloody ostrich, eh? Now I’ve got a friggin headache.

9 January 1996

Well, at least now we know why Voldemort was so happy. All the Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban last night! God, Dad must be having a hell of a time at the Ministry! I bet they are going absolutely spare! But how did they do it, the Death Eaters I mean? I mean, you don’t just walk into Azkaban and start springing locks!

There were actual shudders going down my spine as I read the names in the paper. Most of these Death Eaters are legendary! The things they did. There are stories, Dad will tell them if you get him in the right mood, of course not around Mum, she thinks that stories of Dark Magic and horrendous murders are inappropriate for ‘children’ as she of course still thinks of all of us.

I just can’t imagine how someone would be able to put aside all inhibitions to do the sorts of things these people did. I mean, torture, rape, murder. And not just killing but mutilating bodies in the most horrible ways imaginable. It doesn’t seem — natural somehow. How can anyone get a thrill out of watching someone else suffer?

Scratch that. Watching me suffer is exactly what Tom did all through my first year. And we’re not just talking about physical suffering (I mean, do you realize just how much it hurts an eleven-year-olds wrists to wring the necks of twenty-two roosters all at one time?) there were - other things . . .

I don’t remember everything he had me do. Sometimes I’d wake up and be covered in paint, or blood, or dirt and only when I heard rumors about what had been going on in the castle did I understand. Other times I would be in a sort of haze, doing things — and being aware that I was doing them — but not having a clue as to WHY. Very frustrating.

But the fact remains — whenever I’d write down in that diary my fears about what I’d done, his responses, while always appropriately soothing and reassuring, always had a twinge of, well, gloating in them; as if he was enjoying my accounts. I thought at the time that it was just because he hadn’t had anyone to talk to in so long, but I guess there was more to it than that.

And then at the end —when he forced himself into my mind physically — there was no peaceful blacking out. There was no peaceful fugue-like state. There was just stark physical pain and unadulterated horror at the sudden rush of raw power and the dreadful knowledge that came with it as he poured his soul into mine.

It’s still there you know; all of it. Everything that he showed me. Everything that he was — up until that point in time. Everything he had done or read or thought of. It’s like there’s a part of him inside of me still, or rather, a shadow, for he doesn’t have any real power over me. He can’t make me do anything. But every now and then I’ll hear whispers. Every now and then I’ll catch glimpses of horrible and dreadful things. Every now and then I’ll have the sudden urge to hex someone who’s bothering me a thousand ways from Sunday. Every now and then I’ll remember; remember what its like to be Tom Riddle.

It is empowering in a way, to know that I could hurt someone. That I could hex Cho so badly that she’d have to be sent home in a sealed container, that I could turn my wand on Umbridge and she’d never stand a chance. That I could make Draco into something that would make his Ferret days seem like a gentle afternoon stroll through the park.

But I don’t. I CHOOSE not to and that you see is my true power. Did I get the strength of will from Tom, or was it there, deep inside of me, all along? I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter; not really. In the end, all that matters is the choice that I made.

14 January 1996

Michael got all huffy with me today because I was going on about Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six. Have you read it? Of course not. That was a stupid thing to ask. But honestly, she’s gone above and beyond on this stupid decree, Umbridge has. It says that the teachers are banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.

I mean, come off it! What happens if a student has a problem? McGonagall is our Head of House, she’s supposed to be like a stand-in parent for the kids in Gryffindor. Honestly, how long do you think Hermione would have been able to deal with the stress of the classes she was taking in her third year if McGonagall hadn’t been there to give encouragement and advice on how to handle the increased class load? I wonder if Umbridge has given this any thought. Perhaps she doesn’t care that in the long run it is going to do more harm than good. She’s just worried about the teachers talking about ‘issues’ she doesn’t ‘deem appropriate’ to be discussed in front of ‘school age children.’

She really is a miserable teacher too. Did you know that she has us all reading the same book? ALL OF US. I’m talking everyone from first years to seventh years. She says that it is part of the Ministry’s plan to revolutionize Defense Against the Dark Arts. !!!!! I don’t know what she’s playing at, but if it wasn’t for the D.A. we wouldn’t be getting any sort of practical instruction in Defense at all! And don’t even get me started about Care of Magical Creatures.

Poor Hagrid. He really is beaten. He doesn’t dare to act like himself anymore. He’s always looking over his shoulder and flinching whenever he hears anyone clear their throat. It’s sad really. Hagrid shouldn’t be afraid of anything, it sort of goes against the fundamental nature of things!

15 January 1996

God, he was so mad when he stormed out of the common room! I sat there in the common room, trying not to pay attention to the way Harry was touching himself, to the sensation of the water cascading over his body, but when I realized that his mind had slipped from Cho to myself, well, I sort of had to sit up and take notice.

I kid you not! There he was, trying to imagine Cho in the shower with him — and it wasn’t working! He kept seeing me! His mind kept replaying how it felt to be laying there with me beneath him, and the way he had had the sudden urge to just lean down and kiss me. So I decided to give him a little shot in the arm. I sat back, closed my eyes, and imagined myself there in the shower with him. I really got into it and, well, bloody hell, I had no idea that one could — get off — on just a mental image! I didn’t even need to touch myself. He was touching me — in his imagination, mind you, but it was enough. Oh god, was it ever enough!

So, is that what it feels like to be a bloke’s fantasy girl, eh? Interesting.

2 2 January 1996

I am definitely not looking forward to Valentines Day; mostly because Harry IS looking forward to it. With any luck I’ll be able to avoid him and his little chippie all day.

That was uncalled for. Cho is not necessarily a chippie. She is very intelligent and is an excellent Quidditch player, but she has no business with Harry! She can’t seem to get this through her head. She’s determined to make both their lives miserable by encouraging him. She’s always coming up to him in the hall, slipping her hand into his, whispering in his ear or kissing him on the cheek.

Harry, as can be imagined, is in his glory. He’s not trying for anything more, I don’t think he’d know how to go about initiating a good snog session with Cho, he’s rather intimidated by her if the truth must be told.

It’s especially bad during D.A. meetings, because Cho just sits there, looking all doe-eyed at him, and it feeds him, his ego, you can see the pride flaring in his eyes. She likes me. She wants to be with me. Poor Harry. He’s in for a rude awakening.

I am really looking forward to next weekend. Another full moon! Another chance to talk to Mira.

24 January 1996

You know, I think I can really envy the girl who will end up with Neville. He really is the sweetest soul. I found him last night, sitting all by himself on that staircase behind the tapestry. He’d fallen into the trick step and was waiting patiently for someone to come by and help him out.

Well, once he was free he asked me if I’d like to take a walk with him. I decided why the hell not? I didn’t have anything else planned. Well, I was supposed to meet Michael at eight, but somehow I just didn’t feel in the mood. He ticked me off properly, Michael did.

It was yesterday at Supper. I was leaving the Great Hall and Michael came up behind me. He was all sweet and hugged me from behind, well, on sudden inspiration I pulled him into an empty classroom and had him pressed up against the wall. Can you believe the git got all bent out of shape? He actually wrenched himself free and told me that was a very unladylike thing for me to do and then all about how he was late for some stupid Gobstones game he and Terry Boot were supposed to be playing tonight.

Unladylike? Who the hell is he, Mr. Million Hands, to tell me that sneaking off into an empty classroom for a good snog is unladylike? He pulls me into classrooms all the time, so it can’t be the being alone together that bothers him. But it’s not the first time he’s done something strange like that. I actually kissed him the other day, in front of Terry, and he had the nerve to tell me that he would really prefer it if I didn’t kiss him in front of his friends! He kisses me in front of his friends — including Terry — all the time. What the hell is going on?

29 January 1996

Mira made an interesting observation. She thinks that Michael has a superiority complex — which is not like an inferiority complex. It means that he has to feel he has the upper hand in a situation or in a relationship in order for it to work for him. I’ll have to give that one some thought.

Mira has a lot of interesting observations and they always seem to be spot on! Her timing is impeccable. But of course, being from the future, it should be! She’s become very insistent that I start putting everything I’ve learned together. That I have a reference to use once she’s no longer around to remind me of the different sorts of things I am capable of and of the different things she’s taught me. So, for the first time that I’ve known her, Mira has given me homework. She calls it a book of shadows and says that it will work wonders in my being able to organize myself effectively — whatever that means.

Ah well, I’m not going to argue, Mira’s never been wrong yet!

13 February 1996

Michael is ticked because I told him that I won’t be able to go into Hogsmeade with him tomorrow. Hell, it’s not as if he actually asked me to go or anything! He must have just assumed that of course I was going to go in with him. But when he started talking about how he wanted to take me to Madam Pudifoot’s I couldn’t just sit there, so I interrupted him (heaven forbid! You should have seen him scowl!) and then apologized and told him that I wouldn’t be able to go into Hogsmeade at all, seeing as that Angelina had called an all-day practice for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

I’m not too chuffed about the idea of an all-day practice and on a Hogsmeade weekend nonetheless, but what choice do I have? As much as I was looking forward to going into Hogsmeade, I was also dreading it — I mean, what if I were to run into Harry and Cho somewhere, snogging each other senseless? I mean, it would be bad enough to have to experience it, but to actually see it too? Talk about depressing! Besides, I want Gryffindor to win, and with Jack and Andrew being such pitiful players, well, we need all the practice we can get. I’m certain that’s what Angelina has in mind as well!

14 February 1996

I can’t believe it. No, I don’t want to believe it. Neville stopped me this afternoon on the way up to the common room after supper and told me something — but he can’t be serious, can he? I mean, that would have happened right after Harry left Cho.

Neville says that he saw Cho and Michael having a nice cozy chat at the Hogs Head. I didn’t ask what he was doing there, but he said that Michael, Terry and Anthony had been trying to coerce that bartender into giving them some Fire whiskey, and that Cho came in , all dripping wet and in tears and that Michael took her to a separate table, bought her a drink, and that they spent the better part of an hour by themselves.

Now, he is in her house. I can’t get past that. He was probably just helping her recover; a friendly sort of thing. I mean, it’s not like Neville saw them snogging or anything. Still, it bothers me a little. Especially seeing as that he knew I was not happy at having to stay for this whole day Quidditch thing. Damn Angelina and her determination to win the cup, anyway. She’s a maniac! Maybe she can work straight through lunch, but some of us get hungry round about noon!

Well, we lost. Figures. We did play pretty miserably. But at least I caught the Snitch! That has to count for something! Ron was dreadful. I’ve never seen him play so bad! Ah well. Couldn’t be helped I suppose. I probably should have put off catching the Snitch, but we were so far behind, I had to put us out of our misery. Without Fred, George and Harry, we are so damned pathetic!

Michael was all enthusiastic about Hufflepuff winning, which didn’t go over with me too well, as you might imagine. I don’t understand why — unless that means that he thinks Ravenclaw has an even better chance of winning now. Who knows. I’ve given up trying to figure him out.

Ah well, at least I got complimented by Harry. He was impressed with my ‘performance’ even though he thought he could have done better himself. I know he would have done better. He has the instincts of a Seeker. I have the instincts of a Chaser, which is why I really do plan on trying out for the team as a Seeker next year. And in spite of what he thinks, Harry will be back on the team. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that.