A FanFiction by Arabella

Based on "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban"

by J.K. Rowling

Disclaimer: It’s all JKR’s, of course. I lay claim to nothing but the personality of Gwen, who is a little miffed about that

and says I have nothing to do with it.

July 27

Gwen, it’s me!

Wonderful. I got some of my new books by owl-order so I’d have them to study while I’m home and in France. We’re leaving in just a few days! I’m so excited about it, and I’m in such a good mood, because I just got a letter back from Ron. Of course, it did take him a month. I should really be in a foul mood–I ran into those bullies from my old school today.

The same. And yes, they made all the usual comments about me- crazy witch, bushy hair, huge front teeth- which actually surprised me, Gwen. I thought they’d still be scared about what happened last summer. But that’s all right. This time, for the first time, they couldn’t touch a nerve! I felt sorry for them, I really, really did. They don’t get to go to Hogwarts, and they don’t get to go to France! So I just ignored them, (which bothered them even more than what I did with my wand last summer,) and then when I got home, there was this letter from Ron:

"Dear Hermione,

Gwen, that is a real letter! What happened to him?

Yes! Dad says I can stay overnight at the Leaky Cauldron with the Weasleys. They’ll drop me off with all my Hogwarts stuff on August 31^st. I hope Harry shows up! I haven’t heard from him either. I was just getting ready to ring him up, but now I think I’d better not–honestly, how difficult can it be to use a telephone, Ron? I hope he’s taking Muggle Studies, he needs to. But anyway, other than that, this has just been a perfect summer. I’ve gotten in loads of studying, and I’m going to be in France in three days!

We’re taking the Eurostar via the Channel Tunnel to Paris, (under the Channel, Gwen!) and spending the first week there. Then we’ll go down through the Loire Valley, then to Bordeaux and Aix en Provence, then up the western coast to Mont St. Michel, and back to Paris for the chunnel train over to London. Doesn’t that sound unreal? I’ve always wanted to visit all those places. I’d really love to see Nice, too, but Dad says we don’t have time and Mum says the south coast is over-priced. Anyway, I’m certainly not complaining!

Oh, yes, do! Tell her we can chat all about it when I come to Diagon Alley, if she likes. I can’t wait! Oh, I’ve got to go. Mum and I have been practicing our French together every night, and she’s calling for me, because it’s seven o’clock. "Hermione! Allons, il sont sept heures!" Au revoir, Gwen!

July 31

Gwen! Bonjour!

We’ve just arrived in Paris, and it’s mind-boggling! I’ve got to get organized so’s not to miss anything. I want to see the Louvre, the Rodin museum, the Tuileries–Dad says he’s heard about this lovely place called Angelina’s that’s right off the Tuileries, where they serve the most heavenly hot chocolate. Mum frowned- normally they don’t give into sugary things, because they’re dentists and all- but she said as it’s so famous, perhaps we can do it just this once! And then I can pick up the card or a bon-bon or something if they have one, and take it back for Angelina Johnson, since it’s her namesake! But who I’ve definitely got to get presents for while I’m here are Harry, Ron and Ginny. Harry’s birthday’s really soon.

What else, what else.... I have too many guidebooks. Place de la Concorde, the tour boat down the Seine- "Bateaux Parisiens"- and the Sorbonne, and Notre Dame, and Montmartre- the Champs-Elysees and the Eiffel Tower- and I want to take the train out to Versailles and see that village Marie Antoinette had built, and all the gardens–

Okay, I won’t! See you later, Gwen!

August 7

Gwen, Paris was a dream. Absolument parfait. I’ll never forget a moment, and I’ve taken loads of pictures. Versailles! The Hall of Mirrors.... the Apollo Fountain.... ooooh. I’m willing to bet that some magic went into the building of that place. It seemed almost enchanted

We’re in the Loire Valley, visiting all the chateaux. It’s a lovely, quiet, warm night. This hotel is really nice. I’m sitting out on the balcony, looking up at the stars. It makes me think of–Gwen, something in the sky–wait a minute!

That’s funny. I could have sworn I saw Hedwig.

Yes. I wish it really were Hedwig, because then I could–wait–it is Hedwig! She’s so snowy, she just blended right in with the moon for a moment, and I couldn’t see her! Oh, pretty owl, how wonderful! Just a moment, Gwen, I’ve got to tie something to her leg before she flies off.

What an amazing pet she is! I’ll bet she knew it was time for Harry’s birthday. Animals can be really brilliant. I’ve had Harry’s present here with me for the last few days- I ordered it from an ad in the Daily Prophet (I’ve been getting it forwarded to me so I can keep up.) It’s a Broomstick Servicing Kit for his Nimbus Two Thousand, and I had no idea how I’d ever get it to him in time–what if it’d been opened at customs? Lovely, dear Hedwig! Oh, if I have any extra money this year in Diagon Alley, I’m definitely getting an owl. I need a pet, and owls are the best. I’m so glad Harry’s going to get his present- he says his birthdays with those Dursley people are always really depressing. Well not this year! I wonder if Hedwig will stop and check with Ron, too? But then, the Weasleys have their own owl, Errol, and Percy has Hermes. Although maybe they didn’t bring the owls with them.

Oh, that’s right! Gwen, it’s too wonderful, really. Ron’s dad won the Daily Prophet’s Annual Grand Prize Galleon Draw–seven hundred galleons! So his whole family gets to spend a month in Egypt, visiting his oldest brother, Bill! I’m so jealous! I mean, there’s a lot to learn here, of course, and I have managed to dig up a few local witchcraft facts for my History of Magic Essay. But Egypt! All those ancient wizards, the Pyramids, the curses and mummifications- it’s just so fascinating. I’ll bet he’s learning loads. I hope he remembers everything, so he can tell me all about it. He looks really happy.

Picture of the Weasleys in the Daily Prophet with an article all about their winning, and their trip. I love wizarding photos! All nine of them are standing in front of a pyramid, waving and smiling- I feel like I could almost talk to them. Ron’s got his pet rat Scabbers on his shoulder and his arm ‘round Ginny- she’s looking really well, that’s nice to see. I’m so glad for them, Gwen. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see win seven hundred galleons and go off on holiday.

There’s something else in the latest paper, too, though- something not nice. It’s in the Daily Prophet and the regular London Times. I’ve never seen anything from the magic world in the Muggle papers before, so I knew it must be very important, and I’ve read as much as I can about it. It’s frightening.

Sirius Black has escaped from the wizard prison, from Azkaban. Apparently he’s completely mad and extremely evil. They say he was Voldemort’s right hand man. That is, they said so in the Daily Prophet. They say that the day after Voldemort murdered the Potters, tried to kill Harry and lost all his power, Sirius Black let loose in the middle of a regular Muggle street, and blasted a lot of people to smithereens. I guess the biggest part they ever found of anybody was the finger of somebody called Peter Pettigrew. It’s sick. The Muggle papers are reporting that a convicted murderer is on the loose in England, and they’ve printed a photo of a very gaunt, sallow, black haired man. He is scary looking. Like a skull.

I know. But he did. It’s really disturbing.

Gwen, it’s crazy, but I swear that for a second just then.... I mean, I know that Harry’s back in England, and Ron’s all the way in Egypt, and I’m over here in France.... but for a second I had the strongest feeling that we were all thinking about each other at once. I’m almost sure of it. Is that because of magic, do you think? I don’t really believe in that sort of thing–even though my Divination textbook, "Unfogging the Future", has a short summary on the reality of psychic thought connections. Do you think they’re real?

I guess. Maybe I just really miss them. France is tres belle, and all that, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than Hogwarts. Speaking of which, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to stay on schedule with my studies. The more I can do in advance, the better off I'’ll be when term begins.

Mais oui! So far, Arithmancy is my favorite, but all my textbooks are really exciting. I’m working my way through my Muggle Studies one right now, and it’s so funny to see the normal world I’m used to through the magical perspective. Just like Ron with the telephone–I mean, what’s obvious to me seems almost like magic to him! I think that’s neat. Oh, but I’ve gotten off track again. No more writing for me. I’ve got to study. Goodnight.

August 19

Ooooh, Gwen.

I’m in Bordeaux, and we went to an amazing restaurant last night, called Le Charivari. It was so chic. I had a sort of shellfish stew called–wait, let me check my dictionary–bouillabaisse. It’s very nice. Also, Mum and Dad let me taste some wine with them! Mum wasn’t going to let me, but Dad laughed and said, "French children customarily drink wine, and I’m sure Hermione is mature enough to try a bit." So Mum gave in, but only barely. Anyway, I got to taste it. It made my tongue all cottony. I’m not sure what the point is, to be honest with you, but I did feel quite grown-up.

I have to pack you up now, though. We’re leaving for Aix a day early because we’re trying to squeeze in a day at the beach on the Riviera after all! I’ll write you from there. ‘Bye!

August 23

Bienvenue a la Cote d’Azur, Gwen!

Welcome to the Blue Coast, the Riviera! I’m on the beach in my swimsuit. It’s very uncomfortable as the sand down by the Hotel Eden is all rocks, but it’s also very pretty out here, so I’m trying to bear it. Ugh, I’m all sticky and soapy smelling because Mum made me put cream on. I don’t burn, so I don’t know why she makes me wear it. We start back up the coast tomorrow, and then Mont St. Michel, and then home. And then only four days to get all ready for school! I’m trying not to panic. I want to enjoy every last minute of this trip.

Aix en Provence was quaint and cobblestoned, all little shops and latticed windows. There was an outdoor market where we got lunch, and then we hiked up Montagne Sainte-Victoire. It’s only an hour climb, but it’s really exhausting, so I was surprised to find, at the top, that there’s a sort of ruined shrine, with lots of stone columns and statues and things, and a sort of rock cabin built into the cliff. I couldn’t help but wonder how it all got up there. No one could have carried those statues that high, and there are no roads leading to the top. I really think it was magic. It’s so funny, Gwen, but I can spot magic in the Muggle world from a mile away now, whereas before, when I didn’t know I was a witch, I’d have never noticed anything.

I’ve got to add that shrine thing into my History of Magic essay. I’ve already revised it nine times, and it’s two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for, but I don’t want to leave anything out. However, I think I’ll go back up to the hotel to work on it. These stupid pebbles are all sticking to my sunscreen lotion, and it’s impossible to settle down out here. I’m going inside, Gwen. See you soon.

August 29

Gwen!

Back in England- no time- leaving for school the day after tomorrow- owl from Ron- meeting the Weasleys Sunday morning for sure- still no word from Harry- still haven’t packed, or finished studying, or anything- I’ll visit you at Miss Vauclain’s in two days- I can’t wait- ‘Bye!

Hello, everyone! It’s Hermione Granger again. Is Gwen around?

Mais oui, Marguerite, I adored it. I went all over. Where were you from?

Yes, I did go! You lived there?

Oh, how horrid! But Versailles was very beautiful, and at least you got to live there before you were beheaded.

Gwen! I’ve brought Ginny Weasley, if you’d like to meet her.

I’m fine. It’s all right, I know you’ve heard all about me. Hermione told me she wrote you about the Chamber of Secrets.

We’ve just woken up, and come down to visit you right off- I’ve been looking forward to it all summer! My mum and dad are talking to Hermione’s parents over breakfast, helping them understand Dark Arts and things. My brothers are all still sleeping except Percy, but he’s busy polishing his Head Boy badge, and we didn’t really want him to come anyway- just us girls this morning- you know.

It was good! I miss Bill, and it was so nice to see him- he’s my eldest brother, if you didn’t know, and he’s really brilliant- he’s a curse-breaker at Gringotts over there. He showed us ‘round the Pyramids and things. Mum wasn’t going to let me into see into some of the scariest tombs, but Fred helped me sneak past her. Anyway, I’ve seen scarier.

Oh! Well, I’ll try, but you know how smart she is- don’t you think she’ll be all right? I really don’t know how I could possibly stop her anyway–

Gwen! I saw that! This is a public diary, don’t forget. Don’t make Ginny worried, I told you, I’m going to be fine, and you know that I’ve studied and studied all summer. I’m quite prepared for everything.

Hermione, hanini, you’ve come again! What a nice surprise. I have to say, I was very worried when you disappeared for two months last year! I knew you must be very ill when we didn’t hear about the Quidditch matches. Gwen was extremely upset.

It’s all solved now, though, Cassie. Hopefully this year, I’ll be awake for every match!

Oh, yes, I hope so! It’s been far too long since we’ve had one of your Quidditch stories, hanini qalbi.

Qalbi?

Hi, Argo.

We can’t stay anyway, Gwen. Sorry, Argo! We told our parents we’d be back up to have breakfast with them in a minute. This was so much fun! I’ll write again tonight. ‘Bye, everyone!

August 31

Well, Gwen, one day back in the magical world, and already a million things have happened. My mum and dad left me with the Weasleys this morning. Ginny and I are sharing a room at the Leaky Cauldron- she’s right here next to me, already fast asleep. I’m tired, too, but I just have to tell you everything.

After my parents left, Ron and I went to do our school shopping and look for Harry. Ron’s dad told us Harry was staying in the Leaky Cauldron, too. He’s been in Diagon Alley for two whole weeks, because he inflated his Aunt Marge, and ran away from home.

I know. He inflated her. She was saying nasty things about his parents, and he just blew her right up, no wand or anything. And then he grabbed up all his school things, and ran away from the Dursleys’ house. He caught the Knight Bus- I guess it’s some sort of taxi service for wizards, I’m going to have to look it up- and came to Diagon Alley. Cornelius Fudge, our Minister of Magic, met him here and told him to stay at the Leaky Cauldron until school starts. I mean, I can’t believe he didn’t get in any trouble! We can’t ever do magic outside of school! Seriously, he’s really lucky not to be expelled.

Anyway, as Ron’s dad works at the Ministry, he knew all about what Harry’d done, and he told us after breakfast that he was in the Leaky Cauldron. We ran right up to his room, but he was already gone out, so we went off looking for him. On the way, we got our books (two huge bags full for me, Gwen. I only barely have room in my trunk!) One book was particularly odd- the "Monster Book of Monsters" for Care of Magical Creatures class. It bites. Literally, it’s a mad book, and it tries to snap your hands right off. I had to tie twine around mine so it wouldn’t tear my other books apart. Who on earth would assign that?

After that, we went to Ollivander’s Wand Shop, because Ron was getting a new wand to replace his broken one from last year. It’s so interesting, buying a wand, because Mr. Ollivander is so particular- it has to be just perfect- no two are ever alike. I remember when I first held mine. I knew it was mine. It made my fingers tingle, there was a surge of silver sparks, and I felt like it was just an extension of my arm- like a limb had been missing. All my life, I knew there was something peculiar and powerful happening in me, but I hadn’t been able to name it- and there it was. It’s a wonderful feeling, Gwen, isn’t it?

The wand that chose Ron this time is really long- it’s fourteen inches- but it fits him. He’s even taller this year, and he’s all freckly from that hot sun in Egypt. I’m very brown from travelling all summer, too. He asked about France, and I told him it was very nice. I asked about Egypt, and he said he’d seen "cool mutant mummies that had grown extra heads." I took that to mean that he’d enjoyed himself.

When we’d done with shopping and still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Harry, we decided to get ice creams at Fortescue’s, and wait outside to see if he’d pass by. (Mmmmm, Fortescue’s is marvelous. One good thing about Mum and Dad being gone is that no one tells me not to eat sugar!) Anyway, when Harry finally did walk by, Ron and I both started hollering so loud we practically spit out whole mouthfuls! I laughed so hard- Gwen, Harry hurried right over- I just love reunions. We hadn’t skipped a beat, really. Harry told us about inflating his aunt, Ron laughed, I scolded him- it’s the same as always, and it’s perfect. Of course they had to get on my nerves about having so many books "What are you doing Muggle Studies for? You’re Muggle-born, your mum and dad are Muggles, you already know all about Muggles-" but I did like you told me to, and changed the subject.

Once we’d said our hellos and Harry had gotten himself an ice cream, I wanted to go get one last thing. My birthday’s in September, and Mum and Dad gave me some money to buy myself an early birthday present. Ron said, "How about a nice book?" But I just ignored him and said, "No, I don’t think so. I really want an owl." And I did. I’ve been wanting an owl for about a year. So we all went over to the Magical Menagerie together, because Ron wanted to get some kind of rat tonic for Scabbers, who’s been looking really sick since all that travelling in Egypt, plus he’s really old. He used to be Percy’s, before Percy got Hermes.

Anyway, Ron slapped Scabbers on the counter to get some advice about him, while I looked ‘round to find the right owl. They were hooting and fluttering, and there were some lovely snowy ones that reminded me of Hedwig, but none of them seemed to be mine, you know? I’d go up to them and coo, but I was waiting for some kind of special connection, or sign, and none came. The witch behind the counter was getting rat tonic for Scabbers, and I was just about to go and ask her opinion. But suddenly, an enormous, orange cat propelled itself down from what seemed like the ceiling, and tried to pounce Ron and Scabbers!

It all happened in a flash- there was a loud crash, Scabbers fled the cat, Ron and Harry chased after him, and a minute later, cool as anything, the orange cat came strolling back through the door. He leapt up on the counter next to me, and looked right at me, as if he was waiting for something. I said, "Hello there, who are you?" The witch behind the counter said, "That there’s Crookshanks. Nobody wants that one. Cranky. Been here for ages." Crookshanks gave a truly pitiful meow–Gwen, I swear, he knew what was going on. I laughed and said, "Don’t try to fool me, Crookshanks- you’re not a sweet little kitten, are you?" He nuzzled my hand with the top of his head as if to say, "Yes, I am." So I scratched his ears. Before I could stop him, he leapt into my arms and began to purr. He was gorgeous! The witch behind the counter was shocked. "Never seen that cat friendly to anyone," she said. "That’s a right miracle."

He was mine-- I knew it the same way I knew with my wand. "I’ll take him," I said. And so I have a cat! Oh, he’s just wonderful. Why would I ever want an owl? My little Crookshanks, my little kitty- he’s curled up at the foot of the bed with his big ginger tail flopped across Ginny’s heel. She loves him too. We cuddled him to pieces tonight. Ron doesn’t like him, though, and he’s not happy I bought a cat who pounced him on the head and tried to attack Scabbers. Well, Crookshanks is a cat, Gwen. Of course he’s going to attack Scabbers, who is a rat. Honestly. Anyway, he’ll be in my dormitory, and the rat will be in Ron’s, and I don’t see how there could be a problem.

I hardly know how I lugged all my books and Crookshanks back to the Leaky Cauldron. We got to the bar and met Mr. Weasley, who was reading more about Sirius Black in the Daily Prophet. Black’s still at large, and it’s been three weeks now. He most definitely did break out of Azkaban. To be honest, I don’t know much about the wizard prison, but from what I’ve read about the guards there, it seems they scare most people senseless. Everyone at the Ministry, including Ron’s dad, has been pulled off their normal jobs to try and track down Black, but Mr. Weasley says it’ll be an Azkaban guard that gets him in the end. I hope somebody does. I’m glad we’re going to be at Hogwarts tomorrow. There’s no safer place in the world than wherever Dumbledore happens to be.

We’re leaving early. The Ministry’s sending cars as a favor to Mr. Weasley, since there are such a load of us. Oh, it’s so good to see everyone again! Fred and George were the same as ever, trouncing ‘round and cracking a thousand jokes. Percy’s very formal this year, and very pleased to be Head Boy. I would be, too, if I were him, and I wish the rest would stop making fun of his badge–although I do find it funny that he’s calling Penelope Clearwater his girlfriend now. I think Ron stole his badge or something- I can hear the two of them hollering at each other through the wall behind me. Goodness. And Ginny.... well, what did you think of her?

Mm-hmm. And for the most part she’s lots of fun, but she still gets really tongue-tied with Harry. She walked in tonight from shopping with her mum, saw Harry, turned pink, and stopped speaking. I used to think she was just like that, but she’s not at all shy when it’s just us- she had plenty to say about you this morning. She thinks you’re wonderful.

Well, you are. But you know, Harry doesn’t even seem to notice how much she likes him. You’d think he could hardly miss something so obvious. But then again, some people just aren’t sensitive to those sorts of things.

But you are, though.

Yes, I – hang on – ooooh, that gives me the chills. I’m gooseflesh all over.

Ginny muttered in her sleep-- "Please, let me go up--" and then she tossed on her pillow. It’s spooky to hear a person talk in her sleep, isn’t it? Especially so clearly, as if she’s awake. I guess she’s still having nightmares about what happened to her last year- Mrs. Weasley took me aside after dinner and told me this might happen. She told me to come and fetch her if it gets really bad. What’s ‘really bad’ though?

Ooooh, this is making me uneasy. She just muttered, "No, Tom, don’t — you can’t be Him---"

It must have been horrifying down there in that Chamber. Oh, poor thing, how awful! Should I wake her? Should I go and get Mrs. Weasley? She’s practically crying, Gwen, I think I’d better do something–

Oh, Crookshanks! Good cat! He’s purring to her, and I think it’s making her dream nicer things! He just ran up the bed and curled himself between our pillows near her ear- he’s so smart. Yes, Crookshanks, that’s my clever boy, help Ginny sleep- he has the loveliest purr, Gwen, it’s such a soothing sound. Look at that! Ginny’s hands were in fists a second ago, but now she’s completely relaxed them-- and she was breathing really fast, but now she’s let out a little sigh...

I love my cat. I’m so happy! I’ll write you tomorrow– when I’m at Hogwarts!! Goodnight, Gwen.

September 1

Gwen, we’ll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes, and something really dreadful’s just happened- how can I tell you fast enough?

Sirius Black is after Harry. Harry overheard Mr. Weasley saying so last night, and he told Ron and me when we got on the train. Before Black escaped from Azkaban, he was heard muttering in his sleep, "He’s at Hogwarts, he’s at Hogwarts"!!!! That’s why Harry didn’t get into trouble for blowing up his aunt- Cornelius Fudge was just relieved to find him alive. That’s why the Ministry sent cars to take us to King’s Cross- they didn’t want Harry unprotected. It’s awful.

Harry told us everything in this compartment on the train, where I am now. We were all alone except for a teacher, but it didn’t matter he was here, because he was asleep the whole time. Professor R.J. Lupin- it says so on his briefcase- and he must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor because, well, there aren’t any other vacancies, are there? I was thinking to myself that he’d better be pretty good, what with Black on the loose, when suddenly, Professor Lupin had a chance to prove himself. These things called dementors came onto the train.

They did. We were just going along normally, when suddenly the train slowed to a halt and the lights went out. The storm outside didn’t help matters much- it was pitch black. Everyone stumbled around- Neville fell into our compartment and squashed Crookshanks- Ginny smacked into me and sat on Harry–and then all at once, Professor Lupin was awake, and on his feet, with some kind of fire in his hand. There was just enough light for us to watch as our compartment door slid open, and a tall, looming, hooded..... thing..... came gliding through the door.

Instantly the room was colder than ice, and I felt a wave of incredible sadness come over me- the way I used to feel back in Muggle school when I’d get teased and laughed at. I felt awful, sick, like I’d never be cheerful again. I couldn’t think about anything- I didn’t even care enough to go for my wand.

But Lupin told the hooded thing that none of us were hiding Sirius Black under our robes, (they must have been searching the train for Black,) and he shot a silvery cloud out of his wand at it, and the thing turned and floated away.

The lights came on. Harry was unconscious on the floor. He came to right away, and asked who was screaming. Nobody was screaming, Gwen. The cold in the room slowly went away, but everybody still looked freezing and pale. Lupin told us that the thing was one of the dementors of Azkaban, gave us chocolate to eat (I guess that’s the remedy against dementors or something) and walked out to talk with the driver.

We hauled Harry back up into his seat. He was upset that he’d passed out. Nobody else had- though I noticed Neville looked pretty shaken, and Ginny looked nearly as bad as Harry. When she gave a sob, I left Harry and went to put my arm around her. What was that thing? Why did it have that effect on everybody?

Professor Lupin came back a minute ago, and nobody’d touched the chocolate he’d given us. I reckon none of us really trusts anybody who says they’re a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. But Lupin smiled and said he hadn’t poisoned it, and after what he did with the dementor, it’s hard not to take his word. We ate it- and it’s so funny, but do you know the chocolate really works? The cold was sort of wiped from my body.

That’s it for now. The train is stopping- oh, we’re at school, we’re at school, thank goodness! There’s more, Gwen, but I have to tell you later. I have to get inside Hogwarts before I burst.

Sorry to cut off like that earlier, Gwen.

We’re fine. Things are a lot better, now that we’re at school. A lot better. I’ve got my Time-Turner! But let me start from the beginning, because Gwen, I left so much out before. I didn’t even get to finish telling you about Diagon Alley.

This morning was really nice, saying goodbye to the Weasleys and all. At breakfast, before all the boys came downstairs, Mrs. Weasley was actually telling Ginny and I about a Love Potion she made once when she was in school! It was so funny to hear a mum talking about stuff like that, and all three of us were in a fit of giggles. She’s fun. (Plus, I think it made Ginny feel better about Harry, because at platform nine and three-quarters, I actually saw her smile at him.) Mrs. Weasley even kissed me goodbye when she put us all on the train. I really like her. She talked with my mum about everything that happened last year, and it helped so much. Now Mum says she’s going to send owls to Mrs. Weasley whenever she has a concern, and I’m glad! It’s comforting to know that she has a grown-up friend in the wizarding world- Dad and Mr. Weasley get on well, too, and I think my parents really need that.

But ugh, Ron. Our parents might get on, but he is not being nice to Crookshanks, and he’d better stop pushing him around. When I let Crookshanks out of his basket, on the train, he jumped up into Ron’s lap, which I thought was sweet. He just wanted to make friends, Gwen. But oh no, Scabbers was in Ron’s pocket. Ron’s never given a care to Scabbers before- always going on about how he’s old and shabby and useless and missing a toe and everything- but now suddenly he’s acting all protective- he just doesn’t like Crookshanks for landing on his head back in the shop! So when Crookshanks jumped up on his knees, Ron took the opportunity to shove my cat onto the floor. I said, "Ron, don’t!" But he just turned up his nose at me and cupped a hand around the rat in his pocket as if he were fully justified. And that was right after our chat about Hogsmeade, which also made me mad.

It’s marvelous! At least, I’ve read that it is. Hogsmeade is the only completely non-Muggle settlement in all Britain, and third years and above can go into the Hogsmeade village on outings! We all got our permission slips signed this summer, and–oh, Gwen. Harry can’t go. That’s the thing.

The Dursleys wouldn’t sign his form.

Nobody will. He even asked the Minister of Magic. Nobody wants him out where Sirius Black can get at him. And I say that’s probably safest. Maybe he shouldn’t go to Hogsmeade until Black is caught. But Ron said--

Gwen! You’re as bad as Ron! That’s exactly what he said! That, and then some rubbish about Black not being able to hurt Harry "if we’re with him." Ron’s not thinking. Sirius Black blew apart a whole street full of Muggles. He slew thirteen people with one curse, and he’s practically Voldemort’s successor. He’s not going to care if we’re there or not, he’ll just kill all three of us. But nobody can sneak out anyway, we’ve got those horrid dementor things posted all around our school, standing guard in case Black tries to come here.

Nobody else does, either. Dumbledore told us at the feast tonight. The dementors are here all year. And no one can get past them, with a disguise, or with an Invisibility Cloak, so there’s not going to be any Hogsmeade for Harry. He wouldn’t dare go by those dementors. They really affect him badly. First he passed out on the train when that one came into our compartment-

True, but then when we drove through the gates into Hogwarts, we had to pass a couple of the dementor-guards, and these ones were all the way outside, yards and yards away from the carriages. But as we passed them, I saw Harry almost faint back against his seat, looking very sick again. At that point I still had my arm around Ginny, and she turned her head and leaned on me until we had lost sight of the dementors completely-- she doesn’t do well with them, either. And Neville was very, very pale- but then he’s easily frightened. I only felt a little cold when we saw them the second time, not bad at all, and Ron didn’t look upset by them, either. I guess they only affect us when they’re really close up.

Of course, when Malfoy heard that Harry’d fainted, he started right in. Can’t have one nice day back with Malfoy. "You fainted, Potter? You actually fainted? Did the scary old dementors frighten you, too, Weasley?" I hate him. He made a crack about Ron’s family on the train- as usual about their being poor- and I just wanted to kill him. Who cares if the Weasleys are poor- they’re wonderful people- anyway I’d rather live at the bottom of a well than have to live in Malfoy’s house. Ron says he’s not going to take any of Malfoy’s... well.... crap this year. I hope that doesn’t mean he’s going to fight him. But I do hate Malfoy. He’s the only thing I didn’t miss about Hogwarts.

Well, except Snape. I certainly didn’t miss him–he’s going to be even fouler this year, I can tell already. He really wanted that Defense Against the Dark Arts job when Professor Lockhart got dismissed, but he didn’t get it, and he looked like he wanted to strangle Professor Lupin when Dumbledore introduced him to all of us at the feast tonight. I’ve never seen Snape look that way at anybody but Harry- like he might slip poison in his cup at any moment and happily watch him die- but that’s how he looked at Professor Lupin.

Not that anybody else was very excited to welcome Lupin. Everybody here is sick and tired of getting to know new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, only to find out they’re really psychopaths, or idiots. But everybody from my compartment on the train, who saw the way Lupin handled that dementor, applauded really hard for him.

But Gwen, that’s nothing to the way we clapped for the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Professor Dumbledore announced that Professor Kettleburn had retired, and that the new Professor, the one who had assigned us the biting, mad "Monster Book of Monsters" (I mean, we should have guessed,) was–

HAGRID!!!

Yes! Ever since he got cleared with the Ministry for all those crimes that Tom Riddle committed, he’s allowed to do magic again, and he’s been promoted! He’s going to be our teacher! I’ve never been so proud–you should have seen him–he sobbed all over his tablecloth he was so happy. I nearly cried myself. What a perfect start to the year!

The only thing I missed was the Sorting, which I am sorry about. Harry missed it, too. Professor McGonagall took us up to her office right when we got to Hogwarts, so we missed the start of the feast. I knew why I was in her office, but I didn’t know what she wanted with Harry. Maybe to yell at him about blowing up his aunt, I thought, but that wasn’t the reason. Madam Pomfrey came along as well- they both just wanted to make sure that Harry had recovered from his fainting spell. He was really annoyed- Madam Pomfrey called him "delicate", and after getting jibed by Malfoy, I think that was the last thing Harry really wanted to hear. He took the chocolate they gave him and went out in the hall with Madam Pomfrey, looking very irritated.

The whole time that was happening, though, I was only half-listening. My eyes were glued to a long, blue velvet jewelry box, sitting at the side of Professor McGonagall’s desk.

My Time-Turner. She gave it to me, along with a very stern reminder of the rules I’m to follow. Then she said, "All your third year professors have been apprised of the special circumstances, Miss Granger. However, I warn you here and now, you are not to use any excuse of being overburdened with work. Your assignments are to be completed in a timely and thorough manner. You will be graded as evenly as the other students, and your course load will not be taken into consideration. This is your choice, and no one else’s. Is that clear?" It was a very sharp speech, Gwen, but Professor McGonagall couldn’t help but smile at the end of it, when she put the box in my hand. "This should be an edifying experience. I look forward to seeing what you make of it." And then she took Harry and I back down to the feast.

The Time-Turner is here, in my drawer. I’ll be using it tomorrow for the first time at 10 o’clock AM, when I’ll be turning back from Arithmancy to Muggle Studies, and then again at 10 AM, when I turn back for Divination. AT 10 AM, I have Transfiguration. Then I turn back at 11 AM for Ancient- no, I don’t- yes I do. Ancient Runes. Then I have lunch- oh, no, wait. Then I have Herbology, then I have lunch. No, no, I’m right. It’s lunch first, then.... Care of Magical Creatures. Yes.

Gwen, if you can’t say anything nice–

I will. But I’ve just realized that I’m going to have to draw up a chart of these classes to carry around with me- I thought I could keep it all in my head, but I’m going to need to be very careful. I don’t want to walk into a class where I’m already sitting! It would scare everybody. Okay. But I’m going to be fine, Gwen, really–

Oh, here’s my clever cat! Hello, Crookshanks! He’s such a soft little softy, isn’t he, sitting on my lap- I told him to go check on Ginny and he understood me, honestly. He ran right into the second years’ dormitory. Isn’t he wonderful? Goodness it’s nice to be back in my four-poster. It’s nice to say goodnight to Parvati and Lavender. It’s nice to be home. ‘Night, Gwen.

September 2

Gwen?

I’m in a bad mood.

Well, Ron said something mean. But it isn’t important.

Well, if you must know, it’s Divination class. All my other classes were perfect- I don’t know how I ever managed before without a Time-Turner- I had a very fulfilling day. I love Arithmancy, Ancient Runes is really fascinating, Muggle Studies is an awakening for me, and the third year levels of my other classes are shaping up to be excellent so far.

Except Divination with Professor Trelawney, who looks like an insect and says I have no aura.

Yes. She had us reading tea-leaves, using the symbol guides in our textbooks to interpret what we saw. At first that sounded reasonable, so I really tried to find symbols and translate their meanings. But in the back of my mind I felt irritated somehow- Professor Trelawney’s voice was all floaty, like she was trying to hypnotize us, and there was all this incense smoke. Suddenly I realized that what I was actually doing wasn’t Divination. It was making a guess about the future, based on a bunch of soggy brown stuff in the bottom of a cup. As soon as I looked at it that way, I couldn’t bring myself to take it seriously.

That’s when Professor Trelawney picked up Harry’s cup, and started reading the symbols. Ron hadn’t been able to see anything, but somehow she saw a falcon, and told Harry that means he has a mortal enemy. "But everyone knows that," I heard myself say. She stared at me. "Well, they do," I said. "Everybody knows about Harry and You-Know-Who."

Gwen, I’ve never contradicted a teacher before- not like that. My tone of voice was... well, it was sort of back-talky. I heard myself, but I didn’t really believe it. Neither did Harry and Ron- they were both looking at me like they didn’t recognize me. But I knew I was right, Gwen. Trelawney wasn’t making a prediction, she was stating a given. We learned all about givens in Arithmancy today- they’re the obvious part of the equation. Professor Trelawney was only stating the obvious.

But she kept on with all her drama. She screamed- Neville broke a cup- and said she’d seen the omen of death in Harry’s tea leaves. She’d seen the Grim. Everybody was horrified. Except for me. I walked around behind her, looked in the cup, and said, "I don’t think it looks like a Grim." She glared at me and told me that she "perceives very little aura around me," and that I have no "receptiveness to the resonances of the future." That’s not true–I do too! I can feel things if I want. I just don’t see death omens in a bunch of wet spices, so pardon me. I don’t care. I don’t like her. Professor McGonagall doesn’t either- she said that Trelawney predicts the death of a student every single year and none of them ever die, so I don’t know why Ron was giving me such a hard time at lunch.

Well, we were fighting about the Grim. Harry thinks he saw one the night he ran away from the Dursleys, and Ron’s all worried about him- he thinks Trelawney’s ‘prediction’ is the truth. I think it was just a stray dog. Goodness, that’s all a Grim is, anyway- a big, black dog. If that’s the omen of death, I should be dead a hundred times. Who hasn’t seen a big, black dog? But Ron was all tied up in knots about it- I suppose it’s a very serious sign in the wizarding world- and when I called Divination a lot of wooly guesswork, he burst out, "Professor Trelawney said you didn’t have the right aura! You just don’t like being bad at something for a change!"

We’re not speaking. I’m not bad at anything.

We’re just sitting up here in Gryffindor, side by side, ignoring each other and trying to concentrate on our homework. I have to stop writing, I’ve got so much to do. But I can’t think straight when things are like this. It didn’t help that Crookshanks was down here a second ago– he was just walking around, but Ron gave me a Look. I didn’t want to get into it with him, so I just took my cat upstairs and handed him over to Ginny for a minute. She understands. She knows how Ron gets. I wish he’d apologize, though, because there are other things to worry about- like Hagrid.

Oh, Draco Malfoy only ruined his first ever Care of Magical Creatures class. We have to share those classes with that horrid bunch of Slytherins all year long. First Malfoy made fun of the biting monster books, then he called Hagrid an oaf, and then he managed to get himself attacked by a hippogriff. Wish he’d gotten himself killed. Hagrid had us working with the hippogriffs- giant, eagle-headed horses with huge wings and sharp talons. They’re rather fearsome. You’re never supposed to insult them- you have to bow, and if they bow back, then you can pet them and ride them.

Harry, very bravely, went first. He bowed to a hippogriff named Buckbeak, and Buckbeak bowed back, so Harry was able to ride him. Then Malfoy had a go of it, saying that anything Harry could do had to be pretty easy, so the hippogriffs mustn’t be very difficult to work with after all. And then he said something very stupid to Buckbeak- "You’re not dangerous, are you? Are you, you ugly brute?" That idiot insulted a hippogriff.

In a flash, Buckbeak had lashed out and sliced Malfoy’s arm wide open. Malfoy fell down, bleeding, and started to holler that he’d been killed. Hagrid wrestled Buckbeak into a collar, picked up Malfoy, and ran off to the hospital wing. Pansy Parkinson ran after them- I think she actually fancies Malfoy. Disgusting thought. Anyway, Gwen, that was a really bad thing to happen in Hagrid’s first class, especially because Malfoy and his father both hate Hagrid, and I just know they’ll try and bring charges against him. But why didn’t Malfoy listen? Hagrid told us flat out not to insult the hippogriffs- everybody else heard him- we’ve got a whole class of Gryffindor witnesses, if the Slytherins won’t tell the truth.

That’s why I’m so worried. I don’t want Hagrid to be fired. The only thing I’ve said to Ron all day is "They wouldn’t fire him, would they?" And the only thing he’s said to me is, "They’d better not."

Oh, Gwen-- Harry’s just noticed there’s a light on in Hagrid’s window, and Ron wants to go down and visit him. I guess they can’t concentrate on their homework, either. I do want to check on Hagrid.... but Harry’s not supposed to go wandering around at night because of Sirius Black, so I don’t think–

"I’m allowed to walk across the grounds," Harry just said to me. I swear, I don’t believe in Divination, but Gwen, sometimes we three can read each other’s minds. But I don’t want to go with Ron, he never said he was sorry.

Although, he must be talking to me again! "Aren’t you going to come, Hermione? Here, I’ll do that." Now he’s helping me stack up all my books

They do seem to read your mind. That’s something like a reasonable apology.

Yes– oh, I’m glad we’re not going to be mad with each other–I’m glad we’ve got Hagrid to think about. I guess we’re going down to the cabin. I’ll tell you later how it goes. ‘Bye.

September 3

Hi, Gwen.

Hagrid wasn’t doing very well when we got down there, poor thing. He was very drunk, and fairly sure he’d be fired first thing this morning, (so far, though, he hasn’t been.) Harry and Ron said they’d be witnesses against Malfoy, and Hagrid nearly crushed them in a hug, while I took his tankard away and watched him stick his head in the water barrel to sober up. He’s so disappointed about his first lesson. It’s awful to see Hagrid upset. But he stopped being upset and got angry a moment later, once he’d drenched his head and realized what was happening. He took one look at the three of us, and towed us all right back up to the castle, lecturing Ron and me for letting Harry wander around at night. I told them.

It’s all Malfoy’s fault. Drat Malfoy. He wasn’t in any classes today; he’s faking that his arm’s still ruined. As if Madam Pomfrey can’t mend a babyish little cut like his in two seconds. Pansy Parkinson won’t shut up about it either- every meal all I hear from her over at the Slytherin table is that Hagrid is a "worthless fool" and that Malfoy is being "so brave." It’s enough to make me stop eating, it really is.

I’m not mad about Divination anymore, though, Gwen.

Oh, nothing. It’s just I don’t have time to be worried about whether I’m any good at telling fortunes. I’ve got six other classes’ homework ahead of me tonight, and I’d better get started. See you.

September 6

Finally, a Saturday!

Not at all difficult, just very full. I’ve been looking forward to a free day so I can catch up on my studies and tell you all that’s happened.

First off, let me tell you how amazing this Time-Turner is. I flip the hourglass, and it’s like time dissolves, and I’m flying backwards really, really fast- and then I’m an hour back in time! All I have to do is consult my chart to confirm that I’m off to the right class, and be sure I’ve got all the right books in my bag every morning so I don’t make myself late. It’s easy! My bag is taking a beating, though. I can’t seem to stuff everything into it, and one of the seams split open on Thursday, after Potions, (ugh, Potions, remind me to tell you,) so I asked Ron to hold my books so I could try and fix the tear.

Gwen, I think Ron’s on to me. I made a little mistake going back to Arithmancy and ended up disappearing and reappearing too close together, but I reappeared at the bottom of the stairs when I’d just been at the top- it’s confusing. Anyway, Ron noticed. He’s already said several little things about my schedule, and asks me questions every day about how I’m getting to all my classes. And then, as he was holding my books, he saw that I was carrying about seven that I couldn’t be using that day. Well, of course I was using them, but he didn’t see how that was possible. I wish he’d quit asking about it- it’s hard to ignore him.

Nothing good. Malfoy’s still babying his stupid arm, and so Snape made Ron and Harry prepare all his potion ingredients for him. All the time Malfoy was making nasty cracks about how his father’s going to get Hagrid fired; I heard him saying it from three cauldrons away. And Pansy Parkinson, "How is it, Draco? Does it hurt much?" Sickening. Then Malfoy started going on about Sirius Black– a Muggle woman sighted him nearby to Hogwarts, Gwen! And Malfoy was saying that if he were Harry, he’d be out looking for Black, he wouldn’t be such a coward as to stay in school- he’d want revenge. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Black hasn’t done anything to Harry... yet. Ron said he’s probably just trying to make Harry do something stupid, and I agree. It’s so unfair that Snape won’t shut Malfoy up. If any of us Gryffindors were to taunt the Slytherins like that, we’d all be docked points.

Speaking of which, I lost five points.

Me? I never do anything. Snape’s just a foul, sour, bitter man, and he likes to pick on people. He was picking on Neville, because his potion was a total disaster- it was orange, but Shrinking Solutions are supposed to be acid green. I asked if I might be allowed to help Neville fix it, but Snape just told me to quit showing off. He told Neville that at the end of class, he’d feed some of the potion to Trevor the toad, no matter what color it turned out to be. Well what was I going to do, let Snape poison Neville’s pet? I whispered instructions to him for the rest of the class period, and thankfully, nothing bad happened to Trevor. But Snape took five points because I’d assisted without permission. Beastly, horrible teacher.

But oh, Gwen! Guess who’s not horrible- guess who’s wonderful- for the first time ever- our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! What Professor Lupin did to the dementor on the train was only the beginning- he really knows what he’s talking about- his class is everybody’s favorite already, and we’ve only had it once! It was a real Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and I actually learned something. He brought in a real live boggart for us to tackle! A true practical lesson- I almost died of happiness. When I answered him correctly that a boggart is a shape-shifter that becomes the thing you fear most, Professor Lupin said he couldn’t have put it any better himself, and he gave me five points, so I’ve come out even! I like him.

You like him?

I don’t like him, like him. Honestly, Gwen, he’s a teacher.

I am ignoring you, and changing the subject. Where was I? Oh yes, Professor Lupin, whom I think is a very good teacher, let everybody have a try at tackling the boggart. Everybody except Harry and me, that is. I was a little disappointed not to get to try it- but not too much. I don’t know what I fear most, just like I didn’t know what I thought I’d see in the Mirror of Erised. I think it would really surprise me. Ron said that my boggart would probably be a piece of homework that got nine out of ten, but what does he know about my deepest fear? Would it be the Monster of Slytherin, from last year? Is it getting pulled out of Hogwarts by Mum and Dad? How could a boggart do that? I don’t know. Anyway, watching everybody else fight it was really exciting!

Neville’s was priceless, Gwen. Lupin asked him what he feared the most, and he said Professor Snape, which made us all laugh- even himself. Sure enough, when Lupin let out the boggart, it took the shape of Professor Snape, towering down over Neville like he always does in Potions. But Neville fought! The way to fight a boggart is with laughter- you change it into something funny- so Neville cried, "Riddikulus!" and Snape was suddenly wearing all Neville’s grandmother’s clothes.

The whole class went mad with laughter. I’m sure you can imagine- it was so gratifying- Snape in a dress with a big red handbag! Oh, I still haven’t recovered. The whole school knows about it, it’s the best joke at Hogwarts in ten years, and Neville was so pleased when he managed to make the boggart disappear- Professor Lupin is very good, to use him as an example. Neville really needs that kind of encouragement.

Anyway, the boggart turned into all sorts of disgusting things- for Parvati it was a mummy, for Seamus it was a banshee–for Ron it was a six foot tall spider. Gwen. I think it was one of those spiders like the ones they faced in the Forbidden Forest last year. It had enormous pincers and was covered in hair-- I’ll never tease him about spiders again-- I can’t believe he didn’t lose his mind surrounded by those things. For a second, even though it was really only a boggart, Ron froze up and I didn’t know if he’d manage it. But then he whipped out his wand and yelled, "Riddikulus!" and he made all the spider’s legs fell off–oh, I was so proud of him! I’ll bet our class was the best one Lupin had- not one single Gryffindor backed down.

The legless spider sort of rolled over to Harry, and he was about to try fighting it, when Lupin jumped in front of him and stopped him. I’ll bet I know why. I’ll bet he was scared that Harry’s boggart would be Lord Voldemort, and he didn’t want the whole class to die of fright.

Here’s what I don’t know, though- I don’t know what Professor Lupin’s greatest fear is. The boggart turned into a white globe when he stepped in front of it. Just a white globe- sort of shiny and silvery- hanging in the air. Lavender thinks it was a crystal ball, but she’s just all hung up on that Divination class. I thought it looked more like the moon, but it can’t be that, because the moon isn’t scary. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It was an incredible class. We’re doing Red Caps next week, and I’m so excited! And speaking of Red Caps, I’d better–

What, and have her make that our next lesson? "Class, today, we’re going to divine what Hermione’s written in her diary, using the very trustworthy system of dropping sticks on the floor. If the sticks fall facing the window, then she’s written something nice about her cat. If the sticks fall in a cross, then she’s written something nasty about you." Honestly.

Thanks, Gwen. See you soon.

September 13

Hi, Gwen! I’m very busy, but I had to tell you two things:

One: I almost walked in on myself yesterday!!! I was going back from Charms to Muggle Studies, and I forgot I was going to Muggle Studies, so I went to Charms again. I had my hand on the knob and I was about to turn it, when I caught sight of the back of my own head through the window in the door. At first I thought, "Who’s that? She’s new." And then I thought, "That’s me, you idiot!!" And I ran down the hall as fast as I could, to get to Muggle Studies. So close. But I ended up laughing about it later, with Crookshanks. He’s the only one I can really tell, besides you. I wish I could have told Ron and Harry. It was funny.

Two: The Gryffindor Quidditch team had a meeting tonight, and practice will begin in October!

I thought you’d approve! And now, I have to get back. I have an essay on The Magic of Electricity for Muggle Studies, a set of thirty-six Spelgebra Equations for Arithmancy and a Groundbreaking Charm to master by Monday, an Astronomy star chart and a History of Magic quiz to study for Wednesday, I need to go down to Greenhouse 3 to feed the Tentacula and study its teething process for Herbology, I have two hieroglyphic layouts to interpret for Ancient Runes on Tuesday, plus a Red-Cap Review for Defense Against the Dark Arts, an hour of practicing Transfiguring pill-boxes into pillows, and then eighteen stupid Tarot symbols to memorize for Divination.

But first, I need to go help Neville before he burns his face off with that Peeling Potion he’s trying to work out. Oooh- I need to go NOW. ‘Bye!

September 26

What am I supposed to do about this?

What? No- not that- I’m doing fine with that. I have it all set up. I have a color-coded chart, and I’m neck and neck with my assignments. I told you I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. It’s Ginny.

I found her sitting in the window of Gryffindor Tower a few minutes ago, watching the Quidditch practice, (well it’s not really practice, but they’re down there flying around,) and looking rather... wistful, like she wanted to go down to the field. I told her I was going to go for a minute, and she ought to come with me. But she wouldn’t. She just gathered up Crookshanks, shook her head, and went upstairs.

She likes Harry! Why won’t she just come down to the Quidditch field? He’s never going to get to know her if she won’t talk to him. I want to drag her along and make her.

Ugh, fine. But I’ll tell you one thing, if I ever like anybody the way Ginny likes Harry, I’m not going to be so shy about it.

Yes, we will. Okay, see you later, Gwen, although not very soon. I have a ton of homework, and when I put all my assignments in my Prioritizer, to organize myself for the weekend, I put you in as well. Don’t be mad, but.... it kept putting you as my last priority. I guess, technically, journaling isn’t as crucial as passing the third form. I’m going to have to do my class-work before I can come and chat with you. Sorry.

I won’t! Goodnight, Gwen.

October 4

Hi, Gwen!

Professor McGonagall is so incredible. I’ve been doing some extra research for Transfiguration, and–

Gwen, I have to do research on my own to really understand what I’m learning- what’s the point of going to school if I’m not truly going to come out educated? Anyway, in Transfiguration, we’ve been studying the art of the Animagi, you know, people who can become animals? Self-willed animal Transfiguration. Becoming an Animagus is a huge accomplishment and it’s very dangerous. There are only seven Animagi registered in Britain, because it’s so difficult that you have to be licensed by the Ministry to do it. Professor McGonagall is one of the seven- she’s a tabby cat! Isn’t that amazing? I remember that when I first came to Hogwarts, I read about Animagi and I wanted to be one. I still do. Someday, I’m going to register.

I wish it could work the other way ‘round, you know, so that animals could be human. I’d love to see what Crookshanks would be like! He’d probably want to have a few words with Ron, who keeps shoving him around! Honestly, if it’s that important to him, why won’t he leave Scabbers upstairs instead of bringing him everywhere in his pocket all the time? It’s a pain. But he says "Well, why don’t you leave that cat up in your room, then?" Gwen, Crookshanks is big. He needs space. It’s so frustrating.

Anyway, I’ve got to go.

No, I need a nap, my head feels heavy. I’m a bit tired, I think. Not from my classes or anything! Just from... from being awake.

Er, let’s see.... Wednesday. I turn back twice at ten, once at eleven, then lunch, then a class at two, a two hour lab at three, turn back for another lab, dinner... and then Astronomy at midnight. I usually get to bed at one-thirty on Wednesdays. I used to be able to sleep in on Thursdays, but now I have Arithmancy at nine. Why?

So?

I.... I didn’t really think of that.

Wow. That’s true.

That’s all right, don’t worry, I’m fine, I eat plenty and I get enough sleep–I always get at least six hours–

Six?! Hermione, you have to think, please–

Gwen, don’t, don’t, don’t! I’m fine. I just need a nap, I promise. I’ll talk to you soon.

October 10

Lavender and Parvati are driving me mad.

They spend all their lunch hours up in Professor Trelawney’s classroom, learning how to be ‘true seers’, and when they come down, they’re just insufferable. They’re always asking me if I want them to look over my homework, as if I need them to check my assignments! "Do you need help interpreting your auras, Hermione?" Please. They tell me if I’m having trouble ‘seeing’, they’ve been learning how to ‘unblock the Inner Eye’ and if I’d just like to sit in a circle with them and ‘clear my mind’, they’d be glad to ‘resonate’ with me. It’s insulting.

Throw something at them.

I know. And they’re at it again. I can’t have a nice quiet evening in my room without them offering to read my tea-leaves with me, for practice. They won’t stop going on and on about that class, and it’s so annoy--

Gwen! Oh no!!

Is this what I do? When I offer to help people with their work and tell them they ought to study and practice? Do I do what Parvati and Lavender are doing? Tell me I don’t.

I do. Oh, no.

Actually, no, Hermione. Listen. You can be a bit, er... aggressive about your schoolwork, but it’s a different thing. You’re extremely clever, and honestly want to be helpful to your classmates–

So do they.

I’m not through. Listen. You’re good at everything, my dear. Parvati and Lavender may be very brave, bright witches, but you excel far ahead of them in every other class–

Which probably makes me even worse.

No. LISTEN. The other girls have finally found something that they do well. When they offer to help you, it’s partly because they need to believe they’re better than you at something. Do you understand?

No. Yes. I don’t know.

Well, it’s a tricky subject. Trickier than Divination. It’s psychology. When you offer help, that’s all you’re offering. It doesn’t come off as an insult because you’re confident about your understanding. Whereas when Parvati and Lavender–

Lord it over me.

Yes.

One question, though.

If I’m not annoying, then why does Ron always call me a know-it-all?

Yes, I really want to know.

I don’t.... you ..... that’s not true.

***

Gwen?

D’you mind if I go... think awhile?

Goodnight.

October 15

Gwen, you were wrong about Ron before- he hates me.

Well he hates my cat. We were making our star charts for Wednesday, when Harry came back from Quidditch practice. We started telling him all about how the first Hogsmeade weekend will be on Halloween–

Yes, and you know that Harry can’t go, and I think that’s all for the best, but Ron thinks Harry should ask Professor McGonagall for permission. So we were already at odds when Crookshanks hopped up on my lap with a big dead spider in his mouth, and ate it all up in front of Ron. Ron made a fuss about Scabbers being in his bag, and was revolted by the spider, and told me to keep the cat away. I put my arms around Crookshanks to hold him down. I didn’t want to fight.

Suddenly Crookshanks pounced- I couldn’t hold him! I wasn’t prepared! He landed on Ron’s bag and sunk his claws in, looking for Scabbers. Ron yelled, "OY! GET OFF YOU STUPID ANIMAL!" I yelled "Ron, don’t hurt him!" but he started swinging his bag around in the air until finally he threw both my cat and his rat across the room. Scabbers ran under a bureau and Crookshanks ran after him but I gathered him up around the middle so Ron could pull Scabbers out by the tail. He dangled him in front of my face.

"Look at him! He’s skin and bone! You keep that cat away from him!"

"Crookshanks doesn’t understand it’s wrong! All cats chase rats, Ron!"

"There’s something funny about that animal! He heard me say that Scabbers was in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish. Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else d’you think–"

"That cat’s got it in for Scabbers! And Scabbers was here first, and he’s ill!"

And then he stalked upstairs.

What am I supposed to do, Gwen? I don’t want to fight, but Crookshanks is a cat, and I can’t do anything about his instincts. Now Ron won’t speak to me, and I haven’t go enough sleep, and I just want to cry.

Oh, I don’t have time to cry, and how can I sleep when I’ve still got a tablet to transcribe for Ancient Runes and two chapters to read and summarize about kappas, plus Snape’s a beast and he’s given us about a thousand essay questions to answer! The Gryffindor third years are the only class that got this assignment for Potions, and it’s all because of that thing with Neville and his grandmother’s clothes–

Yes, and he hates Professor Lupin more than ever. But I think, all things considered, that it was worth it to see Snape in a dress. Hah! Just thinking about it makes me feel better. I don’t mind my homework. He can never wipe that image from my mind, no matter how many questions he assigns. You should have seen it.

‘Night, Gwen.

October 16

Hello.

Fine.

I’m not talking to him. That is it. No more.

Divination. And then he insulted me.

Trelawney. She ‘predicted’ in our first class that "the thing Lavender was dreading would happen on October the sixteenth." That’s today. And today, Lavender got an owl from home that said her rabbit Binky had gotten killed by a fox. So now, everybody thinks Trelawney predicted something real. But it’s utter rubbish. I asked lavender if she had dreaded Binky getting killed by a fox. She said, "I was obviously dreading him dying, wasn’t I?" I asked her why, was Binky a very old rabbit? She sobbed no, that he was only a baby. So I said, "Then why would you dread him dying?" She glared at me.

"Well, look at it logically," I said to our class. "I mean, Binky didn’t even die today, did he? Lavender just got the news today, and she can’t have been dreading it, because it’s come as a real shock." I knew it was sort of a mean thing to say, I mean, her rabbit did die and everything, but I couldn’t stand hearing everybody chalk it up to a stupid prediction that was so obviously false! But Ron yelled out, "Don’t mind Hermione, Lavender. She doesn’t think other people’s pets matter very much." I can’t believe he stood up for her.

No, just the warm-up. He hardly spoke to me in Herbology, and not at all in Transfiguration, which is where it got nasty between us. After class, Harry asked Professor McGonagall for permission to go to Hogsmeade. Of course, being a reasonable person who cares about Harry’s safety, Professor McGonagall said "No." She doesn’t want him attacked by Sirius Black, but Ron and Harry don’t understand.

Poor Harry. That is awful, though. He should be allowed to go.

Gwen, do not side with Ron.

Ron didn’t say it like that. He said a lot of other things, though, just to make me angry, and we got in a really bad row- our worst one ever.

"McGonagall’s a sour old bat!"

"Ron, don’t!"

"Well she is, not letting Harry go with us when everyone else is, she’s a--"

"She’s only looking out for him, she’s thinking about his safety--"

"She’s a hag."

"Watch your mouth!"

"I’ll say what I like. She’s a mean, twisted--"

"Stop it! Shut up!"

"–bloody torturer!"

"She’s our Professor, Ron, don’t call her names! She just doesn’t want Harry getting killed and if you were using any sense, you’d see I’m right —"

"That’s right, teacher’s pet —"

"Foul-mouthed--"

"Like you care who gets killed around here, eh? Look at how your ugly cat treats Scabbers- look what you said to Lavender about her dead rabbit"

"That prediction was stupid and so are you if you don’t know it!"

"Here’s what I know-- you don’t have any feelings about anybody’s animals, and you don’t want Harry having any fun, so what kind of lousy friend are you?"

I ran up here after that. I said, "Don’t you ever talk to me again, Ron Weasley," and I ran up here. Harry called after me and I heard him tell Ron to cool it, but I don’t care. Lousy friend? Fine. That’s just what I’ll be. That’s it.

For everybody except you and Crookshanks. And Ginny. She came in here and sat by me a minute, and told me she overheard us yelling down there. She wanted to know if I was all right. I told her "I’m sorry, I know Ron’s your brother, but he’s just awful." She said she knows. I don’t have time for this nonsense. I’m going to ignore everything but school. I’m going to study and do my homework. I’m seven assignments and two hundred pages behind. I don’t need this. I’m through.

October 25

Gwen, I feel so badly for Harry. All anybody talks about is what they’re going to do in Hogsmeade, and it’s killing him.

With Harry. He’s going to be the only third year left behind, and I just can’t stand it for him. I almost feel guilty going myself. I said I’d stay here with him, but he said that’d make him feel even worse. I’m glad he doesn’t want me to stay, because I really, really want to go, but I had to offer.

Some people think so. Some people don’t.

Yes. "Pass the puffapod," in Herbology, and "Move, please," in line for Transfiguration, and "Don’t you touch him!" when he went to shove Crookshanks yesterday. And he said, "Give me that," once, when I picked up his Defense Against the Dark Arts book on accident, instead of mine.

That’s not what I mean. Have you been civil?

Yes. I tried. But he didn’t make an effort, so it didn’t work. He was trying to practice the Geoquatic Charm in the common room- that’s the one where you make water take on simple shapes. I’m very good at it. We have to be able to make a cube, and Ron kept making a globe, so I walked over and said, "Difficult, is it?" He didn’t answer. I said, "Want my help?" He didn’t answer. I said, "Fine, be that way," pointed my wand at his bowl, turned the water into a cube, let it splash down, and walked away. Then he answered me.

He muttered, "Know-it-all." And don’t try telling me it was a compliment.

I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to fight anymore. I really don’t. I know he didn’t mean it, and I just want to forget about it, but he should say he’s sorry, he really, really should! But if he doesn’t, and he isn’t, then who am I going to go ‘round Hogsmeade with? What fun will it be if I have to go with Parvati, or Neville, or Seamus and Dean? I mean, I guess it would be all right, but I want to go with Ron. Why does he have to be so horrid?

What do you mean?

But I don’t want to be the one that apologizes, because I didn’t do anything.

Fine. Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Why do I always have to be the one? Gwen, I’m tired.

I’ve got to finish up the Spelgebra assignments for this section because we’re moving on to Charmetry tomorrow and I still have that nasty Potions essay on Fungal Solutions to do, and it’s already eleven, and I have eight classes tomorrow plus a lab. How, how, how? Okay. Thanks, Gwen, I’ve got to go do this. ‘Bye.

October 30

I’m going to Hogsmeade tomorrow! It’s going to be so much fun. Ron and I are going to go all over, and bring things back for Harry.

Yes. We called a truce, like you said. It’s not an apology, but the fighting was getting old, and anyway, Harry’s problems are worse than ours. I wish he could come with us– even though I am glad he’s going to be safe from Sirius Black. We’re going to go to the Shrieking Shack (the most severely haunted residence in Britain!) Zonko’s joke shop, the sweet-shop, the Three Broomsticks, and everything. Oh, I can’t wait. Ron says I have to try butterbeer, but it sounds odd. He says he’s going to make me, though.

You’ve had it?

Well. Aren’t you just smart.

Yes, and I’ll even bring you with me in my robe! We’re leaving right after breakfast tomorrow — but I’ve made a pact with myself that I can only go if I complete the rest of my Arithmancy chart- I’m charting three Charmetry graphs of elementary spells on a three-dimensional grid, and I have to show where the points meet in space. It’s hard. Plus I promised myself I’d look up everything about Grindylows. They’re next in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And Harry wants me to go over Charms with him, if I have time.

Oh, Gwen, I have to. Harry’s not very happy. Maybe Charms will take his mind off of Hogsmeade.

I won’t! See you tomorrow!

October 31

Happy Halloween, Gwen, and the best Halloween of my life! It was marvelous!

Exactly! I just got back to Hogwarts, and as we’re having the Halloween Feast tonight, I don’t expect to be able to write until later, so I thought I’d just take the time now.

I am so glad that Ron and I made it up before today. It was so much fun with him, honestly. We went everywhere! We followed Fred and George into Zonko’s first. They immediately bought a load of dung bombs and a sack of stink pellets, which course they "accidentally" set off right outside the door, in the middle of a group of fifth year Slytherins. Ron and I ran! Not just because the Slytherins were looking at us like they wanted to kill, but because those things are horribly smelly, really!

We ran all the way to the wizarding equipment shop, ducked inside, and just stood there panting for a minute until I looked around, and saw one of the most amazing shops I’ve ever been in. This was serious wizarding equipment, . This was the kind of thing you wouldn’t see anywhere but Hogsmeade- some of it isn’t even available in Diagon Alley. There were Disappearing Brooms for invisible flying- (and you have to have a special flier’s license to own them because they can actually be used in the Muggle world, but you must avoid interference with Muggle air-traffic! Just think! Last time I was in a plane, we might have been flying past specially licensed invisible wizards, and I just didn’t know it!)

But my favorite thing was called the Art-Official, and Gwen, if I am ever very, very, rich, then I will have one. It is a seven-foot tall, enchanted silk screen, and it’s stretched on a rack. You can call up onto the screen an image of any great painting in history- even those that have been destroyed- and then- oh, Gwen, how is it even possible- you can step inside the painting. I nearly died, I wanted to try it so badly. I wanted to go inside "Starry, Starry Night." But there’s no testing. "You have to buy it if you want to try it!" sang the wizard in charge of the shop. Urgh. Who has the money for that? I imagine Draco Malfoy might, but then, he’d hardly appreciate an Art-Official.

Anyway, we moved on out of there because Ron was absolutely foaming at the mouth to get into Honeydukes, which is a sweet-shop. He didn’t shut up about it from the second we left Hogwarts until the second we walked into the doors and smelled the fresh peanut-butter fudge. Then it was like he lost his mind. He made me try one of everything- he can’t get over the fact that I’m not allowed to have sweets at home, and I think he’s trying to make up for lost time or something. I had a peppermint toad, a packet of pepper imps, a square of fudge, a chocoball stuffed with sherbet cream–

Hermione! You’ll never get to sleep!

– yes, and walking back to school made me sick to my stomach because I’m so full, and I know I’ll never touch the Halloween Feast. We topped all that off with butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, where we also saw an Ogre!

Well, we think it was an Ogre. It could have been, depending how you looked at it. He- or it- or whatever- was sitting in the back-most, darkest corner, drinking from a cup as big as the ones Hagrid always uses, but we couldn’t really see him very well because there was such a vast group of people crowding the place. Ron tried to get back there and find out, but I dragged him up to the counter and told him that if it was an Ogre then we probably oughtn’t pester it, and did he want me to try the butterbeer, or not? So he ordered ones for us both, and you were right, Gwen. It’s wonderful. So warm and toasty, and ever so much better tasting than wine. It’s not very strong, but it’s strong enough, I suppose, because I’m lightheaded. But that could be from the cold, or the sugar, or a hundred other things.

I brought back a sack of Spider-Snax for Crookshanks, and Ron got Fudge-Flies for Scabbers, and that was the only time during the day that we were tense with one another. I guess it’s just better if we avoid that subject. But then we forgot about our pets, because we saw a giant jar of Gummy-Snitches that Harry would just love, and pooled all our pocket money to get about a hundred sweets for him-- he’ll never be able to eat it all. But it’s no good bringing Harry sweets and I know it- he needs to see Hogsmeade for himself. I hope they catch Sirius Black quickly, so he can come with us next time!

Oh, I’ll have to write you more about it later, Gwen, because it’s time for the feast.

November 1

Gwen, I’m in the Great Hall. It’s three-thirty in the morning, and I’m supposed to be asleep, so if I stop writing all of a sudden, it’s because Percy caught me.

What on earth is going on?

The whole school is sleeping in here tonight, in sleeping bags. I’m so glad I had you with me in my robe today — I don’t usually bring you everywhere, but I had you with me in Hogsmeade so— well, that’s beside the point. I’m all the way inside my bag, writing by the light of my wand. But Percy’s Head Boy, and he already said lights out, so I just hope I can tell you everything before he catches me.

Gwen, Sirius Black tried to break into Gryffindor Tower.

Yes, everybody is, except the Fat Lady. He slashed her up in the Portrait Hole when she wouldn’t let him in-- he didn’t have our password. She’s fled from the painting, and nobody can find her. Oh, Gwen. Thank goodness Black picked tonight, when everybody was at the Halloween Feast! Thank goodness nobody was up there- even if the Fat Lady did keep him out, someone could have easily been in the hall! What if I’d been on my way to the library, what if Harry’d been coming in from Quidditch practice-

I know, but so is breaking out of Azkaban, and he did that, too. Everybody’s got a theory, but all of them are rubbish. You can’t Apparate or Disapparate in here, the castle’s completely enchanted against people entering by stealth (honestly, Gwen, if people would just read "Hogwarts, A History", then they wouldn’t suggest these things.) How did he get in and how did he get out? Or is he out? Could he have run into the Forbidden Forest? I’m terrified for Harry- that was just way too close. If anything funny happens, I’m going right to a teacher, I don’t care this year. I can’t believe Black actually made an attempt on our Tower.

We just overheard Professor Dumbledore talking to Snape about it, and he doesn’t seem to understand how this has happened, either. Snape seems to think that someone already inside Hogwarts must be helping Black get in, but who would do that? Dumbledore says he doesn’t think anybody would. But I think Snape’s trying to pin it on Professor Lupin. He said, "I did express concerns when you appointed–" but Dumbledore cut him off.

Snape really hates Lupin, Gwen. Harry thinks he might have tried to poison him, even. Today, while Ron and I were at Hogsmeade, Harry helped Lupin move in the grindylow for the next lesson, and they were in having tea in his office, when Snape came in. He brought Lupin some kind of smoking potion to drink- Harry tried to warn Professor Lupin not to drink it, he told him that Snape really wants that Defense Against the Dark Arts job and would probably do anything to get it, but Lupin went ahead and drank the entire gobletful . He said it was something Snape brewed him for his health–and he is ill, or something, Gwen. He’s thin and pale, and too young for all that gray hair he’s got. But I’m worried about him, now, too. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape- if he brewed me a potion, I certainly wouldn’t drink it- although he wouldn’t poison anyone right in front of Harry, would he?

Oh no, I hear Percy —

November 7

Hey, Gwen.

You are in deep, deep trouble, young lady.

What? What did I do?

Gwen, it’s only been a week!

Check in with me, after telling me something like that! You can’t just say "Oh, by the way, Sirius Black is trying to attack us in our beds," and then leave me in suspense. It’s very trying.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine- I thought you’d know it- I’ve had to study- I lost that whole night after the Halloween Feast, and for me, losing one night is like losing three- I’m so sorry, Gwen!

No. I wish there were, though. It’s all chaos around here- all anybody talks about is "How did Black get in? How did Black get out?" If I hear one more person suggest that he Apparated, I am going to scream. Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff is going ‘round telling everybody that he disguised himself as a flowering bush, as if she knows. A flowering bush, honestly, he’s a mad murderer. I hardly think he’d pick to be a plant.

No, she won’t come back. She’s very brave to stand him off before, but she’s not interested in having to do it again, and none of the other pictures want the job, either. The only one who would take it is Sir Cadogan, and he’s quite insane, which isn’t surprising when you consider that he lives in the North Tower stairs, next to Trelawney.

I don’t want to talk about it. One more death omen out of her.... it’s very, very hard to do my homework for that class because the entire time I’m doing it, I’m thinking, "This is pointless, this is stupid, I’m not learning anything, why am I wasting time?" Especially when I have to research the medicinal uses of Spotted Twiggles for Herbology, map the Underground Broomtunnel System from the age of the Great Persecutions for Professor Binns, compare the discovery of the wheel to the discovery of the wand for Muggle Studies (three feet of parchment, thank you,) and summarize the section on kappas for Defense Against the Dark Arts before we move on. If Trelawney could really see the future, she’d know that we’re never going to need her class for anything, and she’d stop taking up our time.

Don’t say anything. Just don’t say anything.

Gwen, if you say one more word I won’t tell you about the Quidditch match next weekend, and I’m not kidding!

Take it or leave it.

We were supposed to be playing Slytherin, but Draco Malfoy continues to pretend that his wretched arm is hurting him, so the Gryffindor team is going to have to play Hufflepuff instead. Harry says that Oliver Wood is absolutely livid- they’ve been preparing moves for Slytherin all this time, and now they’ve only got a week to change around and get ready for the Hufflepuff defense, or something. I don’t know, but the team is certainly tense, and it doesn’t help that it’s raining sheets every day- they’ve come in soaked to the skin from all their practices. That’s the real reason Slytherin’s backing out- they’re not good enough to play in all weathers and they know it. Malfoy’s arm hasn’t been out of that sling since the first day of class even though I know it’s been fixed all this time- what a crybaby- I can’t stand him, Gwen. He’s ruined Hagrid’s whole experience as a teacher.

No, he hasn’t been fired. But he put away the hippogriffs and switched us over to flobberworms. They’re the most pathetically boring magical creatures we could possibly have to care for. I’d rather deal with Hagrid’s crazy beasts than have to stuff anymore shredded lettuce down the flobberworms’ throats, but Malfoy’s made him nervous- he doesn’t want any other students getting injured. Oh well. At least flobberworms are easy. I need one easy class. No, no, I take that back, I don’t want easy classes- I really want to learn. Okay.

Oh, Neville. Gwen, he’s set his shoe on fire. I have to go.

November 12

Gwen, what a day.

I don’t know whether to cry or hug Crookshanks, or what, so I’ve done both, and now I’m in the middle of four assignments and a chapter on werewolves, but I can’t concentrate. I can’t understand why I’m so jumpy. The wind is absolutely howling, maybe that’s part of it. Harry’s got his match in the morning, maybe that’s the other part. It was such a long day, too. Eight classes, three turn-backs, and I almost got caught time-turning.

I turned back from being outdoors for the Care of Magical Creatures lab with the flobberworms to go to Arithmancy, so when I got to Arithmancy I was soaked through from the rain. But I ought to have been dry because "supposedly" I’d walked straight there from breakfast with the rest of the class. I should have switched them ‘round, but I didn’t think of it. Now everyone in Arithmancy thinks I ran out in the rain on purpose. I must have looked rather odd. Professor Vector winked at me, though-- she knew what was going on-- but still, I wish I could have explained myself. Lately, I’ve been feeling as though I show up in every class a little short of breath. It takes me a second to figure out where I’vejust been, and where I’m going, even though I’ve got my chart– which is falling apart. And my book bag is really heavy, so my back hurts. And I’m not sleeping very well.

Just let me talk. I don’t need the speech. I’m too tired. Defense Against the Dark Arts wore me out today, on top of everything else. After what Snape said–

Snape says he’s ill, but I don’t believe it. I could see right away that Harry and Ron were thinking of the smoking potion that Lupin drank the other day. Was it poison? Snape certainly enjoyed teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He made it the most miserable experience I’ve ever had in there- and that’s saying something after Quirrell and Lockhart. He made us turn to the back of our texts, and started quizzing us on werewolves. Well, we’re only on the fifth chapter! We’re due to start hinkypunks, not werewolves- that’s end of year! But when I told him that, he said, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this class, Miss Granger, not you." I’m used to him saying things like that, though, so when he started asking about the werewolves, I put my hand right up.

But he wouldn’t call on me. He kept making fun of our class for not knowing anything about werewolves, even though we told him over and over that we’d never studied them, and he refused to call on me, even though I knew the answers. He just wanted to be able to pick on us. He didn’t want me to know anything, because it made him look bad. So finally I just said it out; "Please, sir, the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf–" But Snape cut me off.

"That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger. Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

He said that. Right in front of everybody. And I know everybody already thinks I talk too much in class, but Gwen, it’s different when a teacher says it- teachers shouldn’t insult us- it’s awful. I felt my face flush, and my eyes got blurred. I was so embarrassed.

What a horrible man! My poor dear, no wonder you’re so tired today, that’s awful. Teachers should never say such things. He was entirely in the wrong.

Yes, and I knew it, but I would have cried on the spot if Ron hadn’t gone and gotten himself detention.

Yes. I had just looked down at the floor and started fighting tears, when Ron said, quite loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask, if you don’t want to be told?" Instantly, we all caught our breath-- we knew he’d gone too far. Snape gave him detention on the spot for daring to criticize his teaching. I couldn’t believe he dared it, either, and I’m so sorry he got detention, but Gwen–I don’t know, I can’t explain. Ron calls me a know-it-all at least twice a week- he’s the very last person I would have expected....

Nobody said one word to Snape after that, because he’d been driven into such a foul mood. But when he’d gone past my desk and was in the back making snide comments about Parvati’s homework on kappas, I managed to turn around in my seat really fast. Ron gave me a sort of fierce look, like he thought I’d get mad at him for having been insolent, or something. But I just mouthed, "Thank you," and turned back before I got caught. And after class, when Snape gave him his detention, Ron really swore. He called Snape a word I can’t repeat. I said, "Ron!" but I don’t really blame him- after all, he’s in the hospital wing right now, scrubbing out bedpans–without magic. He didn’t have to do that just for me.

When he left the common room tonight to go over there, we were right in the middle of our illustrations of the Aurora Borealis for Astronomy. Our whole class was gathered over by Dean Thomas. He was helping everybody with the drawing because he’s by far the best artist of all of us, but I figured out that if you use your wand almost like a quill, you can blend the colors more effectively. I was just showing Dean how to do it when Ron got up to go to detention. When he got to the door, he grinned and said, "You have to admit, Hermione, you really are a know-it-all." Everybody laughed, and Ron jumped through the Portrait Hole before I could throw anything at him. Gwen, how could that possibly make me feel better?

Yes. Now I’m trying to do two rolls of parchment on the ways to recognize and kill werewolves for Defense Against the Dark Arts- Snape’s making us turn it in by Monday. Two rolls. That’s like six feet. I guess I shouldn’t complain, but I don’t have time for this. Lupin had better not be dead- I don’t think I could bear to have Snape teaching us anything other than Potions- that’s bad enough.

Ugh..... listen to this chapter. I have to turn it into a six foot essay by Monday.

Fascinating. Disgusting. Who cares. I’m going to bed.

I’ll write you tomorrow, though. Wish Gryffindor luck–this weather is completely foul, and I’m just hoping Harry stays on his broomstick.

Okay. Goodnight.

November 13

Oh, Gwen, Harry’s alive. We thought he was killed.

We had the match. Not that there’s anything for you to tell at Miss Vauclain’s–I’m so sorry, Gwen, but the rain made it almost totally impossible to see. It was like watching it happen underwater in the dark. The wind was howling in our ears the whole time so we couldn’t even hear Lee Jordan, or each other for that matter. Ron and I were sitting up with our cloaks over our heads, trying to make a tent so at least we’d be able to squint up at Harry without getting pelted in the eyes by stinging rain, but it was just madness out there. Everybody was screaming and cheering and stamping, but the sounds were getting ripped up from the stadium and eaten by the storm before they even reached the players. I tried to keep an eye on Harry, but he kept almost slamming into people and then spiraling off in the wind.

I knew there was no way he could possibly see the Snitch- he kept taking off his glasses and trying to wipe them on his sleeve, but the rain was horrible. Finally, right as Oliver Wood called a time out, I had an idea! I thought that maybe if his glasses could repel water, he’d stand a better chance. I ran down to the field, and out to the team huddle- Professor McGonagall tried to catch me by the arm but I hollered over the rain, "No, no, let me go, it’s for the team, it’s going to help!" When I said that, she practically pushed me over to them. (She really wants Gryffindor to get the Cup.) I took Harry’s glasses, tapped them and said, "Impervius! There! They’ll repel water!" And then I ran back up, because I thought Oliver Wood was going to try and kiss me, he looked so grateful.

Ew, hush. Harry did fly a bit better after that. The action was still really hard to see, but at least he wasn’t flying directly into anyone anymore. And then he saw it!

Yes, it was, and he went into a wonderful dive alongside Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker. Harry was ahead by just a bit, and he was almost to the Snitch, when something truly frightening happened.

A hundred dementors came gliding onto the Quidditch field, tall and rotting, with their robes dead still, even in all that wind. They had their dark hoods turned up below Harry and Cedric, as if they wanted to suck them right out of the sky. Well you remember how Harry is with dementors- he looked down and saw them- he went slack- his hands came off his broom--

From fifty feet in the air, Harry fell, unconscious, into the crowd of dementors.

There was an enormous scream from the stands and everybody shot up and stood on the seats except for Ron and me- we practically flung ourselves out of the stands and down onto the field to get to Harry. Dumbledore got there first- he slowed Harry down in midair so that he hit the ground with more a dull thud than a horrible crash, and then he shot that silvery cloud out of his wand at the dementors, and all of them went away. I’ve never seen him so angry. I’ve never been so frightened. Harry was flat on the ground, totally cold and white. I burst into tears and grabbed Ron’s arm as Dumbledore magicked Harry onto a stretcher, and then we, along with the whole grim Gryffindor team, climbed back through the rain into the castle. Madam Pomfrey worked on him in the hospital wing for an hour, and I couldn’t stop crying until he’d come to. He really looked dead.

By the way, we lost the game. When Harry fell from his broom, Diggory got the Snitch. It’s the first game Gryffindor’s lost since Harry’s been Seeker.

Well, I can hardly be disappointed about the loss when Harry’s life was at stake. But that is too bad.

Well Harry was horribly disappointed. When he woke up and found out he’d lost, he looked like he wanted to go right back under. And even worse, when the team finally left to give him some rest, he asked us what had happened to his Nimbus Two Thousand. We didn’t want to tell him. It’s really bad. Professor Flitwick brought it up in a sack right before Harry regained consciousness.

When he fell off, it got blown away. It hit the Whomping Willow. Professor Flitwick just handed us the leftover pieces.

Yes. It’s really awful- you should have seen Harry’s face when we dumped the pieces out on his hospital bed. He looked like he’d lost his best friend. But do you know what’s really sweet, though? I came up to Gryffindor afterwards, to change and get dry and start studying, and Ginny knocked at the door. Her eyes were all bloodshot, and she wanted to know if Harry was alive, and if he was, was he very upset about the Nimbus? "I tried, but that tree is really horrid." Apparently, she’s the one who went over to the Willow and picked up all the pieces! I can’t believe she went near that tree. Anyway, I told her that Harry came around, and she just breathed this enormous sigh of relief and said she was going to make him a get-well card-- did I think that was a good idea? I told her yes, I thought it was, rather.

That is sweet.

Isn’t it? And brave. I take it back about Ginny being too shy. She’s fine. But as for Gryffindor-- don’t be too upset yet, Gwen! We’ve still got a chance at the Quidditch Cup if Ravenclaw beats Hufflepuff in the next match. Oliver Wood hasn’t given up- even if he did try and drown himself in the showers after the game. We could still come back and win it.

So do I. All right. Guess what?

Ah, I see you are receptive to the resonances of the future.

Well then, tell them all about it. I know there isn’t much to tell, but you can stretch it out a bit.

‘Bye, Gwen.

November 15

Gwen?

You would think, wouldn’t you, that one year, just one, we could have a normal Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher- somebody non-threatening? Wouldn’t you think that?

Professor Lupin is a very good teacher. He also happens to be a WEREWOLF.

I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. Listen to this:

"Note the patches of severely graying hair, the lines at his eyes, the gaunt figure of his pale facial skin. You may think to look at Vincent Vannery that he is approaching fifty years of age, when in fact, in this photograph, he is merely thirty-two." Okay. That’s from the chapter about werewolves in my textbook. That’s exactly what Professor Lupin looks like. Here’s more:

"The signs of physical deterioration are always most obvious directly following the night of the full moon. On that night, the human subject will always fall ill." The other day, when Lupin got ill? I checked the lunar chart in my astronomy atlas. It was a full moon.

"When he emerges, first note his skin, which will seem to sag slightly from his musculature, and his eyes, which may still retain a yellowish gleam." We had to turn our essays in for class today, and I made a note of his skin. It was hanging off, a bit. I looked at his eyes. They were tinged with yellow. He was clammy and pale.

And beyond that, Gwen, do you remember when we were fighting the boggart? His greatest fear was that silvery orb, and I thought it was the moon- Gwen, it is. That makes perfect sense. He hates the full moon, because it forces him to be "twisted into the violently predatory, four-legged lifestyle of the werewolf."

He’s a werewolf!!!

I am.

I don’t know. I really don’t know. Professor Lupin.... he’s such a wonderful teacher. I’d rather have him teaching me Defense Against the Dark Arts than anybody else. And when I read the whole werewolf chapter and did the six-foot essay, I also learned that there is a potion that makes the werewolf harmless- it makes it so that the human being transforms, but doesn’t become predatory. Wolfsbane Potion, it’s called. That’s the smoking potion that Snape made for him- it wasn’t poison- it was Wolfsbane. It has to be. Which means that Snape knows.... and that’s probably why he assigned the essay.... which means Dumbledore must know, too... so there’s no need to go to a teacher....

Gwen, if I just kept this to myself, would it be a very bad thing? I don’t want Professor Lupin to leave. I don’t want Snape to take over that class. I don’t want our class to fall even further behind in Defense Against the Dark Arts than we already are. And Harry and Ron.... well it’s better if I just don’t tell anybody, isn’t it? I’m not worried, because I know about the potion. But they could panic, couldn’t they? I don’t know. I’m already keeping so much from them this year that it wouldn’t be very difficult just to add this. And honestly, if they’d done their essays, they’d know too. So it’s really partly their own fault if they don’t figure it out, isn’t it?

Not if he’s taking that potion, which I guess he is.

I think they really must. How could Dumbledore not know?

Then I wouldn’t say anything to anybody, Hermione. Werewolves aren’t very well.... understood in the magical world. People are afraid of them. It’s really very sad–werewolves are just people–they don’t choose to be bitten, but once they are, they’re afflicted for life. It’s probably very hard for Professor Lupin to find employment– especially as a teacher. Imagine the flood of Howlers there would be if parents found out a werewolf was teaching their children! If Professor Dumbledore has seen fit to hire him at Hogwarts, then I think..... I think it’s safe enough.

Gwen, you’re really wonderful, do you know that? I’m terribly relieved. I didn’t want to turn him in. I like him, I know it’s not his fault he was bitten, and I don’t think he’d ever hurt any of us. But now that I know he’s a werewolf... I can’t help sort of... keeping an eye out.

Okay. Well I just had to tell you that because when I figured it out in class today, I nearly burst. I couldn’t wait to get back here and write.

I feel a lot better. I do have to go, now, though.

No, no, for once I’m not studying. Ginny’s just come to the door, she wants to know if Harry liked her get-well card. I have to think of an honest way to tell her yes. I think he was rather flattered, but for some reason she made the card so that it would sing whenever Harry opened it. He had it shut up under his fruit bowl the whole time he was in the hospital wing.

Yes, that’s good, okay. ‘Bye.

November 26

Gwen, what am I going to do about Ron?

I mean, I’ve got enough on my hands just now without having to hold him back from trying to kill Malfoy between classes.

Well, ever since we lost the Quidditch match, Malfoy’s arm is suddenly, miraculously healed. What a liar. As soon as he got the sling taken off, he started doing impressions of Harry fainting off his broom. It’s so revolting- Harry really could have died on that Quidditch field- it’s just not the type of thing you make fun about, even if you’re an evil, horrid little nothing like Malfoy. But of course, he gets worse every day, so I shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

But that’s no excuse for Ron to crack up in the middle of Potions class and throw a crocodile heart at Malfoy’s head.

Yes. Malfoy was pretending to scream and faint, "Oh, my scar! What will I do! The dementors are coming to get me!" and of course Snape wasn’t making any moves to stop him, so finally Ron just reached into the supply jar in the back, heaved out a huge, slippery heart, and pegged Malfoy in the head with it. It was so disgusting! His hair was all bloody, black and purple, and the heart got squashed on the floor under Goyle’s massive boot, and Pansy Parkinson was gagging at the sight of it....

Come to think of it, it was rather funny.

But Snape did take fifty points from Gryffindor, and Ron needs to learn to control his temper. Honestly, flinging bloody hearts about the classroom. What next?

To what? Laugh? Go ahead. Harry laughed so hard he had to actually crawl under the desk to keep from being punished, too. Dean and Seamus both put their faces in their cauldrons and snorted, and even Neville, who is usually too terrified of Snape to laugh at anything in his class, pulled his head inside his robe like a turtle and started to shiver with giggles. I was the only one who managed to stay calm. Although thinking of Pansy now, "Oh, Draco, Draco, your hair!" Parvati and Lavender were giggling too, and I heard Parvati say "Oh, Draco!" in a high voice, when she passed Pansy after class. I don’t suppose it was all bad.... but it was a waste of potions ingredients and a silly thing to do, and I just don’t think–

Oh, Hermione. It’s funny.

Okay. Oh, Gwen, it really was. Urgh.... I wish Ron could make me laugh about this nonsense. Eighteen advanced Charmetry problems by tomorrow. It’s really great, and I love Arithmancy, but it’s SO HARD. But Professor Vector says that if we ever expect to understand pre-Magicaculus next term, then we’ve really got to have this down. And I’ve got that Bicycles to Broomsticks section to read for Muggle Studies, and a thousand other things... where’re my notes for Charmetry....

Hey, I have all the wrong– wait just a minute....

No, here they are, but they’re all–oh, no, oh, no, I’ve got all my notes mixed up in the wrong folders! I took them in all the wrong spots. Now I’ve got to tear them out and put them with the right ones, and try to find... where’s my stupid Spellotape... oh, Gwen, this is going to take me an hour to figure out.... why did I do this? How could I get so confused?

This is ridiculous. I’ve got to go get Ginny, she’s got Spellotape and I can’t find mine. ‘Bye.

December 8

Hi Gwen–good news!

Ravenclaw absolutely flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match, so Gryffindor still has a chance at the Cup!

That is good news!

Yes, and I’m just in a good mood in general. Professor Flitwick has his classroom decorated for Christmas already–we walked in today to a roomful of fairies all lit up everywhere. It was so lovely. We worked on Motion Spells all morning, you know, "Mobiliarbus!" where you lift up objects and move them about? And there was a whole crowd of fairies sitting on the globe, spinning it every which way. Parvati and Lavender and I were just enthralled by it, even though the boys were all making fun of us and pretending to think fairies were stupid-looking. They were the ones who looked stupid when we three girls pointed at the globe and said, "Mobiliarbus!" We moved it from the side table into the middle of Harry, Ron, and Seamus– and all the fairies flew up around them, and settled on their heads! One was even swinging from Harry’s glasses! I love Hogwarts at Christmas.

I think I’m going to try and stay here over the holidays again, even though Mum and Dad will probably be upset. After all, I did stay last year, and they’d probably like to see me on the holiday–but Ron and I were talking about it, and we don’t think Harry should be here in Gryffindor all by himself. We’re both writing our parents for permission to stay. I hope they say yes. Want to hear my letter? I just composed it and I think it’s going to be very effective.

"Dear Mum and Dad,

I love you!

Your daughter,

Hermione"

What do you think?

I know, but I just know it’ll work. They can’t stand the thought of anybody alone on Christmas. Ron’s is just as pathetic — not that he’ll have to convince his mum. Mrs. Weasley loves Harry so much she’ll probably ask Ron why he doesn’t just bring Harry to their house for the holiday.

True. But it’s not all silliness- I really do want to keep Harry company, and I really do need to study over the holiday. Two weeks to catch up- it’s like a dream come true. I can’t wait.

Not technically, but I’m barely keeping up and I feel like my brain is starting to refuse information. Does that make sense? I think it’s absorbed all it can for one term, but I have to keep studying anyway. I can’t afford to get backed-up on a single assignment-- Professor McGonagall won’t let me use any excuse of being overburdened with work, remember? I’m not allowed to ask for extra time to finish anything, and even if I could, where would I find extra time?

WHAT?!

Gwen, that’s not funny!

I’m not dropping classes!

No! It’s your sanity I’m worried about. I’ve never skipped a single class on purpose in my whole entire life- except that time in first year when I couldn’t stop crying in the bathroom. That was right before Harry and Ron beat up the troll. Wow, remember that? That seems like forever ago.

No, we’re not. I’m not skiving off anything- Dad always says that commitment is one of the most important things in a person’s character. Once you’ve committed to something, that’s it.

Well, this isn’t the exception. Anyway, I’m not complaining about my class work, I’m just saying it’s a bit challenging, and that this Time-Turner is a lot of work. I don’t mind. I’m sure I can make it through to the holidays if I only–

No- sorry, Gwen, it’s Crookshanks. He just came, knocked my pen out of my hand, and sat right on top of you.

Don’t be mad- he’s been doing this a lot lately with my schoolwork. I think he knows when I’m tired or upset. Sometimes when I’m up really late doing assignments, Crookshanks will jump up, sit right in the middle of my work, and stop me from getting anything else accomp–

Crookshanks, no! Naughty cat! Oh, maybe he’s right. I suppose I am a bit tired, and since I have the whole weekend to study, maybe I should get one good night of sleep. I’ve done almost all my reading, so it’s just written work now.... twelve classes’ worth.... I’m yawning just thinking about it.

Yes, all right. Goodnight.

December 15

Gwen–

I can stay at Hogwarts for Christmas! Ron and I both got owls back from our parents today, and things have turned out just as we planned. We read each other’s responses in Divination–Harry and Neville were both running late, so I paired with Ron. His mum was so funny in her letter- she told Ron if he didn’t stay with Harry he’d be grounded all summer, and gave him strict instructions not to let Harry go wandering around after dark as long as Sirius Black is on the loose. And my mum wrote,

"Dear Hermione,

So everything is perfect, except that Ron had an absolute attack when he read the part about me not being allowed to eat sweets. "You have to, Hermione! We’re going to Honeydukes next weekend and you still haven’t tried ice mice, or sugar quills, or--!" I cut him off. "No, I have to promise, Ron," For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he suddenly grinned, grabbed my hand across the table, and started pretending to read my palm. (We’re starting work on palmistry in Divination next term, and Professor Trelawney is making us memorize the "symbols" with our last week before break. It’s ridiculous, if you ask me.) Ron said, "Hey, Hermione, I forget- what’s the symbol that stands for promises?" I sighed. "It’s a triangle, Ron, honestly, we were supposed to know that by today." I had no idea what he was doing, or I wouldn’t have told him. Ron went over a few random lines on my hand before saying loudly, "This is bad, Hermione. This is really bad."

So of course, Professor Trelawney came right over and sat with us. She just loves tragic predictions. "What is it, my dear? What do you see?" Ron pulled my hand up and showed her. "Look, it’s a triangle marked with a line! She’s going to break a promise- I think she’s going to break a promise to her parents, really soon." Professor Trelawney looked thrilled, even though there isn’t any triangle on my hand. "What kind of promise?" she breathed.

Ron fought to keep a straight face and said, "Don’t ask me how I know this, but I just have this feeling that she’s going to break a promise this weekend, in Hogsmeade. Something to do with..... ice mice." At this point, he was having to grit his teeth and dig his fingers into my hand to keep from laughing, but Professor Trelawney was too misty-eyed to notice anything. She bought right into it and said, "Perhaps you are receptive to the Inner Eye after all," patted Ron’s shoulder, arched her eyebrow at me, and went back to sit with Parvati and Lavender. For heaven’s sake. Ron was sniggering, and I had to kick him under the table to make him let go of me.

You had to kick him?

Yes I did, he was hurting my hand. And Harry walked through the door just in time to see me do it, and to hear Ron hiss, "Ow, stop it!" and try to kick me back, which almost knocked over the table. Harry hurried in, stopped the table from crashing just in time, and said, "What’s wrong now?" That’s when we told him that we’re both staying here for Christmas, and he looked really surprised and happy about it. "Oh, that’ll be great fun, you two trying to kill each other. Seriously, you-- you don’t have to stay. I’ll be okay."

But we know he’s glad. I said, "Don’t imagine I’m doing this for you, Harry Potter. I need to stay here and use the library." And Ron said, "Yeah, and I can’t handle two weeks in the same house with Percy the Bighead Boy." But Harry grinned. He knows we’re really doing it for him.

I agree. Holidays are better at Hogwarts, anyway–oooh, and Hogsmeade at Christmas, too! We’re going on Saturday; it’ll be so brilliant — I wish you were alive so you could come.

I forgot you could do that. You’ve got quite a life in there, haven’t you?

I just wish Harry could come with us. I wish they’d hurry up and catch Sirius Black, because Harry still hasn’t seen Hogsmeade and it’s not fair. Butterbeer and ice mice and Christmas shopping–I’m going to get my parents those Toothflossing Stringmints I saw at Honeydukes–Harry would love it. Of course, I am glad he won’t be out where Black can hurt him. I’ll just have to find a really good Christmas present and make it up to him! I already know what I’m going to get Ron.

A diary. Not an enchanted one like you, though, because if he never writes in it, I wouldn’t want the brain to feel neglected. Just a Never-Ending Notebook that I saw in the equipment shop last time. I’ll show him how to lock it with strong magic, and then he can use it for whatever he wants.

Yes, but I’m going to tell him it’s a journal, not a diary.

He doesn’t know that. Anyway, Gwen, I have to go.

Well, unless you can do this for me: Equate the Transfiguration model t=[1/2(4 x s)] divided by the force of Charm concentration [c x t = (a/5)] to the second power.

Oh, Gwen, I’m teasing — that’s not even a real equation. But yes, I have to go and do my assignment. It’s not very difficult, actually, it’s just that there are a lot of them to do, and I want to be completely finished with this week’s schoolwork before I get in the carriage for Hogsmeade.

I know, I know. Thanks Gwen. I’ll write you after Hogsmeade! ‘Bye!

December 19

Gwen. I don’t know what to do. We’ve found out something so awful, and so sad.... Harry’s completely in shock. Ron and I don’t know how to help him.

I don’t know where to start- I guess this morning, when we left for Hogsmeade. Ron and I went all ‘round the village together so I could do my Christmas shopping, and then finally he dragged me forcibly into Honeydukes because he said the smell of it was driving him mad. So we were in there, joking about whether Harry would like a box of blood-lollipops, or a sack of cockroach clusters, when we heard a voice behind us say, "Definitely not."

It was Harry!! I was amazed, and so was Ron- we knew he couldn’t have gotten past the dementors with just his Invisibility Cloak, and he’s far too young to Apparate, not to mention, of course, that you can’t Disapparate from Hogwarts. It turns out that he came through a secret tunnel. Fred and George gave him something called a Marauder’s Map- it shows every detail of Hogwarts, including the location of every person in the castle, and it also plots out seven tunnels into Hogsmeade. Filch knows about four of the tunnels, one is caved in, one starts directly under the Whomping Willow so there’s no way into it–which leaves just one useful secret passage, and that one comes out right into the cellar of Honeydukes.

Well of course I wanted Harry to turn in the map right away. What if Black is using that tunnel? What if that’s how he got into Hogwarts before? Plus, that map is a magical object that can think for itself- we don’t know where it keeps its brain- its brain could be Sirius Black, the same way that Tom Riddle’s diary brain was Lord Voldemort. I told myself I’d go to a teacher this year if anything funny happened. I should have thought Harry’d take this whole thing with Black more seriously, but he just stood there smiling in the middle of Honeydukes and said, "Are you going to turn me in?" I mean, I know he wanted to come to Hogsmeade, and I wanted him to be there, but Gwen–

I can’t. It’s Harry. Plus, then Fred and George would get in trouble, because they nicked the map from Filch’s office in the first place. I don’t want everybody to hate me. But I would do it, for Harry’s sake, if I wasn’t pretty sure that Black isn’t using the tunnel. Ron pointed out that the Honeydukes owners live right over the shop, so they’d probably have heard him break in last time, and they didn’t report hearing anything. Also, the dementors are patrolling Hogsmeade after dark now- they’d have got Black if he came through the village, wouldn’t they?

You’re right. But for now, I’m not turning in the map. That’s decided. That’s not even the horrible thing I wanted to talk to you about. It’s what we overheard in the Three Broomsticks. We were sitting there having butterbeers when the door opened and a slew of teachers walked in- Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and even the Minister, Cornelius Fudge! Harry choked at the sight of them- Ron and I shoved him under the table- and then I whispered, "Mobiliarbus!" and moved the Christmas tree over in front of us, to hide him. I hoped they wouldn’t sit there very long, but they stayed awhile and had a drink with Madam Rosmerta, and told a long story all about Sirius Black. We heard every word.

What happened was, when Voldemort began to hunt down the Potters, they tried to go into hiding. Dumbledore told them that their best chance to escape Voldemort was to use a spell called the Fidelius Charm. They had to choose a secret-keeper, someone they truly trusted, someone who would never reveal their whereabouts, even on pain of death. Dumbledore offered to be the Potter’s secret-keeper himself. But they chose Black, because they trusted him more than anybody in the world.

If only they’d picked Dumbledore. Or anybody else. Sirius Black was working for Voldemort all along, and he chose the betrayal of his best friends as the moment to reveal himself. As soon as they cast the Fidelius Charm and he was appointed secret-keeper, he went straight to his master and told him where the Potters were hiding. Everyone knows what happened after that. Voldemort found Harry’s parents, murdered them, and then tried to kill Harry–

-- which means that Black had shown his true colors at the exact moment of his master’s downfall. He had to run for his life.

No–yes–I mean, he did it partly because he’s a madman, but mostly because he was trying to get away from Peter Pettigrew, who caught up with Black before the Ministry did. I guess Pettigrew was another one of the Potters’ close friends. He was sobbing, and asking Black how he could do it, how he could betray James and Lily–so Black destroyed him. The biggest bit they ever found was Pettigrew’s finger. With the same blow, twelve other people in the street were wiped out.

Until last summer. Now he’s out, and he’s after Harry–because Harry ruined Black’s life by surviving Voldemort’s curse. Black’s really trying to kill him, too–if he’s fool enough to walk straight into Hogwarts, then he’ll stop at nothing. And Gwen, that doesn’t scare me half as much as the fact that I think.... I think Harry wants to.... I just know he’s going to try..... to go after Black himself.

I know. Ron and I were up half the night talking about it–Harry won’t come downstairs. He’s been in bed ever since we got back from Hogsmeade. He’s stunned. You should have seen his face under the table when the teachers finally left the Three Broomsticks. Ron and I ducked under there with him, and he looked like somebody had smacked him into a nightmare- like he’d drunk poison instead of butterbeer. His parents’ dearest friend–his own godfather–is the traitor that got them murdered. I mean, that’s like — that’s like if Ron were to betray Harry! It’s unthinkable; it’s impossible!

Gwen, can you really be that close to someone, yet turn around and do that? Can you fake that kind of friendship? The Potters were extremely clever, but they didn’t have a clue. They really thought Sirius Black was their friend. What an awful act. Black must have no heart, none at all. Can there really be such evil? I can’t believe it. Harry could never do that. Ron wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. How could Black do it to the Potters? How? I don’t understand.

Oh, Gwen, don’t, don’t, please don’t, I already can’t stop crying. I started as soon as Harry went to bed. Every time I think of his parents- or him, just a baby- or poor Peter Pettigrew and all those Muggles- or Hagrid almost handing Harry to Black at the last moment–

Yes, but he didn’t know any better. Hagrid was the one who pulled Harry out of the wreckage Voldemort left behind, and Black was there, pretending to be grief-stricken, and asking that Harry be given to him, as his godfather. Hagrid didn’t know about the Fidelius Charm- he didn’t know Black was a traitor. He almost handed Harry over, but didn’t–Dumbledore had told him to bring Harry directly to the Dursleys’ house. He did, and Dumbledore put him on their front step, and Harry’s been an orphan ever since. Harry’s really angry that Hagrid never told him anything about this, but I don’t blame Hagrid one single bit. Oh, Gwen, how can Harry face it?

Well, he must not go out looking for revenge, even though I’m sure he’ll want to, very, very badly. You and Ron keep a tight hold on him.

We will. We’re going to tell him to be careful. Ron’s as upset as I am; he’s muttering on and on that he knows Harry will try something dire. We’ve figured out that Malfoy must’ve known about all this, too- remember that day in class when he said that if he was Harry, he’d want revenge? We didn’t know what he was talking about then, but now it makes sense. I imagine the Malfoys think it’s all a wonderful joke. I’ll bet Lucius Malfoy knew that Sirius Black was working for Voldemort all the time. I feel sick, just sick– I can’t think about this anymore. But what do I say to Harry in the morning?

All right. I’ll talk it over with Ron in the morning. Everybody’s leaving for the holidays tomorrow- we’ll have the common room all to ourselves after breakfast.

Yes, but that’s nothing compared to how hard it was for Harry–he must be exhausted from the inside out. I’m certainly very tired. I’m so glad I have a cat right now, Gwen. I do love Crookshanks. He always knows when I need to stop thinking and go to sleep, I swear it, and he always knows when I’m upset. He’s right here in my four-poster, purring and curling up next to me, and I think he’ll let me hug him until I fall asleep. Goodnight, Gwen.

December 20

Hi.

Not really.

He’s determined to do something to Black. He really hates him. Ron and I tried to reason with him this morning, but Harry says we don’t understand. He says that every time the dementors get near him, he hears his own mum being murdered by Voldemort- he hears her screaming.

He says if we heard our mums screaming like that, we wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

Ron said, "D’you want to kill Black or something?" Harry didn’t say no. I said, "Harry doesn’t want to kill anybody, do you Harry?" And Harry still didn’t say no. I’m so scared, I’ve never seen Harry look like that before, I think he’s serious. I cried, and told him to please be sensible, that his parents wouldn’t want him to do it, but he doesn’t care. He just said, "I’ll never know what they’d have wanted, because thanks to Black I’ve never spoken to them." I mean, what is there for me to say, after that?

Ron fought him on it a hundred different ways, but it doesn’t matter. The only reason Harry isn’t trying to break out and find Black right now is because something else dreadful has happened–Gwen, so many bad things have happened in two days, and this is supposed to be the first weekend of our holiday.

What is it?

Well, Ron suggested we go down to Hagrid’s, to try and get Harry’s mind off his parents and Sirius Black. At first it seemed like a bad plan- Harry just wanted to go to Hagrid’s so he could yell at him for never telling him anything about Black and his father. He was in a deadly mood until we got into the cabin and took a look at Hagrid. Then it was hard to imagine anybody yelling at him, even Harry. The poor man was already a wreck, crying into his beard like he’d never stop.

Gwen, it’s that hippogriff, Buckbeak- the one that attacked Malfoy’s arm. Lucius Malfoy has filed a complaint with the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and they’re going to put Buckbeak on trial. He’ll be executed if he’s found guilty. Hagrid’s just beside himself. Nothing we could say would cheer him up- Harry said that we’d be witnesses, I told him I’d help him with a good strong defense, and Ron made a mug of tea- but he just kept on sobbing.

He and his father. I wish they weren’t so foul, but they are. And poor Hagrid can’t even set Buckbeak free, because he’s scared that if he breaks the law, they’ll send him back to Azkaban.

He told us a little bit about his imprisonment there. He’d never talked about it before. Said it was the worst place in the whole world- the dementors almost drove him insane- he just had to relive the worst, blackest moments of his life again and again. That’s what dementors do, he said, they feed on human happiness and energy, and leave you in total despair. I can’t think of a worse kind of prison.

But we’re going to help him with Buckbeak, all three of us! We’re going to the library tomorrow and taking out all the books we can on animal defense and hippogriffs in particular. There has to be a way to make a case for Buckbeak, not to mention that as long as we’re digging through transcripts of old dangerous creature trials, Harry won’t be able to find enough time to plot revenge

You’re a good girl, to help Hagrid and Harry. But... where are you going to find the time?

Somewhere. I’ll just have to, that’s all. It’s Hagrid. And I’m going to get ahead of my studies before term starts, anyway. I’ve already done a full day of homework today, and I’ve still got two weeks left, and I’ve drawn up a schedule to follow–

Hermione, you promised your father that you would have fun.

Gwen–

I’m serious. It’s important that you have fun. I want you to promise me, too.

I can’t promise, but I’ll promise to try, how’s that? I don’t know how much fun it would be anyway, with Sirius Black and Buckbeak hanging over our heads. Thank heavens Ron and I stayed here though–just imagine if Harry had to deal with all this on his own, for two weeks!

Yes, I’m very glad that you two stayed with him. He needs his friends. But Hermione, you’re not getting away with that other bit–"promising to try" isn’t good enough. I want you to swear that you’ll take one day completely off.

A whole day? But–

Gwen............ oh, all right. Since you put it that way. As a gift to you, I’ll put down my studies on Christmas.

But for now, I’m going back through these Muggle Studies notes on basketball. We’re doing a section on Muggle sports. I wish I’d paid more attention when I was a Muggle, because we have to compare basketball with Quidditch, and I don’t know anything about basketball. Maybe Harry does. I’ll go ask him. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?

‘Bye.

December 25

Gwen, help me. Oh, sorry, Merry Christmas.

It’s Harry- he got a Firebolt this morning in his presents.

No, no, not lucky. This is not a coincidence. The broom didn’t just appear. It had to come from someone, and we don’t know who it was- there’s no note, or card, or anything. It’s extremely suspicious, don’t you think? Who would spend that kind of money on Harry- he hasn’t any family but the Dursleys, and they’d never. Why would anybody give him such a gift anonymously? Unless they didn’t want him to know, unless it was a trick of some kind..... Gwen, I think it’s from Sirius Black.

Yes. I remember when Quirrell tried to hex Harry off his broom in first year- Hagrid said it would take powerful Dark magic to interfere with a broomstick. But Black’s got powerful Dark magic. He could have put a Hurling Hex on it, or any number of other curses- it could throw Harry off the second he’s in the air and kill him. Harry’s too impressed that he’s got a Firebolt to ask who sent it. He doesn’t care who sent it, he just wants to ride it. I’m sure Black was counting on that.

Gwen, what am I going to do? I think I have to go to a teacher, but I’m not looking forward to it- not one bit. Not at all.

Harry can’t think of a single soul. And what’s more, there was a Sneakoscope buzzing when the broom was in the room!

Harry. Ron gave it to him over the summer for his birthday. He says it’s a really cheap one from a tourist place in Egypt, but I don’t know. Why would it spin with just us in the room? Those things are only supposed to go off if somebody’s doing something untrustworthy. It was just me, Harry, Ron, and the broom. And it was Christmas morning, so nobody’d had a chance to do anything untrustworthy yet, or I’d blame it on Ron. Maybe it was going off because of Ron.

Well, he tried to kick Crookshanks, really, really hard! He had Scabbers in his pocket, and I had Crookshanks in my arms, and, well–Crookshanks doesn’t know any better, he’s only a cat!!!! I can’t believe that Ron was going to kick him! I was so glad he missed and stubbed his toe on Harry’s trunk– that’s when the Sneakoscope got knocked out onto the floor– anyway, he’s horrid! Crookshanks wasn’t even doing anything!

Yes, it is. He should have thought of that before he tried to kick my cat. There’s not much holiday spirit in this common room, I can tell you. Crookshanks is all shut up in my dormitory, poor thing, and still Ron won’t quit glaring at me. The three of us pretty much threw our presents at each other.

Yes, and he got me three sugar quills- lemon, cherry, and vanilla. He likes them because you can suck on them in class and just look like you’re trying to decide what to write. The trouble is, I actually write in class. I take notes. But of course, he doesn’t understand that. He didn’t really like the Never-ending Notebook, either. He said, "Great, thanks," and dropped it next to him on the couch. Fine. He’ll probably never write a word in it. I don’t care.

And Harry..... Harry’s just sitting here gazing at that Firebolt. I think he’s actually trying to bond with it. I swear, he’s gone over every inch of it a hundred times already, you’d think he was in love with it. I don’t want it to get taken away.... but if there’s any chance it was sent over by Sirius Black....

I don’t want to. I mean, I really don’t. But I’m telling Professor McGonagall after Christmas lunch. I’m so nervous-- Harry’s going to hate me if I get that Firebolt taken away–both of them will hate me. Ron already does right now, and it’s just going to get worse! They’ll never understand how I could turn in a Firebolt, they’ll think I’m just a tattle-tale and a teacher’s pet, and I hate when they think that of me. Or maybe I’m underestimating them, maybe they’ll see I’m right, maybe they’ll be logical. Oh, that’s nonsense, those two aren’t logical–Gwen, how can I do this?

Thank you. That does help. I just wish.... Gwen, why can’t the right thing be easy?

Well, here we go to lunch. I’ll try and enjoy it. See you soon.

It’s over. Professor McGonagall took the Firebolt.

Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

When Professor McGonagall said that it would have to be "stripped down" to look for jinxes... I just wanted to die. I wish there was any other way.

As soon as Professor McGonagall left with the Firebolt, Ron turned on me and just let loose with a yell. "What did you go running to McGonagall for?" I told him it was because I thought the broom might be from Sirius Black. Harry didn’t even turn around. I think he was afraid if he looked at me, he’d kill me. He said, "I think I’d better not talk to you right now," and then he went upstairs to his dormitory.

Merry Christmas. I’m going to the library.

I’m not going to do homework. I’m going to read my book of the month. I have a whole stack of them I haven’t even touched yet because of all my homework, but this month’s seems to be the best for me right now. "Veritaserum: The Tortures of Truth". It’s about the anguish people go through when they’re magically forced to be honest about difficult things. I may not have been forced, Gwen, but I’m sure I’ll be able to relate to these stories. Anyway, I’m going.

Thanks. See you.

December 31

Hi, Gwen.

Oh fine, you know. New Year’s Eve. Just doing a bit of research in the library. It’s been really quiet this week, what with having nobody to talk to. I’ve gotten quite a bit done. Finished my study schedule, and managed to dig up several things for Buckbeak’s case. Everything’s just fine.

Yes. But I’m trying to stay cheerful. I heard Mum say once that your mood at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s is the way you feel all year long. Maybe I should go to bed early to avoid being in a bad mood all year.

Ha. Harry doesn’t say much of anything at all, and with Ron it’s all a fight, every word I say gets twisted. Like today, all I did was ask if he and Harry wanted to go through a couple of things we’re working on in Transfiguration, and he started picking at me right off.

"Don’t try and tell us what to do."

"I’m not! I was just going to--"

"Going to tell McGonagall if we don’t do our homework?"

"Oh, stop it, Ron, you know I wouldn’t do that!"

"Criminal damage."

"What?"

"Stripping down a brand new Firebolt."

"You care more about that broom than you do about Harry!"

"No, I just understand that it’s a FIREBOLT, and you don’t."

"You’re right. I don’t. I’m going to the library."

"Who’s stopping you?"

That’s about the best it’s been. But I know I’m right to have turned it in, and that helps. Professor McGonagall thinks I’m right- she thinks Sirius Black sent the Firebolt, too. And once it’s checked, Harry’ll get it back, I mean, he knows how much Professor McGonagall wants Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup. He knows I didn’t turn the broom in just for fun. You know, I think Harry actually does understand- it’s just that that doesn’t stop his being angry with me. But Ron won’t even try to understand. He always does this- goes off the deep end without using his head, and takes it out on me. I don’t think I can stand one more nasty word from him. I’ve practically been living in the library. I’m done with my homework and I’ve got a stack of notes for Hagrid and Buckbeak, so there’s nothing left for me to do. But I don’t feel like going back to Gryffindor.

You know what I think I’ll do? I’ve just had the best idea! This will put me in a good mood before midnight! I’m going to go down and see Hagrid, and start putting Buckbeak’s case together, and– and maybe talk to him about Ron and Harry, just a little bit.

Me too. And you know what? I think I’ll go back to Gryffindor first after all, and let Crookshanks out of my room. He’s been cooped up in there all week, and it’s not fair on him to be locked up just because Ron’s in a foul mood.

I already feel better. Happy New Year, Gwen.

January 2

Hello, Gwen.

Term starts tomorrow and everyone’ back at Hogwarts so it’s not as bad in Gryffindor anymore. It’s horrible of me, but I was actually glad to see Neville getting distressed over his Motion Charm- it gave me something to do and someone to talk to. I’m all right, though. Hagrid said I can come down to his house whenever I want to- he told me to bring my books and study all I like with him and Fang.

Yes, and it was really nice. I’m so glad I thought of going. We drew up an outline for Buckbeak’s defense, and it really seemed to make him feel better to start piecing arguments together with the facts I’ve gathered. I just know we’ll have a chance at getting Buckbeak released, if we keep working this way.

Yes, I told him that I turned it in to Professor McGonagall and now Harry and Ron aren’t talking to me. He put his big hand on my shoulder and said, "Yer heart’s in the righ’ place, Hermione. Harry’s jus’ disappointed, you understand. He knows yeh did it fer the best."

I said, yes, I understand why Harry’s upset, but what about Ron? I didn’t do anything to him. "Well, he’s pretty loyal ter whichever one o’ you is havin’ a hard time," Hagrid said. "When Harry gets that broom back, Ron’ll let down."

I wanted to ask why Ron doesn’t care that I’m having a hard time, but Hagrid suddenly checked the clock and said, "It’s almos’ midnight! Have some o’that treacle fudge there, and I’ll get us summat ter toast with!" And then he bustled around a minute, got me a mug of cocoa and himself a tankard of ale, and we rang in the New Year together.

Quiet. But I was happy. Hagrid and I got to talking about a lot of things- even about Care of Magical Creatures class. He actually asked my advice! He said the flobberworms were all dead from too much lettuce, and he didn’t know what to have us do with our new term. I told him it might be nice if we could work on something non-threatening, but fun at the same time. We went through the "Monster Book of Monsters: Teacher’s Edition", and found some good ideas- I think Salamanders would be nicest, because it’s going to be really cold, and it’s an outdoor class, so a big bonfire of flame-loving lizards would be perfect!

Both of us were a lot happier when Hagrid walked me up to the castle afterward. He gave me a hug at the door when I told him I didn’t want to walk through our common room and get ignored by Harry and Ron. He said, "You go on, Hermione. Yeh’ve got nothin’ ter be worried about. And yeh can come an’ see me whenever yer feelin’ lonesome." So I put my shoulders back and walked to Gryffindor, through the common room. Obviously they were fine celebrating without me. They’d pulled some crackers, and they were playing Gobstones. Harry said, "Happy New Year," but he didn’t look up, and he didn’t mean it. And Ron just said, in a narrow sort of voice, "No books? Thought you were holing up in the library,"

I would have told him where I was, but his tone put me off. "No, I wasn’t in the library," I said, and went for the stairs. "Well where were you, then?" he demanded. Just then, Crookshanks leapt up next to the Gobstones set, arched his back, and practically started spitting fire at Ron, who immediately swiped at him hard with both hands. But Crookshanks very easily escaped, and jumped up in my arms. My cat knows that Ron is an idiot. I said, "It’s none of your business where I was, is it? Happy New Year." And then I went up to bed.

Yes, and at least everyone’s back from holiday. I was going crazy this week with the silent treatment. Stupid broomstick. I just heard Harry telling Wood about it. Boys are all the same. Wood looked like he’d be sick when Harry said that the teachers are currently stripping the Firebolt down. Not a thought for Harry, just worried about the Firebolt. Oh, that’s rich. Wood just told Harry that he’s going to go find Professor McGonagall and "make her see reason." I’d like to hear that conversation. I need a laugh. I do hope Harry gets his broom back before the match next month, though. He really needs it, to make up for what happened last time with the dementors. He’s still upset about missing that Snitch.

He was unconscious!

Try telling him. He won’t forgive himself. I heard him telling Wood that Professor Lupin is going to be giving him anti-dementor lessons until the match, so he’ll be prepared to fight them if they come back again. Won’t that be fascinating? Harry’s going to learn so much! I don’t even know what stops dementors. I should look it up- I should look it up tonight, because when term starts tomorrow, I won’t have much free time for doing personal research, and we’re probably not going to get to dementors in Defense Against the Dark Arts until we’re older. They’re far more difficult than grindylows and kappas and things. Anyway, I hope Harry won’t actually have to fight any dementors at the match. Professor Dumbledore won’t let them come back again, I hope.

Well, I’m off to the library. I want to find out what stops dementors, and then I want to get to bed a little early. It’s my last chance to do that for awhile. ‘Bye, Gwen.

January 3

I am so glad to be back in classes!

It’s funny, though..... it seems like there’s a lot more homework today than there ever was before... but that’s probably just because I’ve been on holiday for so long. Anyway, I got ahead of my work over the break, so I’m not worried, and Gwen, I feel much better about everything– I missed being in school!

No, no, don’t be. It’s a lot easier to handle the cold shoulder when there are a million other people to talk to, and a million assignments to do. Although it is really weird to be in classes with Harry and Ron and not be talking to them. I kept turning around to tell them things, but then I’d see their faces, and I’d remember.

Let’s hope so. You know, it’s really irritating that they have a grudge at all. I mean, for heaven’s sake, they’re punishing me because I want Harry to survive his next Quidditch match, not just win it. He has enough to contend with on a normal, non-jinxed broom, what with those dementors trying to suck him out of the game.

Oh, speaking of that- I found out about dementors! I went to the library and looked in the "Giant Book of Counter-Charms", and there’s only one listed under dementors. It’s called a Patronus. I guess that’s the silvery thing that Professor Lupin shot out of his wand on the train, and Professor Dumbledore used on the Quidditch field. The incantation is, "Expecto Patronum!" and when you say it, a sort of protective force takes shape and projects out of your wand, forcing the dementors to distance themselves. Each Patronus takes a unique shape, which is particular to the person who summons it. The Patronus is made up of all the things a dementor feeds on- hope, energy, and joy- but it can’t feel despair, so the dementors can’t hurt it. You have to be concentrating on one extraordinarily happy memory to produce a Patronus. You also have to be a very powerful qualified wizard.

Harry can’t make a Patronus. I mean, maybe a really little one, but nothing that could really knock out a dementor. I don’t know if that’s what Professor Lupin is going to try and teach him, but it’s well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level, and even beyond the N.E.W.T.’s, so I don’t see how he’s going to be able to do it. I mean, Harry’s fairly good in Charms, but this is the kind of magic that even the best seventh year students would have a really hard time doing. I don’t even know if I could do it very well. I’d love to take those anti-dementor classes with Harry. Too bad I can’t talk to him about anything anymore. Too bad he and Ron have to be such a couple of prats.

I just let out the biggest sigh, Gwen. Lavender looked over here and said, "What’s the matter with you?" I hope that she and Parvati don’t think this is a good opportunity to start reading my aura again. Not that it would be very difficult to read. I mean, even Crookshanks can read my aura when I’m like this, can’t you, Crookshanks? Can’t you? Yes, here you are, my sly little cat! Here he is, Gwen!

No, just coming to rub his head on my arm and make sure I’m all right. He heard me sigh. He’s a good boy. Not like some of the ones I know.

Anyway, I have to go, Gwen.

I think your Inner Eye might need testing. You completely misread the events of my future. I’m not going to study. I’m off to Astronomy. It’s eleven thirty-five, and I have to climb up to the top tower in a minute. Remember when Harry and I took Norbert to the top of that tower? I’ll never forget how hard Hagrid took it when he lost Norbert. He says he thought about that a lot in Azkaban.

I know. But we’re going to save Buckbeak, Gwen, I just know it. Hagrid’s not going to lose any more of his pets. Oh, and guess what? Hagrid did the Salamander lesson today, and the bonfire was a great idea. It was the best class he’s had yet- I think it really helped restore his confidence as a teacher!

I hope that doesn’t mean he’s going to start back in with those big scary creatures he likes.

I suppose I should. But I don’t care if he does- I gave his hand a squeeze when class was over and said, "Well done, Hagrid!" And he said, "Yeah, I s’pose that’s a bit more like it!" It’s nice to see Hagrid smiling.

Oh, Gwen, it’s eleven-fifty. I have to go! ‘Bye!

January 7

What’s happening? How is this possible?

My teachers- my classes- why is there twice as much work as last term? I swear there’s never been this much before. What are they doing? Three days of class, and already we’ve covered everything I managed to get ahead of over the holidays, and there was a lot that I got ahead of! What is this going to mean on Monday? Am I going to.... to fall behind?

Well, Hagrid really just needs to concentrate on committing the facts to memory, so I’m collecting the facts for him.

They were, but I’m not going to bother reminding them of anything. Anyway, Harry has Quidditch practice almost every night, and Ron... well, it’s probably better if I just do it alone.

You’re still fighting??

We’re not even fighting. I just don’t talk to them, and they don’t talk to me.

I can’t believe it. It’s been two weeks!

Two weeks and one day. And counting. But that doesn’t stop us from throwing little jabs at each other. The first day back in class, after Defense Against the Dark Arts, I heard Harry and Ron talking about Professor Lupin. Ron said, "Still looks ill, doesn’t he? What d’you reckon’s the matter with him?" And I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, honestly, they ought to have figured it out by now. He’s was ill at the full moon on Christmas again.

"Tuh."

"And what are you tutting at us for?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, you were, I said I wonder what’s wrong with Lupin and you--"

"Well, isn’t it obvious?"

"If you don’t want to tell us, don’t"

"Fine."

Then I walked away, and heard Ron say to Harry, "She doesn’t know. She’s just trying to get us to talk to her again." Well yes I do know, Ron Weasley, and no I don’t want you talking to me. I don’t have time for talking anyway. I really can’t write anymore, Gwen, I have to get this work done or I’ll scream.

January 14

Gwen, I think I’m sick.

I can’t get warm. I was boiling up all day today, and now I’m freezing, and I can’t see my notes because my eyes keep blurring up.

No. She’ll keep me overnight and I’ll lose time on my studies.

I’ll get better, I’ll be fine, I shouldn’t have said anything. Hey, guess what? Slytherin beat Ravenclaw in the match yesterday, so that means if Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw next month, we’ll get to play for the Quidditch Cup!

But Gwen–

Oh, don’t you stop talking to me, too! Please, you have to let me finish my Rune translation first at least- she won’t let me get it done up there and it’s the last thing I have to do tonight. I’ll go when I’m done, I promise. Gwen?

Gwen?

Perfect.

January 15

Yes, I went, and I feel better, so start talking to me, Gwen, or I’m going to–

I’m fine.

I wouldn’t know, they still don’t talk to me. They were talking about me today, though. "How’s she doing it? Getting to all her classes? I heard her talking to Professor Vector, that Arithmancy witch, this morning. They were going on about yesterday’s lesson, but Hermione can’t’ve been there, because she was with us in Care of Magical Creatures! And Ernie Macmillan told me she’s never missed a Muggle Studies class, but half of them are at the same time as Divination, and she’s never missed one of them either!"

Ron.

If you can explain him to me, Gwen, I’d appreciate it. I don’t understand him at all. I just ignored him and went down to Hagrid’s- I don’t need another fight about the Firebolt. I asked Hagrid to explain it, since he used to be a boy, and he said that this isn’t really a fight, it’s more like a testing time.

Well, he said that all close friends have to go through rough periods with each other, and in the end, when things work out again, the friends either come back together or they move on. I said, "Well, what do you think will happen to us?" And he said, "Oh, I’ve seen my share o’ great friendships. An’ from what I know of you three, yeh’ll come back together jus’ fine, and be stronger fer the fightin’."

So do I. He practiced his opening statement (revised version- really very good!) while I did my essay on Undetectable Poisons for Professor Snape. Four feet of parchment. And now I’ve got another one to do for Professor Lupin, and that’s only a foot, but still, my fingers are hurting. They’re chapped from the cold, and from writing so much, and my fingernails are all black, because I can’t get the ink out. Ugh.... they look disgusting.

Yes, they have it in Hogsmeade, why?

Ginny does, I think. Fred and George brought it back for her as a joke. She doesn’t like it.

You used Frog Spawn Soap? But you.... but you’re Guinevere!

It just doesn’t seem very... well.... romantic.

I’m not romantic. But really? You think I’m like that? Like you were?

Gwen, do you know what? That makes me feel better than anything has in three whole weeks.

‘Bye, Guinevere.

January 20

Hello, Gwen.

Harry still does not have his broom back, because even though Oliver Wood went and pleaded for it, Professor McGonagall still somehow thinks that Harry’s safety is more important than Gryffindor’s Quidditch chances. Imagine that. Wood said that she got "a bit shirty" with him. Ha ha ha. However, all this means that they’re still not talking to me.

It’s not quite a month, it’s twenty-six days, and yes, I’m fine, because I was right, and I know I was right, and that helps. I have the library, I have classes, I have Hagrid-- I don’t need them. Everything’s perfect except for the fact that without me up in Gryffindor, Neville is probably going to fail every class except Herbology, and the fact that going down in the snow to Hagrid’s every day doesn’t seem to be improving my cough.

It’s nothing, Gwen. It’s just a cough.

I think Hagrid’s getting really good with Buckbeak’s defense! I’ve made him memorize a lot of facts, and he’s really been working hard. I’ve started quizzing him in a debate format, and he can usually answer my questions. If he can just remember that our precedent is the hippogriff-baiting of 1831, not 1813 (they executed that one,) and if he can stop crying every time he says the word "Buckbeak," then I think he stands a good chance.

For a cough? Are you kidding me? I’m not going back up there. Last time I went up there she shook her head and narrowed her eyes and said, "Yes, I know all about you, young missy. I warned Professor McGonagall about giving you that Time-Turner. I’ve a good mind to make you sleep for three weeks!" She’d do it, too! I can’t go.

Gwen, why did you have to say that?

Now I have to go. But if she keeps me overnight, I’m going to go crazy doing make up work, I swear I am, and it’s going to be all your fault!!

Hermione Granger

January 31

It is necessary, when examining the concept of electricity, to understand life without magic. This lifestyle is commonly referred to as Muggle Living. Muggles, or non-magical humans, do not posses powers that allow them to do even the simplest things, such as providing light, without the use of crude implements, such as matches (or, even further back in time, the use of flint-stones.) Muggles cannot conveniently light their wand-tips, as those in the magical world do so often, or exercise even the most basic fire spell. In an effort to make light convenient, therefore, Muggles have learned to harness the force of Electricity, and they have found that not only has light become a less complicated issue, but–

Gwen? Is that.... is that you?

Well of course it’s me, who else would it be?

I thought.... I thought this was my Muggle Studies parchment. Sorry.

Habit. It’s a habit. Muggle Social Habits. No, that was my last essay. Wait a minute, what day is this?

Hermione! It’s the last day of January- it’s Wednesday- what’s wrong with you?

It’s Wednesday? It’s... it’s ten-thirty. Okay. I’m fine. I have Astronomy at midnight, I’m fine, I haven’t missed anything, I’m okay. Okay.

Did I... yes. I did. And by the way, thanks a LOT! I told you this was going to happen, didn’t I? I’m losing my mind! I told you she’d make me go to sleep, and I was right, but you made me go, and Madam Pomfrey slipped a Knockout Solution into my Pepperup Potion and kept me up there all weekend! I lost a whole WEEKEND. Do you have any idea what that means? ANY IDEA?

I think I’m getting the idea, thank you very much.

Well good, then maybe you won’t make me go up to the stupid hospital wing anymore, and take up all my time!

Well, now I’m EXTREMELY behind!

My telling you to go to Madam Pomfrey is no different from you telling Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. I did it only because I care about your health and safety. If you can’t see that, then you’re behaving as poorly as Harry and Ron.

NO I’M NOT!!!

DON’T TALK TO ME, I’M BUSY!!!

Gwen?

Gwen, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m awful, I’m worse than those stupid boys, please don’t be mad with me, I can’t stand to have anybody else mad with me, I don’t even want to go to Astronomy until you forgive me, I’m just under too much strain, and I think I’m starting to–

I didn’t, I didn’t–I just snapped at you, because I’ve been dying to snap at somebody for so long.... I’m so sorry, really, Gwen. There’s no excuse. I’m horrid.

Oh, thank you, Gwen! You’re the most wonderful diary in the world. I’d never make it through this year without you, really I wouldn’t. I don’t know how you can forgive me, I’ve been such a brat.

If they ask. I really want them to.

I hope so. I have another one due for Arithmancy and they’re both due next Tuesday. They’re two rolls of parchment each. I can’t believe I thought you were my parchment. I’ve really got to organize my brain.

Yes, you will. ‘Bye, Gwen.

February 1

I got in trouble today, in Professor McGonagall’s class.

I fell asleep.

But it was my choice. Oh, it was so embarrassing. I woke up to Neville hissing, "Hermione, Hermione!" and I realized that my head was down on my textbook. I snapped it up again, but Professor McGonagall was already looking right at me. "Miss Granger?" she said, as if asking for an explanation. "I’m so sorry–" I started, but she cut me off. "Meet me in my office after your final class today. We will need to discuss this." I could feel Ron and Harry looking at me. I’ve never fallen asleep in a class in my life. Oh, why did it have to be Transfiguration? Why couldn’t it have been History of Magic? Everybody falls asleep in there, and Professor Binns doesn’t even notice.

Only until two-thirty! But then this morning I had Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, and Divination at nine. I guess by Transfiguration I was already worn out.

Oh, don’t, please. I’ve had enough speeches today. After lunch we went to Care of Magical Creatures. The whole time we were down there, I was terrified I was going to fall asleep and stick my head in the bonfire. Before I could go back up to see Professor McGonagall after class, Hagrid took me aside and asked if I was all right. "D’yeh think yer tryin’ ter do too much, Hermione? I’d clean forgot about that Time-Turner, what with all the help yeh’ve bin givin’ me and Beaky. Don’ you come down here anymore. I don’ wan’ you spendin’ yer time on me. Yeh need ter sleep."

Oh, Neville told him. I heard him say it. Neville knows I’ve been visiting Hagrid a lot lately, because he’s been wanting to know why I’ve been in the common room so rarely this term, so I guess he thought Hagrid might know what’s the matter. "Do you know what’s wrong with Hermione?" he asked.

"Why?" said Hagrid, "Wha’ happened, Neville?"

"Well, she fell fast asleep in Transfiguration," he said, "And I thought that was really strange, for Hermione."

"Yeah," Harry added. "She’s been looking really tired." And Ron said, "She passed right out. D’you s’pose she’s sick?"

Well, I told Hagrid that I’m fine, and of course I’ll still help with Buckbeak’s case, and it’s just I had a cough recently, but now I’m all better. And then I had to go and see Professor McGonagall, which was even worse.

"Miss Granger, I’ve heard from Madam Pomfrey. She says you have been to see her twice. Are you ill?"

"Not anymore."

"How are you faring with your Time-Turner? Still managing?"

"Yes, Professor, and I’m horribly sorry I fell aslee–"

"Miss Granger, I know that you are dedicated to your studies. That is why I asked the Ministry to make an exception in your case. But I hoped you would learn something above and beyond your class work from this experience."

"What’s that?"

But she didn’t answer. She just looked at me a moment and said, "All right. Continue as you are. But I warn you: stay awake in your classes, or I shall have to ask you to drop one." I’ve disappointed her, Gwen. She made an exception for me and I can’t live up to it. I was so upset that I couldn’t think of anything to say, and the first thing I said didn’t make any sense at all, it just came flying out of me.

"Please, Professor, when are you going to give Harry back his Firebolt?" Professor McGonagall blinked and looked surprised. "His Firebolt is currently being tested for a Hurling Hex. It will be finished in three days." I let out an enormous sigh of relief. "Oh, that’s such good news!" I said. "Really? Three days?"

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "I take it this has been a difficult month," she said. I didn’t look at her, but I nodded. "Very well, Miss Granger. Three days. You are excused."

No. I’m not telling him anything. He and Ron can come to me. I want to see what they’ll do. I want to see how they’ll act when they’ve got the stupid Firebolt–I want to see how they’re going to explain why it was more important than me.

Well? I’m mad. Now that I know everything’s going to be fine, and he’s going to get it back, suddenly I’m just so mad! I was right! And they shouldn’t have ignored me all this time!

Oh, Gwen–you are the best.

February 5

Gwen!!!!! The Firebolt is back!!!!

Not quite, but it will be in a minute, I’m just sure of it. Professor McGonagall was just in the common room looking for Harry, and carrying the broomstick! Harry wasn’t here, but when Ron saw the Firebolt, he sprang up and followed Professor McGonagall out of the room– and as he left, I saw him look over here. I think he looked guilty. I bet they’ll be back any minute.

A month and a week and four days. But it’s over, it’s over–and the Quidditch match isn’t until the end of the month, so Harry’ll have plenty time to practice on it and everything–oh, thank heavens!

Yes! They’re back, and Harry has it–oh, everybody’s mobbed him and Ron, they can’t believe it’s a real Firebolt! Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins are just going to be sick when they see Harry on that broom! I’m so glad it’s okay, I’m so glad it’s not cursed, I’m so glad I turned it in so I wouldn’t have to worry!

They’re coming over here! What do I say?

Do you know what? I don’t care. All they have to do is talk to me, and everything will be fine in two minutes. I don’t want to fight anymore. I have to go. ‘Bye!!

I give up. It’s over. Things couldn’t be worse. Right when they were about to get better, and now it’s ruined, and Ron’s never going to be my friend again, not ever. But I’m not going to let him see me cry!

It is. And we were friends again, sort of, for about one second. Harry was grinning, holding up the broom, and Ron said, "See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!" And I said, "Well, there might have been! At least now you know it’s safe!" And then Ron ran upstairs to put the Firebolt away and give Scabbers some rat tonic. Harry was sitting with me, actually asking about my classes and looking at my pre-Magicalculus number chart, and I was about to tell him why I like Arithmancy so much- Gwen, it felt so nice, just talking.

And then it all came crashing down again. There was an incredible yell from upstairs, and everyone in the common room got silent, and watched as Ron came hurtling down the stairs, waving his bedsheet. It had blood on it. And some of Crookshanks’ hairs were up there on the floor. And Scabbers is.... missing.

There is NO EVIDENCE that Crookshanks ate ANYBODY!!!! Scabbers cold be anywhere- he could be hiding- those cat hairs could have been up there since Christmas- anyway, that’s what I told Ron when he came down shaking the bloody sheet in my face. He was so angry that I wouldn’t admit Crookshanks ate his rat, but Gwen, how can I admit something if I’m not even sure it’s true? And anyway, I am not ABOUT to apologize to him for ANYTHING! He hollered at me in front of everyone, and threw the cat hairs down on my Rune homework, and said if I didn’t say I was sorry, then I could just forget about talking to him anymore. I said, "Oh, some threat! I’m used to it! You’ve been horrible ever since Christmas, and you’ve been prejudiced against my cat since Diagon Alley, so just go away!"

Then I grabbed up all my things and ran before I burst into tears right there in Gryffindor. I heard Fred Weasley let out a low whistle when I slammed open the Portrait Hole, but I didn’t care what kind of scene I was making. I ran all the way to Hagrid’s with all my books, and when I got there, I must’ve looked terrible. Hagrid didn’t say a word. He just made me a cup of tea, sat down next to me, and waited. Finally I burst, "Hagrid, I just want to scream out and hit something!"

"Go ahead," he said, and held out his huge palm, face out. "I won’ feel a thing. Give us yer best try, Hermione."

I couldn’t strike Hagrid. But it was such a dear gesture that I just broke down sobbing like an idiot. I told him all about the Firebolt coming back and almost having friends again, Crookshanks and Scabbers, and Ron accusing me. I cried on and on, and the whole time Hagrid got me tissues and patted my shoulder. If he wasn’t here at Hogwarts, I don’t know what I’d do. He says he understands why I’m sticking up for Crookshanks; after all, look at what he’s doing for Buckbeak! He knows I’m just attached to my cat. But he says I have to be very patient with Ron right now, if I can, because "It’s hard, losin’ yer animals."

Gwen, I really, really hope somebody finds Scabbers. I’m sure... I can’t believe... I mean, he’s not eaten, is he? Oh, please don’t let him be eaten. I can’t take it.

Whether Scabbers is eaten or not, apparently he is missing. I know you’ve had a very rough time lately, but try to hold on. This is going to be a difficult time for Ron. It’s very hard when a pet dies–

He didn’t die, he disappeared.

Yes, all right. But you know that in time, Ron will recover. I’m sure he values you more than a rat.

He didn’t value me more than a Firebolt.

Well, that’s how it feels. I’m just.... I know he’s feeling bad, but I’m sorry. I’m not apologizing for anything unless he can prove Crookshanks did it. I’m sick and tired of him taking everything out on me. And even if he proves it, I’m not apologizing. Crookshanks is only a cat, he didn’t know any better, it isn’t my fault, oh Gwen, I didn’t want Scabbers to get eaten!

But Ron says that I never kept a close enough watch on Crookshanks, and that I practically murdered Scabbers. I feel dreadful. I’m furious, too. What a rotten, horrid, awful, terrible term this has been. How am I supposed to get anything done? How am I supposed to translate Ancient Runes when I’m so frustrated that I can’t see straight?

Me either. And I’ve still got a summary to do for Divination, before we move on from Palmistry- nonsense, it’s just nonsense, I didn’t learn a thing in this section, and this stupid summary is supposed to be include the way in which we "See" ourselves using this information in the future.

You know what? I’m not doing it.

No. If Trelawney gets upset, I’ll tell her I saw my future, and I was fated not to finish this assignment. If she doesn’t believe me, I don’t care.

No. I’m fed up with everybody who won’t be sensible. I’ll use the time to work on Buckbeak’s case–Hagrid’s been so good to me–I really want him to win it. I’m going to stop Buckbeak being executed if it’s the last thing I do. I do care about other people’s pets besides my own.

I wish.... I wish other people could see that.

Will he? Another month like this one, Gwen, and I think I’ll crack. It’s so hard.

Okay. One more tablet of Runes first, though. Goodnight.

February 14

I CAN’T STAND HIM!!!!

If you could SEE him! Every time I come in the room, he turns his back to me. Every word I speak, he says, "D’you hear anyone Harry? I don’t." And Harry just goes along with it!

I was at a table in the common room today, and he sat down. He’d never have sat there if he’d seen me, but I had an enormous stack of books hiding me, and he didn’t know I was there until he banged his knees into mine under the table and I said, "Ow." Then he got up so fast that all my books fell down and messed up my History of Magic essay, on which the ink was still all wet, so now I have to recopy the whole thing! AND I DON’T HAVE TIME! I blew up.

"Look what you DID!"

"No, look what YOU did! Admit it! Admit it was that cat!"

"It wasn’t! You’ve got no proof!"

"He’s GONE!"

"He’s probably hiding from YOU because you’re so MEAN!"

"HE WAS EATEN!"

"Have you checked under everyone’s beds? Bet you haven’t!"

"I don’t have to! I KNOW where he is!"

"Good, then go and fetch him and stop yelling at me!"

"STOP ACTING INNOCENT!"

"I am innocent Ron! I didn’t touch your rat."

"It’s your fault anyway! You never took me seriously about that animal you call a pet, and now HE’S KILLED SCABBERS!"

But I refused, point blank, to acknowledge him anymore after that. He said all sorts of scathing things, but I just hummed very loudly and went on recopying my essay. Finally he left, first slamming his fists down on the table, which upset my ink bottle all across my Arithmancy equations, so now I have to recopy them as well!

That’s when Harry turned to me with an incredibly bad choice of timing and said, "Look, Hermione. You’ve always been really logical. I’m not blaming you or anything, but you have to see that all the evidence points to Crookshanks–won’t you just admit that maybe–"

"Okay, side with Ron, I knew you would! First the Firebolt, now Scabbers, everything’s my fault, isn’t it! Just leave me alone, Harry, I’ve got a lot of work to do!" He shook his head and shrugged and walked off upstairs after Ron, of course. I saw him leave a couple minutes later with his Firebolt. His Quidditch match is next weekend, but I don’t think I’m going to make it.

I DON’T THINK I’M GOING TO MAKE IT.

Like he’ll care. They don’t notice what I do anymore unless it’s something to yell about. This is miserable. I hate them for sticking up for each other, and never for me. I’m going down to Hagrid’s.

February 19

Thank heavens for girls, Gwen. We’re the only reasonable people in the whole world, we really are.

Ginny Weasley. She has sense in her head. Today, she found me asleep in the common room with my face in my Astronomy atlas. Harry and Ron were both in there, too-- they saw me-- I mean, everybody knows I’m out of my mind with studies. But Ginny is the only one who bothered to wake me up and help me get upstairs with all my things. She doesn’t hold anything against me just because I happen to be fighting with two of her favorite people. Only a girl could act like that.

She didn’t just help me up, either, she wanted to make sure I was really all right, and we had a long talk about everything. She actually thanked me for getting Harry’s Firebolt taken away and tested; she said, "If you hadn’t done it, I would have had to. I told Ron to leave you alone about it, but he doesn’t listen to me about important things, because I’m younger." I said, "You’re only a year younger," but she shook her head and said, "It doesn’t matter. It makes a big difference to- to both of them. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay." I told her I was, and then I said, "Ginny? You’re not mad about Scabbers, are you? I know he was in your family for a long time, and I..... I’m sorry if you’re upset." I won’t apologize to her brother, but Ginny was the very first person to see any of this from my perspective!

Is she upset about Scabbers?

She said, "Well of course I’m sorry he’s been kill... that is, I’m very sorry that he’s missing. Ron was really fond of him." Which is obviously true, even though he always used to act like he hated Scabbers. When I told Ginny that, she said, "Well, I know it’s dumb, but that’s how he always acts when he likes things. So it’s too bad Scabbers is gone. But no — I’m not mad about it — I don’t think it’s your fault, Hermione."

And when I said, "Thanks," in a very trembly sort of voice, she gave me a hug, and asked if I wanted to sit with her at the Quidditch match next Saturday.

Probably not. Why bother. But I told Ginny that if I do go, I’ll definitely sit by her. If the world were all made up of girls, it would be nicer, wouldn’t it?

Yes. I have to go finish this star chart. I’ve got to quit falling asleep everywhere like this, it looks terrible. Talk to you later, Gwen.

February 24

We won. Harry was incredible. We’ll be playing Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup in the spring. You should have seen it.

I went. But I don’t have any time to tell you details, and I’m so, so sorry, Gwen. If you could see the size of this book I’m reading, you’d understand.

It doesn’t mean anything. I feel worse right now than I have all week. But I had to see the match. It’s Harry. And he flew on that Firebolt better than anybody I’ve ever seen, and he even made a Patronus–

Not really. It was Malfoy and a bunch of lousy Slytherins, standing on each others’ shoulders, dressed up like three dementors. They were hoping to distract Harry, so that Gryffindor would lose. But even the sight of three fake dementors was enough for Harry-- he shot a silvery thing out of his wand–a really decent Patronus! It knocked Malfoy to the ground and all the Slytherins fell all over themselves. Ginny and I both gasped when we saw the dementors and laughed when Malfoy came tumbling down– I’m glad I sat with Ginny. It’s really interesting to watch her watching a Quidditch match. She gets extremely excited but she doesn’t really cheer, she just sort of fixes her eyes up there and holds her breath. And when Harry caught the Snitch to end the game, she was just shining.

I didn’t cheer the way I usually do- I didn’t have the heart for it, and I’m so tired. But it was a great match. The Ravenclaw Seeker is actually a girl, for a change! I thought that was wonderful. Her name’s Cho Chang, and she’s really good, but Harry was better, and Gwen..... oh, I wish I had time to tell you.

Thanks. Afterwards, all of Gryffindor was down in the common room celebrating, except for me. I was in the corner, trying to read "Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles", when Harry actually came over and tried to talk to me.

"Did you even come to the match?"

"Of course I did, and I’m very glad we won, and I think you did really well, but I need to read this by Monday."

"Come on, Hermione, come and have some food."

"I can’t, Harry. I’ve still got four hundred and twenty-two pages to read. Anyway.... He doesn’t want me to join in."

That’s when Ron said, "If Scabbers hadn’t just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them."

And that’s when I burst into tears and ran up here with my book. And they don’t even care. I have to go.

February 25

Gwen, Gwen, Gwen-- I can’t stop shaking–

No. Not sick. Listen to me. Sirius Black got in here tonight.

All the way in. He was right here in Gryffindor- all the way up inside the boys’ dormitory- in the third years’ room- and he- he ripped open Ron’s bed-curtains with a big knife and Ron woke up and saw him- Sirius Black almost killed him- he almost killed him and Harry- he almost killed everybody–

I’m in the common room. Everybody is. I woke up with a start when I heard Ron yelling– there was all sorts of noise as everybody woke up, and we all came downstairs in huddles. Ron was in here gasping at Percy, and Percy was telling him it was nothing but a nightmare, and then Professor McGonagall showed up and wanted to know exactly what was going on, and Ron yelled, "IT WASN’T A NIGHTMARE! PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

I think I fell on the couch. I know I put my hands over my mouth. Professor McGonagall said, "Don’t be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?" But he had gotten through. Sir Cadogan let him, because he had all our passwords, a whole list of them, on a slip of paper.

It happened because ever since Sir Cadogan took over for the Fat Lady, he changes the password about five times a day–I told you he’s insane. And they’re all really ridiculous words, and it makes it really hard to remember all of them, all the time. And.... and Neville Longbottom.....

No. He had to write all the passwords down. And then he lost them. He must have left them lying somewhere. Oh, the only person who feels more shaken than Ron right now is Neville. He is in so much trouble. Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to obliterate him. Neville looked like he’d died. Ron just looked.... he looks.....

Gwen, it’s not right that I can’t go over to him. I feel.... there’s not a word.... it’s like a bruise, inside. He’s sitting by the fire with Harry and Ginny and all his brothers, and he’s so pale. How can we not be speaking through this? Sirius Black, with a knife–I can’t stand to think–he and Harry are so lucky, so lucky to be alive.

I can’t. I can’t. I would, but.... he’s still being stubborn, even after what’s happened. After Professor McGonagall left to conduct a search of the castle, everybody settled down and started waiting. It was tense and quiet, and I didn’t know what to do. Finally, I chanced a look at him. He was looking at me. For a split-second I thought–but then he dropped his eyes.

Hold on, Gwen. Professor McGonagall just came through the Portrait Hole.

***

Black escaped again.

Yes it is. He’s gone- the staff has been searching the castle all night. It’s already light out. It’s six in the morning. Everybody’s going back to bed. How can they? Aren’t they wide awake? I want to go to Hagrid’s, I don’t want to go to bed. How can anybody sleep, after Sirius Black just tried to.... I’m going to go to the Owlery and send a note to Hagrid to come up and get me right now. I can’t just go down there by myself. Students aren’t allowed to leave the castle unaccompanied by a teacher anymore, Professor McGonagall just told us there are new security enforcements on all of us.

But it is tomorrow, and I’ve got to get to Hagrid’s. I need to cry really badly and I can’t do it here. Don’t worry, Gwen, I’ll check in with you later and let you know I’m all right. ‘Bye.

February 26

Hi, Gwen, I’m fine.

No. But they fired Sir Cadogan. The Fat Lady came back, and there are security trolls around our Portrait Hole entrance, guarding her. Hagrid says I’m not to come down and visit him anymore until Black is back in Azkaban. Although actually, Black won’t be going back to Azkaban if they catch him. The Ministry says that if the dementors find Black at this point, they have permission to perform the Dementors’ Kiss. It will suck out his soul through his mouth. That sounds absolutely horrifying, but if there’s one person who deserves it, it’s Sirius Black. After what he did to Harry’s parents.... what he almost did to Harry and Ron....

But I told Hagrid I have to come down to his cabin this week- we have to polish the last bits of Buckbeak’s case. The hearing is this Friday, in London. Hagrid needs me. He said I’m not to set foot out of the castle unless he fetches me himself, though.

We have to win that case, Gwen. We have to. Hagrid’s been so good to me. The other night, after what happened, he came right up to the castle when he got my owl, and took me down to his cabin. He let me cry myself to sleep, and then he carried me back. I want him to win, Gwen. He’s been there for me every time I’ve needed him this year. He has to save Buckbeak.

I hope it’s enough. Well, I was really just meaning to check in, Gwen. I’ve got to go. I have all of yesterday’s homework to catch up on, because after Hagrid brought me back, I was out like a light all day long.

I’m behind from Friday. I still haven’t finished that Muggle Studies book, and I was supposed to be done with it today. And I have a Potions pre-test this Friday, and I’m responsible for pruning the Tickling Ivy in Herbology, and.... oh, never mind, it looks worse when I write it down. And I’m still exhausted from yesterday. But I can’t afford to fall asleep in any more classes, so I don’t know what to do... maybe if I asked Parvati to put a Freezing Charm on my eyelids so they’d stay open–

Yes, you’re right. I’ll do that. Once I’ve finished my studies. Goodnight, Gwen.

March 1

Hello, Gwen.

I’m tired. And I’m nervous for Hagrid. He and Buckbeak left for London tonight on the Knight Bus- I’ve just come back from his cabin. We’ve done all we can. He remembered the answer to every question I asked him, and he didn’t cry once! I’m so proud of him! If he does that tomorrow before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, then they’d have to be crazy to execute Buckbeak.

The only thing that worries me is Malfoy’s dad. He’s going to be there, too, and I’m sure he’s probably bribed and threatened every member of that committee–if he could make the Hogwarts governors suspend Professor Dumbledore last year, then certainly he could blackmail a lot of people at the Ministry.... but they wouldn’t listen to him, would they? Not when there’s a life at stake..... would they?

You’re right. I won’t have any word from Hagrid until after the trial, and I do need the time back, to concentrate on school. I don’t know what to do about school. I can’t keep up. I’m trying so hard, but there’s- it’s like- I actually can’t do it. There’s no way. And I’m making every effort I can. This has never happened to me before, and I don’t know what it means, or what to do. I won’t be able to go to Hogsmeade the day after tomorrow, that’s for sure. I’m just hoping that, without Buckbeak’s case to worry about, things will level out again.

But what’s the point? Who’ll I talk to? Neville, I suppose. Not that there’s anything wrong with Neville, he’s perfectly nice. Oh, no, but he’s not allowed to go to Hogsmeade anymore–poor Neville. Professor McGonagall won’t let him. And he got such a Howler from his grandmother yesterday, for writing down those passwords... I wish Ginny were in third year. Then she and I could go ‘round Hogsmeade together.

It’s not the cold shoulder anymore. It’s just over. I gave up on it, and I told Hagrid so the other day. All I could think about the night Sirius Black broke in was that Ron and Harry might have been killed, and our last words to each other would have been terrible ones, and all because of a broomstick and a rat. So it’s over. I’m not trying anymore. There’s nothing I can do to make them talk to me, there’s nothing I can do except apologize for Scabbers– which I won’t. Anyway, it’s been too long. Two months and six days. They aren’t ever coming around after that. I told Hagrid that I’m just too tired to keep waiting.

Told me he had half a mind to drag those two down there and "knock some sense into their ruddy heads," but I begged him not to talk to them about me. I don’t want them knowing I’m still this upset, when they’re obviously not. He says he just wants to help them straighten out their priorities. "Yeh’re in a righ’ state, that’s what, an’ I’m not goin’ off ter London without doin’ somethin’ abou’it."

Well, I saw that Harry and Ron got a note yesterday at breakfast, and it looked like one of Hagrid’s. I wonder if he tried to talk to them? Oh well. If he did, it didn’t work. I knew it wouldn’t. I told him that there’s nothing he can do. Their priorities are pretty obvious. They just want to be popular and have fun.

Yes-- Ron’s become some kind of celebrity at school, ever since his near-death experience, and it’s gone to his head. I mean, you should hear the version of events he tells now, whenever he’s asked about Sirius Black. I heard him giving the most ridiculous speech to a bunch of second year girls today, something like, "I was asleep, and I heard this ripping noise, and I thought it was in my dream, you know? But then there was this draft... I woke up and one side of the hangings on my bed had been pulled down.... I rolled over.... and I saw him standing over me... like a skeleton, with loads of filthy hair... holding this great long knife, must'’ve been twelve inches... and he looked at me, and I looked at him, and then I yelled and he scampered."

Have you ever, in your life, heard such nonsense. Scampered? Honestly. As for Harry, well, he just doesn’t care about his life at all. Not one bit. Doesn’t think Sirius Black is a threat, doesn’t care that his parents died to save his life; he just wants to go to Hogsmeade and run about and have fun. I heard him talking to Ron about taking that secret tunnel into Honeydukes again this Saturday, and Ron and I got in a whole new fight over that, if that’s even possible.

"Harry! Harry, if you go into Hogsmeade again.... I’ll tell Professor McGonagall about that map!"

"Can you hear someone talking, Harry?"

"Ron, how can you let him go with you? After what Sirius Black almost did to you! I mean it, I’ll tell–"

"So now you’re trying to get Harry expelled! Haven’t you done enough damage this year?"

At that moment, Crookshanks leapt up onto my lap and hissed, and Ron looked at him so furiously that I grabbed up my cat, and fled. It really doesn’t look like things are ever going to clear up between us. I wish Ron would get a new rat and stop being hateful. I wish I could tell him I’m sorry about Scabbers.

I’m so sorry about Scabbers. I know Ron always pretended to hate his rat, but I mean, that was his only pet, and now he’s..... The more I think about it, I... I think Crookshanks probably did eat him. I mean, he’s still missing. He must be dead. And I’m sorry about that, I really am.

It’s too late. If he can’t see reason, I shouldn’t have to. And I’m not talking to either of them as long as they keep being so stupid- I really will tell Professor McGonagall about that map if Harry goes back to Hogsmeade. We may not be friends anymore, but I still don’t want him killed.

I’ve written far too long. I’m not going to Hogsmeade if I haven’t caught up, and I don’t think it’s possible to catch up. It’s not possible. I’m going to fail something, aren’t I? I guess it was inevitable. Professor McGonagall is going to hate me, and I’ve got paper cuts on all my fingers.

You’re not going to fail anything! You’ve worked far too hard this year to give up now. I’m right behind you– you can do this. Go on.

Thank you. I can do this. There has to be a way. I’ll talk to you soon, Gwen.

March 2

Gwen, there is no way to do this. But I’m going to Hogsmeade tomorrow anyway, because there is simply no point in missing an outing for some of these assignments– for Divination? I have two chapters from the Preparing to See section of "Unfogging the Future" and eight make-up entries for my "Personal Prediction Journal". I haven’t written a word in that thing for two months and we’re supposed to write in it every week, and she’s checking it on Tuesday–forget it. No. I’m going to Hogsmeade.

I’ll just wander around by myself, I don’t care, it’ll still be fun. I’ll write you tomorrow, I’m bringing you with me.

Now I’m going to attempt the following assignments for twelve classes, in one night. Are you ready to hear this?

I have to:

1. Finish practicing Piercing Charms
2. Write a summary on the dangers of unlicensed animal transfiguration
3. Study for a quiz on the Glutgut Goblin Coup of 1789 for History of Magic
4. Read preparatory chapter to "Vampire Studies" for Professor Lupin
5. Complete the questions following the "Theorem of Wand-Force" chapter for Arithmancy
6. Make a pie graph of time spent by Muggles doing basic household chores
7. Transcribe, using my Rune Dictionary, ten ancient tomb-markers
8. Turn my notes on the Tickling Ivy into an essay on its development
9. Memorize the recipe for a Cooling Concoction
10. Illustrate the Pegasus constellation for Astronomy
11. Nothing, thank heavens, for Care of Magical Creatures

12. Nothing that I consider pressing for Divination

I like to finish my work before I go out and play, Gwen, you know that.

I’m listening.

Yes. What’s your point?

Erm..... okay.

Well.... yeah. Okay. That’s good. I’ll do..... let me see... 1, 2, 4 and 5 tonight. That way I can go to sleep by midnight, maybe. Hogsmeade will be nicer if I’m not exhausted.

Well, I–well, yes. Yes it will.

I appreciate the suggestion, Gwen. I’m going to go do my four assignments.

See you tomorrow.

March 3

Hi, Gwen! I’m in the carriage, on the way back to Hogwarts.

It started raining a bit, so the horseless carriages came to Hogsmeade Station for those who wanted a ride back.

It was all right. I mostly wandered around by myself, but I’m glad I went. I’m sitting here with Parvati, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Hannah Abbott. I was going to ride back with Seamus and Dean, but Lavender looked daggers at me and climbed in with them herself, and Parvati dragged me away. What’s going on there, I wonder?

Do you think so? How funny! Not that there’s anything funny about Seamus and Dean, just that.... you know. Seamus and Dean? Now I can’t stop laughing! With Lavender? I never really thought about it, I mean, I never noticed her.... noticing. She’s very giggly and girly, but I didn’t know she was.... Now I’m going to watch. That’s so interesting. D’you think one of them likes her, too? I’ll ask Lavender tonight, I’m sure she’ll tell me if I want to know, she and Parvati are always trying to get me to be a girl.

Well, they try and get me to do my hair and things. Remember first year, my mum got me that bottle of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion? It’s just been sitting in my trunk. I took it out the other day when I was going through and trying to find my Revealer, and Parvati grabbed it up and said, "Why don’t you ever use this? This stuff is wonderful! Here, let me do it." But I shooed her. It’s easy enough for her and Lavender- they have perfect teeth and nice hair, both of them. I just try not to think about that kind of thing, if I can help it. Anyway, never mind. I won’t ask about Seamus and Dean. It’s none of my business, and.... and I don’t want them to ask me anything.

Well you know. When you ask somebody who they like, don’t they usually.... try and ask you back? I don’t want to talk about it.

I know — I could talk to you if I did. But I don’t. Oh, guess what happened? Guess what Harry did, even though I told him I was going to turn in that map? He went to Hogsmeade! He doesn’t have one ounce of respect for school rules, or his own life. I can’t believe it. And he’s in trouble too, because he was stupid, and he got caught. Justin and Hannah and Parvati are talking about it right now, but they don’t know what really happened. I expect that I’m the only one who does.

Well, Malfoy came screaming into the Three Broomsticks to find a teacher, and he was yelling that Harry Potter’s head was floating in midair outside the Shrieking Shack. Apparently, "ghosts" were throwing mud at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, while Ron laughed at them, and then, "mysteriously", Harry’s head appeared in the air. Well, it’s obvious what happened isn’t it? Harry wore that Invisibility Cloak so he could go ‘round with Ron, and he decided it would be really funny to play a trick on Malfoy, as long as he was invisible. He flung a bunch of mud balls at him and Crabbe and Goyle, right outside the Shrieking Shack, trying to scare them into thinking that ghosts were after them.

Yes–I was in the Three Broomsticks when they came in- they looked absolutely terrified. And when they explained what had happened, I had to go to the ladies’ room to keep from having a fit. Partly because I wanted to laugh at Malfoy for being such a baby, but mostly because I wanted to find Harry and Ron and strangle them both. I’m really worried, Gwen. Harry could get expelled for this, if anybody knows. It’s not likely that anyone will believe Malfoy–but Dumbledore knows about the Invisibility Cloak, and if this gets back to him....

I don’t want Harry to get expelled. But Sirius Black is not a game. I just hope they get in trouble without me having to say anything–but not enough trouble to get kicked out of school, just enough to keep Harry from going back to Hogsmeade. I’ll wait and see what happens. But I’m angry with them, Gwen. How could they take it so lightly? I know they don’t care what I say, I know they just think that I butt in to everything, and ruin everything, but if they’d just be safe and sensible, then I wouldn’t have to! It’s not like I want to turn in the map! They’re driving me to it!

I’ll wait and see what happens with Malfoy before I do anything, though.... I’ll see if they get in some kind of trouble before I decide. I’m sure that, as we speak, Harry is running like mad to try and get back to the castle before we do. Nobody listened to Malfoy’s story in Hogsmeade, but I heard him saying he was going to go straight to Snape when he gets back to the castle. If Snape goes looking for Harry, and he’s not back....

Why do I care? I don’t. Let him get expelled. I told him. And I’m tired of worrying about people who aren’t my friends anyway. I saw Ron coming toward Honeydukes, and the instant he saw me he pivoted right around and went to Zonko’s instead. Harry was probably right there with him. Let them go right ahead and get expelled–

Ow! The carriage just hit something and I got thrown right into Justin, and now Hannah’s looking daggers at me. Not her too? This is getting ridiculous. I’ve got to go, we’re almost at Hogwarts. I’ll write soon! ‘Bye!

Gwen, I just got the most horrible news. Help me.

This note. It was waiting for me, when I got back from Hogsmeade, and it’s covered with tear stains.

"Dear Hermione,

We lost. I’m allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.

Execution date to be fixed.

Beaky has enjoyed London.

I won’t forget all the help you gave us.

-Hagrid"

No, I’m not. I’m not.

What is there to do? Hagrid isn’t back yet, I can’t do anything for him. Poor, poor Hagrid. How could they convict Buckbeak? How? They should have dismissed it on the strength of our case- Lucius Malfoy is to blame for this, I know it- I hate him, I hate him, I’ll never forgive him! There’s going to be an appeal, but I’m sure he’s got that committee all wrapped up. Why is it like this, Gwen?

It’s terribly unjust.

I can’t stand it. My heart hurts, Gwen. We tried so hard, but it didn’t even matter. They’re still going to take Buckbeak’s life. All I want to do is go down to Hagrid’s and cry, but he’s not there, and I’ve got nobody else.

No. I can’t go to them.

Well..... they still care about Hagrid, after all.

I think they still care about you, too.

No they don’t. But you’re right. They should know. I’m going to go and find them. I don’t know where they are- they’re not in the common room- but I’ll bet they’re in trouble- Malfoy probably already went to Snape about what happened in Hogsmeade. I guess I’ll go walk in that direction.

Gwen? What if they’re... still awful to me? I really don’t think I can–

Okay. See you later.

March 4

Gwen? Will you just listen a minute? Don’t say anything.

It’s about Harry and.... and Ron. After I talked to you yesterday, I went looking for them, to tell them about Hagrid. I found them coming back from Snape’s office, looking really upset, like they’d just gotten in loads of trouble. And the second Ron caught sight of me, he yelled, "Come to have a good gloat? Or have you just been to tell on us?" I cringed. I was already having a hard time keeping back tears. But I was already there, so I figured I might as well just say what happened.

"No, I just thought you ought to know.... Hagrid lost his case. Buckbeak is going to be executed. He- he sent me this." I held out the note and Harry took it. He and Ron read it. And then Harry looked up at me, and there wasn’t any fighting in his voice when he said, "They can’t do this. They can’t. Buckbeak isn’t dangerous."

Right there, I knew I could at least count on him. Just his saying that much was encouraging- I knew I could talk to him about the rest of it and I felt a lot stronger. But Ron wouldn’t give in. He just stared down at Hagrid’s note, looking grim and not saying anything. But I hadn’t expected him to say anything. I wasn’t surprised.

I concentrated on Hagrid and Buckbeak, and spilled out everything to Harry. "Malfoy’s dad’s frightened the committee into it. You know what he’s like. They’re a bunch of doddering old fools, and they were scared. There’ll be an appeal, there always is. Only I can’t see any hope...." I felt myself starting to cry, and I wiped my eyes. "Nothing will have changed."

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Ron said, "Yeah, it will." His tone was really fierce, and I looked up at him fast, wondering if he was about to yell at me or something. But he didn’t. He looked back at me, and said, "You won’t have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I’ll help."

I literally gasped.

I’ll help. And he hadn’t called me Hermione in two months, it’s just been "she" or "her" or "you"– I felt like my insides went to pieces– I don’t know how it happened, but the next thing I knew, I cried, "Oh Ron!" and flung my arms ‘round his neck and broke down sobbing. All the awful tension between us just melted while I cried for Hagrid, and Buckbeak, and the relief of having my friends back again. I really couldn’t get hold of myself for awhile. I think I startled him–he sort of patted me on the head like he didn’t know what to do with me–but he didn’t push me away, not even a little. Just stood there and let me cry.

When I let go, Ron looked as relieved as I felt, and Harry looked rather astonished. I was still in tears, so I didn’t have time to be amazed at myself, I just choked out, "Ron, I’m really, really sorry about Scabbers." I hadn’t planned to say it, but I realized I wanted to tell him– I didn’t care about who was supposed to apologize to whom. I just didn’t want anything else nasty between us, not ever. And I know he felt exactly the same, because he didn’t do any of his normal things- he didn’t tell me to admit I’d been wrong, or say "I told you so." He just tried to make me feel better. He said, "Oh–well–he was really old. And he was a bit useless. You never know, Mum and Dad might get me an owl now." And he smiled at me.

And right then, everything was completely and totally forgiven, for all three of us. We started talking about what we could do to help Hagrid, and we talked all night–we talked all night!!! I haven’t talked that much in months, and I haven’t ever felt so easy with the two of them, everything we said to each other seemed.... truer than before, like there was something underneath it. Like we.... got older, or something.

Gwen, does any of this make any sense? You can talk now.

Perfect sense. I’m just.... I’m so... Hermione. I hoped so much that you three would make amends. It just wouldn’t be right any other way.

No, it wouldn’t, would it? You always understand. And so does Hagrid-- he was right. Fighting makes you stronger, afterwards, doesn’t it? I feel like I could do anything, now that it’s over. It’s like the whole world heaved a big sigh, and life is normal again, only... different. And better. And I don’t even have to worry about turning Harry in for the Marauder’s Map, because Professor Lupin confiscated it.

Now, though, we’ve got Buckbeak’s appeal to think about. And I’ve still got my usual enormous pile of homework to do–you know, Gwen, that idea of splitting the work into thirds might have worked if I’d done any work yesterday, but I was busy making up with Ron and Harry. And now that I’m definitely talking to them again, I can’t talk to them anymore. I’ve got seven assignments to do before tomorrow–six if you don’t count Divination, which I really don’t–and it’s already getting dark, so I think I’d better go–

Thank goodness.

Goodnight, Gwen.

March 7

Gwen, I can’t study anymore or my head is going to fall off. Fall. Off. That’s all I wanted to say. I don’t have time for anything else. Except to tell you that now that Ron and Harry are my friends again, they will not shut up about my schedule. If they ask me one more question about how I’m getting to all these classes–I mean, is this what they were thinking about the whole time they weren’t talking to me? Ron’s got whole theories. It’s unbelievable. It’s very hard not to tell him, but I swore. So I just let him try and figure it out. Some of the things are so ludicrous I just laugh outright. He thinks I might have split myself in half. Honestly, he grew up in a wizarding family–and he has access to the library–if he really wanted to figure it out.... but I’m glad he’s content to guess, because I couldn’t tell him anyway. I have to go now. I am going mad with this work, completely mad. Gwen, they’ve already started piling it on for exam studies, and I have TWELVE EXAMS this year. My head is spinning, and I’m having a very difficult time getting up in the morning. The only consolation I have this week is that it is much easier to get around the castle with a hundred books when you have two friends who will help you carry them. ‘Bye.

March 14

Gwen, if I told you that I went mad today, would you believe me?

Because I think that’s what happened. I think I went mad. Do you want to know what I did today?

We were down in Care of Magical Creatures. It’s the only time we’ve got a chance to talk to Hagrid anymore- the security around the castle is intense now, and Hagrid won’t even come to pick me up from the castle now because he says there’s nothing more I can do for Buckbeak, so it’s not worth the time or the risk. Anyway, we were in class today and he was miserable, still shocked over the verdict–he couldn’t even talk to us about it, just said it’s no good, that the committee’s in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket and that there’s nothing more to be done. And then he buried his face in his handkerchief and went off toward his cabin. And that’s when Draco Malfoy opened his big, fat, ugly, horrid mouth.

"Look at him blubber! Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic? And he’s supposed to be our teacher!"

I swear, I heard a ringing in my ears. How dare he make fun when it’s his fault. It’s because of him that this is happening to Buckbeak and Hagrid, his fault and his father’s — and hearing him laugh about it like that, mocking Hagrid, after all the suffering he’s caused–I felt a surge of real rage.

So I SMACKED him. Hard. Right around the head.

"Don’t you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul–you evil–" I raised my hand to smack him again, I wanted to smack him again, if he had just said one more filthy word, I would have — all I needed was a reason. Ron said, "Hermione!" and tried to grab my hand, but I jerked it back and pulled out my wand. I pointed it right at Malfoy’s face.

I didn’t have to do anything. Malfoy’s a fool, but he’s not stupid enough to get into a duel with me. He knows I could flatten him. He took off with those cowards he calls friends, and it’s a good thing he did. I was almost hoping he’d call me a Mudblood so I’d have an excuse to really blast him–

That’s what Ron said. His mouth fell open, and he stared at me. I said, "Harry, you’d better beat him in the Quidditch final! You just better had, because I can’t stand it if Slytherin wins!" Harry sort of nodded, and Ron managed to say that it was time for Charms, but he didn’t take his eyes off me for a minute. I think I shocked him.

I shocked myself. I was still in a state of shock when I got to Charms, which explains how I could make such a stupid mistake. I turned back time, right outside the door, and went to Arithmancy. Which would be fine, except that I forgot to go to Charms. I never came back- I just disappeared into thin air, and then I went to the common room to study over my notes and passed out on the table, so I slept through lunch.

Harry and Ron found me unconscious with my face on my textbook. When Harry nudged me awake, I had no idea where I was, or what was going on. They asked me why I hadn’t been to Charms, and I flew into a panic. Ron said, "You know what, Hermione? I reckon you’re cracking up. You’re trying to do too much."

Don’t harass me — I’m telling you I’m unstable — I’m liable to do something bad. I ran out of there with my bag and tracked down Professor Flitwick. He said I’d missed Cheering Charms, and he hinted they might come up on the exam, and now I’m doomed! I had to go to stupid Divination after that, up to the top of that hot, smoky tower, and by the time I got there, I was mad. Mad I’d missed class, still mad with Malfoy, mad that I had to waste time in Trelawney’s class when I could have been catching up on Cheering Charms–mad that on the way there, I heard Pansy Parkinson say, in passing, "She looks worse than usual, if that’s possible."

Gwen, I caught a glimpse of myself in the girls’ room mirror. I look an absolute fright. I threw some water on my face and hair, but it didn’t help. I look worse than Lupin does after a full moon; there are circles way deep under my eyes.

Anyway, who cares about that, I got to class feeling extremely ultra sensitive. I sat down with Harry and Ron, and we started working with crystal balls- first day of that. Professor Trelawney actually said, "The fates have informed me that your examinations in June will concern the Orb, and I am anxious to give you sufficient practice."

I snorted at her. "Well, honestly.... ‘the fates have informed her’... who sets the exam? She does. What an amazing prediction." I said it quite loudly enough for her to hear. Harry choked back a laugh and Ron had to bite his knuckles to stop himself losing control. But Trelawney just ignored us and told us to try and "See" into our Orbs. Whatever. Glass balls full of white mist- that’s all there was to "See". Ron interpreted his perfectly–"There’s going to be loads of fog tonight," he whispered. Harry and I burst out laughing so loudly at that, that Professor Trelawney couldn’t help but notice.

She came over to us and looked into the Orb. She started breathing all dramatically. And then she started in again, giving Harry new death omens, telling us that she could see the Grim drawing ever nearer to him, doing her best to scare the whole class. And I just couldn’t listen to it for one more second.

"Oh, for goodness’ sake. Not that ridiculous Grim again!" I said, right to her face.

Oh, yes I did! And Trelawney got so upset that she called me the most "hopelessly mundane" student she’d ever met, and said that I’d never have what the "noble art of Divination requires." That was enough for me. I’ve been wanting to get out of that worthless class all year, and I hadn’t done my assignments for it anyway.

"Fine!" I said. "Fine! I give up! I’m leaving!" And I did.

I quit class. I dropped Divination. Gwen, I struck Draco Malfoy and threatened him with my wand, and then I told off a teacher and marched out of class, so will you tell me now, if you’ve made up your mind–did I go mad today?

Then why am I so GLAD that I did both?

Do you know what else? Ron and Harry are scared of me now! At dinner tonight, they treated me like I was a bomb about to go off. For once, they don’t know what to make of me. I broke school rules and skipped class. If I’ll do that, I’ll do anything.

You know, I think I need to go to bed. I don’t feel like myself. I feel like I’m on pins and needles- I still feel like picking a fight. I don’t know how to explain my behavior at all–do you?

Gwen! You don’t... really think I’ve snapped!?

Oh, no. I don’t think so. I mean, I’ll be back to myself.... but I’ll never take any of it back. I know I won’t.

Oh, Gwen. What a day.

Goodnight.

March 24

Hi, Gwen! Sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been studying like an absolute maniac.

Not quite. It’s still two more weeks until the Easter holidays, and I REALLY NEED A BREAK. Even without Divination, I’m taking more subjects than anybody else. Whenever Harry tells me he feels stress over his homework, what with Quidditch practice and everything, I just raise my eyebrows ever-so-slightly and he says, "But you have it worse, Hermione, you definitely have it worse. No contest." I’ve been living in the library. I’m in the library at this very moment. I’ve still got bad shadows under my eyes and I’m tired. And my hands are shaky.

Oh, I know I’m sick, and I’ve been to the hospital wing already. Madame Pomfrey suggested that I just take a room there. I think she was joking, but I’m not entirely sure. Anyway, she and I struck a bargain that’s going to get me through the rest of this year. I promised to go up there whenever I feel anything the matter, and she promised not to slip me a Knockout Solution, when I do.

I know it. I’d have really been sick before, if you hadn’t made me go. I’ve got to start taking better care of myself.

Professor McGonagall and I had a long talk about it, and it’s all part of my deal with her.

Yes. The morning after I walked out of Divination class, I got a note at breakfast, saying that I had to come to Professor McGonagall’s office right away. Harry said, "That can’t be good," and Ron dropped his fork and said, "Don’t go. Say you didn’t get the note." But of course I went. I felt sick going, too–I was sure I was about to be suspended for my behavior, and I knew she was going to take away my Time-Turner and make me drop my extra classes.

But when I got there, she looked really mild. "I understand you are no longer a student of Divination," she said calmly. I said that no, I probably wasn’t. "And why is that, Miss Granger?" I couldn’t think of what to say.

"Er... well.... I can’t....." I felt incredibly stupid. And then something inside me said- Hermione, just tell the truth. So I admitted something to Professor McGonagall that I.... I didn’t even know was true until I said it.

"Professor, I can’t handle all this. I thought I could, but I can’t. I know you must be disappointed, because you made an exception–but I’ve tried my best to keep up, and there just isn’t any way. I know I shouldn’t have walked out of that class, I know I should have come to you first, but Professor Trelawney was predicting Harry’s death again, and it must have put me over the edge or something. Please don’t take away the Time-Turner! I love Arithmancy and Muggle Studies, and Ancient Runes–please let me finish out the year! I’ll never walk out of another class, I promise!"

Yes. So was I. And I expected her to look shocked. But instead, it was like she was trying not to smile. "You say Professor Trelawney was predicting Harry’s death....again?" I nodded. "She does it every class," I said. Then Professor McGonagall really did smile. "Miss Granger, I will formally withdraw you from Divination class. You will be allowed to continue with the rest of your current schedule. I think you’ve learned the necessary lesson from this experience. There is no need for any punishment." And then she made me promise to see Madam Pomfrey about my health, and we talked about things a little longer, and then I was excused.

Ever since then, I’ve just been buried in homework. This is too much for one person. I didn’t realize it before, but now I can see that I have limits. When I said that to Professor McGonagall, she told me I’d made an important discovery. But then she said, "However, now that you have found your limits, Miss Granger, you may want to stretch them. You will be graded as usual on all of your exams." So now I’m studying myself sick–not really sick, Gwen. But I’ve put myself on a really strict schedule, and I should be doing my final Defense Against the Dark Arts essay right now, but, well.... I needed a little break.

Gwen? Are you there?

You’re so quiet.

Oh. Okay, but I have to go, though. And if I don’t write for another little while, don’t worry- I’m just working hard. But I have more of a–a handle on things now, I think.

It seems you do. All right, Hermione, go on.

April 7

I can’t keep this up. This is supposed to be the first day of our holidays, but I’m not going to be able to take a single second of it for rest- and it’s no good telling me to get out and play, Gwen. Believe me, I wish I could. But I won’t fail any of these classes. I’m not the only one going crazy either–all of us in third year are smothered with homework and exam studies. I think Neville's nearing some kind of nervous collapse and so’s Seamus- he was hollering earlier in the common room, "Call this a holiday?" And Harry’s got to fit all his studies in around Quidditch now, and Ron’s got all his own work, plus he’s taken on responsibility for Buckbeak’s appeal–you know, Gwen, he said he would help, and he really is.

Hardly–the Quidditch final against Slytherin is in just two weeks! Harry’s barely got time to do his own homework, the way Oliver Wood’s been making the Gryffindor team train. No, Ron’s been putting the whole appeal together by himself, and it’s really... impressive. I’ve never seen him so involved in his books and research before. Not only that, but whenever I try to help work on it, he takes the books away from me. He says I’ve already got too much to do, and that I should let him worry about Hagrid.

Yes. It’s such a relief, because I’m already so tired lately that I’ve started acting like a real idiot.

I’m just really thin-skinned lately. Like the other day, I was trying to leaf through "Fowl or Foul? A Study of Hippogriff Brutality" and I kept nodding off over the pages, until finally Ron took the book out from under my face. He said, "Didn’t I already tell you I’m doing this? Go on, Hermione- you’ll lose it if you don’t get some sleep." And that’s when I acted like an idiot- I got all teary-eyed and I said, "Oh, that’s so nice!" and just sat there sniffling for no reason. Ron rolled his eyes and said, "See, I told you, you’ve lost it already." And I think I may have, Gwen. I’ve been really close to tears all the time, and I don’t know if it’s just that I’m tired, or....

See, that’s the problem- I don’t know what. I just feel like I have a million feelings all the time, and they all come out of nowhere, and they’re more tiring than all my classes put together, and I’m having them for no reason. I just get all sad and really touchy, and everything sets me off. I know it’s probably just these late hours, and the Time-Turning- but it feels like more than just being worn out. Gwen, do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt like you couldn’t figure out what you were feeling? Oh, never mind, I’m not even making any sense, am I?

Really? You know what I mean?

And you’ve felt like this?

So it goes away?

Comes back?! But it’s awful!

Well great. Ugh..... anyway, at least there aren’t classes this week. I can have all day to work. I’m in the library right now, trying to get through an Arithmancy study session.–I’ve been going back through my old Spelgebra equations to make sure they’re really cemented in my head before the exam. The exam week is less than two months away! I can’t believe Seamus thinks that’s ages of time–it’s hardly any time at all! Not when I’ve got eleven exams. Oh, Gwen, I’m so anxious....what if.... what if I fail something?

If I failed something I think I’d just die. What would Professor McGonagall say? What would my parents say? I don’t even want to think about it. All right, you’re right, I’d better get back to my studies. I’ll check in as soon as I can. ‘Bye.

April 15

Happy Easter, Gwen–that is, it’s mostly happy–Mrs. Weasley sent us all chocolate eggs full of toffee again, and I’ve been eating pieces of mine all day to keep awake so I can study and my parents would absolutely kill me if they knew how much sugar was in my system right now, but how else am I supposed to stay awake? But I can’t think straight even though I’m perfectly wide awake, because I’m all over excited and jumpy and my eyes keep un-focusing, I mean, I was staring at the same paragraph in my History of Magic textbook for about a half an hour without even being able to read it. Finally I got so frustrated I shoved the book at Ron and told him, "You have to read this and tell me what it means!" And he read it, but then he looked up at me with a funny expression and said,

"It just means Grindelwald was defeated by Dumbledore in 1945. Hermione, you... you know that already."

"No I don’t."

"Yeah- you bossed me around for not knowing it when we studied it before."

"I didn’t boss you."

"You did too, you said, ‘Honestly, don’t you ever read? If you’d ever bothered to open ‘Hogwarts, A History’--"

"Oh. Well it’s true. Here, give me my book back."

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Because you’re acting like a loony."

"Oh, be quiet Ron! Give me back my book!"

"Well, that’s a fine thanks I get for teaching you all about Grindelwald. Better be nice to me or I won’t give you all the answers anymore--"

"Oh, please. I don’t have time for this, give me that book right now!"

"Well, what’s the magic word, then?"

"Expelliarmus!"

And I disarmed him of the book, but he just laughed and went back to reading "In Defense of Magical Creatures" and now I’m sitting here trying to study but it’s really hard because I’m either really edgy or dead tired, there isn’t any in-between. Plus I’m still feeling all over-sensitive. Harry asked me this morning why I always look like I’m going to cry lately, and do you know what I did? I started crying. Now he’s tiptoeing around me. What is my problem? Ron’s right, I’m a loony.

Oh, I wish I could, I know I should, but I just ate a mouthful of toffee and there’s no way I could fall asleep right now even if I were done with all my homework, which I’m not at all. But I promise I’ll go to bed eventually.

Oh, fine, fine, fine! I won’t eat any more of it. I’m starting to get a stomach ache anyhow. I notice Ron and Harry ate their entire eggs- I don’t know how they can do that! Maybe that’s why they’ve just gone into a complete laughing fit over their homework–oh, no, it’s just because they’re doing Divination homework, and Divination is a joke. I’m so glad I dropped that class, though I never thought I’d say anything like that as long as I lived, and I’m not sure what to make of myself, I mean, can you believe it, Gwen?

My mind is spinning, how on earth am I going to finish all this work? Help me! Say something so I can focus!

Right. See you soon.

April 17

Gwen! Our Quidditch final is in four days!

It is dreadfully exciting. The whole of Gryffindor House is in a nervous fit. Nobody will stop talking about it. Harry hardly has a second to himself- when he’s not out at practice he’s in the corner talking to Oliver Wood about tactics–even I know all the team tactics at this point–we all do. Lee Jordan said today that he’s never seen the school so charged up over a Quidditch Cup before. I wonder what it was like years ago, the last time we won it? That’s back when Ron’s brother Charlie played Seeker. They say Harry’s even better than Charlie, and he’s still legendary around here. I know Harry can do it- he’s going to catch the Snitch, I know he is.

Of course he is, he’s got a Firebolt!

You sound just exactly like Ron. Anyway, he just has to wait to catch the Snitch until we’re at least fifty points up on Slytherin–otherwise we win the match, but lose the Cup. Wood’s obsessed with this fact, and shouts it out about a hundred times per day. "Harry, you have to wait until we’re fifty points up, right? More than fifty points, Harry. Got that, do you? More than fifty. More than fifty, okay? Harry?" Finally tonight Harry yelled out, "I KNOW, OLIVER!!!" and made everybody laugh, and I’m glad he did, or I might have. We all know. More than fifty. Enough already.

I’ve still got a thousand assignments to do, match or no match. It’s a nightmare trying to get things done in this atmosphere–everything is Quidditch.

Gwen, really. It’s not good! All the Slytherins have taken to tripping Harry in the halls, trying to break his ankles and take him out of the match. Malfoy’s being especially malicious- in Care of Magical Creatures today Hagrid stood between him and Harry throughout the whole class. I imagine Malfoy’s still angry about being made a fool of in Hogsmeade- you know, with the mud-flinging at the Shrieking Shack? He keeps popping up all over with those scary friends of his, hoping to get Harry alone. He knows he’d have to cheat to win–he knows he’s nothing to Harry, especially when it comes to Quidditch. He’s just a cheating, foul, horrid, nasty–

Well he is, and where else can I say it? And all the other Slytherins are being hateful, too–there have actually been duels in the hallways, Slytherin versus Gryffindor, and a couple of people have ended up in the hospital wing with leeks sprouting out of their ears.

No, it’s really insane! Oliver Wood won’t let Harry go anywhere anymore without protection. All of Gryffindor House moves ‘round the school in a pack, with Harry in the middle, and nobody gets to class on time. It’s ridiculous. It does make it much easier for me to time turn, though, because no one notices me disappearing in all this chaos. It’s a good thing no one’s paying attention, too, because I’m so tired that I keep making mistakes- twice today I went back five minutes too early and had to duck out of my own way, and that’s really dangerous. Professor McGonagall told me horror stories about wizards who have seen themselves time turning; loads of them thought they went mad and ended up killing their past or future selves! I’ve got to get my head on straight–I’ve got to be more careful.

But right now what I’ve got to do is study, and stop thinking about Quidditch. Harry’s doing that quite enough for two people, and I’ve literally got a pile, a stack, a heap of papers and books in front of me that I’ve hardly even dented. I don’t know how I’ll ever manage. How is it possible that Ron can concentrate when I can’t? He’s sitting here reading the "Handbook of Hippogriff Psychology" and he’s so absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Crookshanks jumped up between us a second ago. Usually he at least pushes him down. He looks so serious. Kind of like when we play chess. I’m so glad he’s doing this–Ron’s been working so hard on the appeal–this time I’m just sure... I mean, I hope.... oh, Gwen, they can’t execute Buckbeak, can they? They won’t. Say they won’t.

That’s not very comforting. Those stupid Committee members–awful Mr. Malfoy. I can’t think about it anymore, I have to study this diagram of Muggles lifting heavy objects so that I can write an essay on the use of brute strength versus the use of the Lifting Charm, and I can’t possibly do it with all this noise in here. If Fred and George would be quiet for just ten minutes–oh good, Ron just barked at them to keep it down. Oh no!–now they’re coming over here with that look they get when they just want to torture him. "Did you just shush us? Turning out more like Percy every day, isn’t he, Fred?" "Yeah–going for Prefect, this one. What a disgrace."

I’m moving my things upstairs where I can study. I’ll never get anything done in this mess. See you later.

April 20

I can’t work, I can’t concentrate.

Too nervous. The Quidditch final is in the morning.

I can’t say that yet–Harry looks sick–he wants to win so badly. We all do. In Transfiguration yesterday, Professor McGonagall actually gave him permission to run back up to Gryffindor Tower and check on his Firebolt–he’s been doing it between every class. I keep telling him everything’s going to be fine, but he just nods back at me, looking like he can’t open his mouth to say anything, or else he’ll throw up.

Ron just keeps repeating, "You’ve got a Firebolt." It’s true, too. He can’t lose on that broom. If he stays in the air. Please, please don’t let there be any dementors tomorrow! And I hope Malfoy doesn’t try anything despicable–but of course he will, what am I thinking? Oh, I’m just so jumpy about it- me and everybody else- this whole common room is overexcited and tense. Ginny’s got hold of Crookshanks and she keeps looking over here and tapping her feet incessantly–well, at least she’s keeping it to herself and not adding to Harry’s worry like some people. Lavender and Parvati were fluttering around a minute ago saying things like, "Oh, I hope we’ll win! Do catch the Snitch, Harry!" Finally I told them to go consult the Orb and tell us what’s going to happen so we can all quit agonizing about it. Ron snorted. They looked offended, but it was worth it to stop them fussing. Harry’s not doing very well tonight. But I know he’ll do well tomorrow.

Of course he will! Oh, Hermione, you’ll tell me everything this time, you just have to, won’t you, please?

Yes, I’ll tell you every single thing–after all, it’s the Cup! I just hope we win. It would be torture to have to tell you everything if Slytherin beats us.

They’d better not. I’m going to go, Gwen. Oliver Wood just called the team to bed, and I’m going to go up, too. I’m as fidgety as they are. Goodnight!

April 21

Hello.

Did you play? Did you win? What’s going on, I’m dying.

This is going to be difficult. But I did promise to tell you everything. So here goes.

Just... just don’t say anything, okay? It’s bad enough. But I’ll tell you what went on because it was an amazing match–that is, if you still want to hear about it.

Well of course I do. I’m sure it was a brilliant match. They must have cheated!

Oh, they definitely cheated. But let me start at the beginning. This morning at breakfast, when our team came into the Great Hall, everyone but the Slytherins burst into applause. Harry looked happy, but really nervous–Wood had to force the whole team to eat something before he led them away again. Ron and I grabbed our banner that said "Lions For The Cup!" and pinned on red rosettes (everybody in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw was wearing them!) and then we ran down to the Quidditch field to get good seats. I was sitting between Ron and Ginny, and we were possibly the three most anxious people in the stadium.

And then Gryffindor came running out of the locker room- Alicia, Katie, Angelina, Fred, George, Oliver and Harry- all in scarlet, all looking ready to fight for the Cup! The stands erupted in a giant yell! Then came the Slytherins, all huge and hulking (except pathetic little Malfoy,) looking ready to kill. Oliver and Marcus Flint shook hands- I thought they’d break each other’s fingers by the looks of it–and then the teams mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch blew the whistle. Fourteen players kicked off from the ground, and the Quidditch Final match rose up, into the air!

Harry flew higher and faster than anyone-- I know I didn’t get a chance to tell you before, Gwen, but that Firebolt is really something–he was up there doing hairpin turns and sweeping the field for the Snitch, while Malfoy just tagged after him, trying to look like he had a clue. It was the first time in two weeks I’ve seen Harry not nervous. He looked thrilled!

Gryffindor was in possession first. Alicia Spinnet headed toward the goal with the Quaffle–but it was intercepted. Warrington of Slytherin took it back the other way, and was about to shoot when George Weasley hit a Bludger at him–Warrington dropped the Quaffle–Angelina caught it, zoomed up-field, shot, and scored!! Ten-zero Gryffindor! We screamed, and Angelina punched the air and circled back–which is when Marcus Flint went smashing into her on purpose, trying to take revenge for the goal. He pretended he hadn’t seen her, but it was obvious he had–Fred Weasley didn’t care, he just chucked his Beater’s club right at Flint’s head. Flint’s nose smashed into his broom handle and started bleeding- Ron yelled, "RIGHT, FRED!" and Ginny leaned across me to say, "Ron! You know that was a complete foul!" Madam Hooch gave a penalty shot to Flint and one to Angelina–Alicia took the shot for Gryffindor and scored! Twenty-zero, Gryffindor!

Then Flint flew forward to take his shot past Oliver Wood. Wood looked like he was fighting a battle for his life. Lee Jordan turned to the crowd and said, in a hushed voice, "Wood’s a superb keeper! Superb! Very difficult to pass–very difficult indeed–" and then he broke into a holler–"YES! I DON’T BELIEVE IT! HE SAVED IT!"

Gryffindor in possession, then Slytherin, then Gryffindor again and it was Katie Bell with the Quaffle, flying up-field, right about to score.... but Montague of Slytherin grabbed her by the head and cartwheeled her upside down! It’s amazing, the way she held on–Ginny and I screamed! What a lousy trick! But it didn’t matter- Katie put her penalty shot through, a moment later, and Jordan yelled, "THIRTY-ZERO! TAKE THAT, YOU DIRTY, CHEATING–" Professor McGonagall cut him off, but Ron finished the comment for him, bellowing a word that made Ginny and I both say, "Ron!" Jordan looked up and grinned at him, but honestly, he’s lucky he didn’t get in trouble! Boys.

Suddenly, Harry pulled out of his hover and shot straight toward the Slytherin end of the field! I thought he’d seen the Snitch, but I knew he shouldn’t catch it, because we were only thirty points ahead! I started to scream, "No, Harry, don’t touch it, fifty points up, fifty points up!" Ron clapped a hand over my mouth and said, "Calm down! He’s faking out Malfoy-- he knows how to add!" And Ginny giggled and explained that Harry was just fainting. Whatever that means.

Faint... you mean feinting? Oh, that’s hilarious.

You hush! I’m telling a story! Anyway. Harry was going really fast in the wrong direction to try and fool Malfoy, and it worked. The Slytherins started beating Bludgers at him, one after the other, barely missing his head, thinking he was headed for the Snitch–but he got them! HAH! The Snitch was at the other end of the field the whole time, and Malfoy never even noticed! What an idiot! Harry kept them all at the wrong end, and almost got crushed doing it–when they couldn’t catch him with a Bludger, the Slytherin Beaters (Derrick and Bole, they’re absolute beasts) came at Harry from either direction with their clubs raised to bludgeon him. I thought they were going to kill him-- the stands went still and I pressed my hands over my mouth so hard that I hurt my lips–but at the last second, Harry shot three feet straight up! Derrick and Bole crunched right into each other! The stands exploded in laughter and cheers, Ron yelled "ALL RIGHT, HARRY!" and Ginny let out a "Yessss!" I just screamed. It was amazing.

Then it got dirty. Dirty. The Slytherins would do anything to get at the Quaffle–Flint finally scored and Lee Jordan swore so badly that Professor McGonagall tried to take the megaphone away and Ron said, "See, that’s way worse than what I said." Of course then he added, "AND EAT IT, FLINT, YOU LOUSY--" But Ginny and I both smothered the last bit. In any case, with Flint’s score, it was thirty-ten, Gryffindor, and the cheating just got worse.

Bole hit Alicia in the head with his bat and tried to say he thought she was a Bludger. George Weasley lost it when he saw that, and elbowed Bole in the face! Both teams got penalties- we scored- Wood made another amazing save and Lee Jordan was beside himself- "FORTY-TEN TO US! WILL YOU LOOK AT OLIVER WOOD! TOOK IT RIGHT IN THE SHOULDER FOR GRYFFINDOR! SPECTACULAR!"

Katie Bell got possession of the Quaffle, looped around Flint, ducked both Bludgers, and zoomed through to score! Fifty-ten, Gryffindor! The Slytherins looked like they’d all kill her, so Fred and George immediately took up her sides and started swinging at anything that came near her, which was good. Except that while our Beaters were busy protecting Katie, Derrick and Bole had free opportunity to take both Bludgers and shoot them straight at Oliver for no reason–WHAM, WHAM! Right in his stomach! He rolled over in the air and looked like he couldn’t breathe- almost fell- the stands were screaming bloody murder- Madam Hooch had a fit- Gryffindor took the penalty and SCORE! Sixty-ten! And then Alicia grabbed up the Quaffle and put it through again before Slytherin had a chance to regroup. Seventy-ten!

Well I can’t very well tell you anything if you don’t control yourself! Now then. Where was I? Ah, yes. The Snitch. It appeared in the sky twenty feet above Harry–and he saw it.

Harry shot upwards–it was a breeze on his Firebolt–it was Gryffindor for sure–Ginny clutched my leg and I tried to shout, but I was too hoarse by that time to do anything but bang my feet on the stands while Ron shook the banner crazily in the air crying "GO! GO! GO!"

When suddenly Harry slowed, halted, and missed.

Malfoy had got hold of the Firebolt’s tail with both hands, and he dragged Harry backwards, away from the Snitch.

Harry tried to beat him off, but it was no good, he couldn’t reach. I wanted to shout horrible things–I thought Ron’s mouth would fall off, the words that were coming out of it–Lee Jordan lost it, too, shouting, "YOU CHEATING SCUM! YOU FILTHY, CHEATING B---" He didn’t say B, though, he said the whole word.

I know it. Even Professor McGonagall went over the edge! She didn’t even take the megaphone away, she was screaming so hard–and Ginny was muttering next to me, "Oh, I wish he’d fall, I wish he’d fall–push him off, Harry!" Alicia Spinnet was so mad that she missed the penalty shot by a mile. Flint started laughing at her, so George Weasley shot over with his club raised to try and knock his teeth out-- but thank goodness Fred held him back! Lee Jordan finally gathered himself up enough to yell, "STEP OFF, GEORGE! FLINT’S NOT WORTH THE POINTS!"

It was just like a war, except not as nice. But Slytherin feeds on that kind of negative energy–in no time, Montague had scored on Wood, making the score seventy-twenty. Still, we were fifty points up, and at that point we could have caught the Snitch at any time it appeared, so Harry started to use Malfoy’s own tactic against him. He followed Malfoy everywhere, and marked him so closely that they kept banging their knees together, and Malfoy was getting extremely frustrated- everywhere he turned, Harry was there. It shot his concentration. Ginny kept hitting my arm reflexively and muttering "That’s it, Harry, block him, block him," while Ron laughed like a maniac–"Look at that git–can’t see his way clear for anything- Oh-ho! Harry’s got him spinning like a top!"

Angelina took the Quaffle. She zoomed up the pitch. After her went every member of the Slytherin team- every one of them massed in front of the goal hoops to block her–there was no way through. Just when she was about to hit the wall of them, Harry lay flat on his broom, sank down to their level, and shot forward like a bullet, faster than anything I’ve ever seen, right into the midst of them, with a giant holler! He scared Slytherin so badly that they scattered like chickens, and Angelina flew through the clearing and scored! Eighty-twenty to Gryffindor!

But Harry couldn’t slow down right away. He catapulted straight toward us in the stands- there was a gasp–he managed to stop and reverse just before he crashed. But instead of a sigh of relief, the stands let out a unified scream of terror and pointed back to the match. Harry pivoted back to face the field, where he saw what we were all seeing.

Malfoy had already seen the Snitch. He had gone into a straight dive.

Everyone in the stands was moaning the same thing. We all shot up- Ron and Ginny and I clambered onto the bench and practically howled–the noise was unbearable. Harry gained on Malfoy as quickly as he could, but Malfoy was already miles ahead. He was far too close to the Snitch. Malfoy was definitely going to catch it.

Or.... was he??

Harry dove–it was a plummet–every ounce of speed and force he could muster–down, down, past Malfoy’s broomtail, past his ankles, past his shoulders, neck and neck, stretching out his arm, straining his fingers----

AND HARRY CAUGHT THE SNITCH!!!

Yes! Finally, the Cup! Oliver Wood sobbed like a baby. The whole team flew into a clump and sank to the ground, holding onto each other. Ron and I dropped the banner and bolted out of the stands, fighting to get to Harry, who was being carried across to the trophy table. Professor McGonagall was sobbing harder than Wood. Lee Jordan was cheering brokenly into the megaphone. Hagrid was beaming, Percy was jumping up and down, Ginny was crying, and Ron and I couldn’t even speak. We just looked at Harry.

Oliver Wood, weeping, passed Harry the Cup, and he grinned at us and hoisted it up into the air–I almost burst with happiness for him! Gwen, it was one of those moments I’ll go back to for the rest of my life. It was perfectly glorious.

Tell everyone at Miss Vauclain’s! Tell them that my friend Harry Potter is the best Seeker in the entire world! I doubt even a professional could play like he does. Ron says there’s a World Cup this summer, but who needs to see that when I can watch Gryffindor play? They’re incredible.

Anyway, you can go tell Cassie and everybody about the match right now, because I’m going back downstairs to the common room. There’s still a raging party going on and I don’t want to miss any more of it–Oliver Wood’s so insane with joy that he actually came up to me and pounded my back and said, "And you! You helped us once- you charmed Harry’s glasses- well done, well done!" And that was the match we lost. He’s peaked! But it was still awfully nice of him to remember. What an incredible day.

Yes, quite! Thank you, my dear. This will go over extremely well. And I think I’ll use your little trick–tell them we lost and then shock them in the end!

Oh, but I never said we lost.

Yes I certainly did! And it was loads of fun, too! All right, then, that’s it. I’m going downstairs to celebrate!!! Goodnight, Guinevere!

May 5

Gwen, I’m just checking in. I can’t write. I can hardly think. Exams in four weeks. Unbelievable amount of work. Harry’s still floating around looking thrilled, and Professor McGonagall’s still in such a good mood that she’s been really easy on us in class lately. Which is a good thing, I’m telling you, because I don’t know how I’m going to manage this. I haven’t had any sleep, and I’m barely turning in my assignments–oh, what’s the point of writing it down, it’s just taking up more time. Sorry. Got to go.

May 17

Hi, Gwen.

Not well. Not well. Are you mad I’ve hardly been writing?

Everybody here has finally gotten over the hysterics. Exams are in two weeks and we’re all at the breaking point. Even Fred and George are in here studying for their O.W.L.s, if you can believe it. I’ve never seen anything like it in our common room–it’s all just books and people looking terrified, and I’m so highly strung that I cry or yell at least once a day.

No, I’m not–I’ve been absolutely horrid to anybody who even tries to talk to me. Poor Neville, more like. He asked me if he could study with me during my next Potion study session, and I nearly bit his head off, because I was right in the middle of memorizing all the different dates we’ve got to know about the Medieval Witch Hunts, and I was so tired. I snapped at him-- "Neville, can’t you see I’ve got to do this right now? Just don’t talk to me ‘till I’m through!" He looked really surprised and said, "Okay, Hermione, I–I’m sorry to bother you," and scurried away. I felt so badly about it–especially when Ron edged away from me on the sofa like he was scared I’d snap at him next. I said, "Well, I’m sorry, but I’m very busy! I will help him when I’m through." And he muttered, "Through? When’s that going to be?" I must be the meanest person in the world.

Yes I am. I slammed my book and huffed at Ron, and then I went over to Neville and apologized. I told him I was planning to study Potions the next day and of course he could work with me if he wanted to. He looked at me like he wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he did anyway. I tried to be really nice, and not snap. I had to bite my tongue about a hundred times, but I managed not to yell at him. Oh, I can’t wait to take these exams and be done with it.

Two more weeks. Okay. You’re right. I can keep my temper for two more weeks. I’ve got to go, Gwen. I’ve got to study. I know, I know, I always say that. But you understand.

Thanks. See you.

May 25

One. More. Week.

Actually it’s nine days until my first day of exams. But do you want to see my schedule for the first day of exams? Do you?

Here’s the whole schedule. Okay.

Mon., June 3: 9am Transfiguration

9am Arithmancy

Tues., June 4 9am Care of Magical Creatures

1pm Potions

Wed., June 5 9am History of Magic

1pm Herbology

Thurs., June 6 9am Defense Against the Dark Arts

Can you believe I have four exams my first day, and I have to time turn twice? Can you believe they’re making us get up for a nine o’clock exam the morning after the midnight one? We’re all going to be dead! I’m going to fail! Oh, help me, Gwen, help me. I don’t want to fail.

I don’t know, I can’t imagine failing, I mean, I wouldn’t even know how to do it. But it could happen, with a schedule like that! Oh, why didn’t I think when I signed up for all those classes, why didn’t I think!!!! If I could just drop one more class it might be okay. I don’t need to take Muggle Studies. I’m Muggle-born. My mum and dad are Muggles. I know all about Muggles. Not that it hasn’t been fascinating, because it has, but Gwen, really. I don’t know how I’m going to do this again next year.

You’re going to try and do it next year? Hermione, haven’t you learned anything??

Yes. I don’t know what I’m going to do about it yet. I haven’t decided. I know what I ought to do.... but I’m feeling very stubborn about it. Even though I feel like I’m going to pass out if I look at ONE MORE PAGE. I need to go to bed. I wish I could. I’m almost worse off than Percy, and he’s studying for his N.E.W.T.s, which are the hardest tests of all. If anyone makes a single peep in the common room, he takes points from Gryffindor. He’s teetering closer to the edge than I am. Nine more days. We can do this. I’ll check in soon.

May 31

Gwen!! Exams start on Monday, it’s almost over, it’s almost over, and it hasn’t even begun.. I’d better pass. I’d better pass at the very top of my class.

But this time it’s different. I don’t have enough rest, or enough time. I still need to get through the last section of studies for Charms–I missed Cheering Charms altogether, and I’ve hardly had a chance to practice them on my own, and I also have to figure out a few last theorems for Arithmancy, which I can’t because I can’t find my textbook! I have been looking for it everywhere!! It’s called "Numerology and Gramatica" and it’s huge. It can’t go missing, it’s too big!

I asked, but nobody knows where it is–although Ron said he’d borrowed it for a bit of bedtime reading. Honestly. How very helpful of him to be sarcastic when I am going crazy. Oh, and he and Harry saw my exam schedule, and nearly threw a fit. "Are you sure you’ve copied down these times right?" "Is there any point in asking you how you’re going to sit for two exams at once?" I swear. Sometimes I feel like taking the Time-Turner out from under my robes and shaking it at them. I wish I could just tell them, so they would stop bothering me. Maybe after my last exam, Professor McGonagall will let me tell them.

Oh, I can’t believe I almost forgot to tell you–the day of our last exam--- that afternoon–it’s Buckbeak’s appeal! They’ve set it for June 6^th. And Gwen, they’re bringing the executioner to the appeal.

It sounds like they’ve had their decision made for them by Lucius Malfoy. I could just curse him, he’s so awful. But they won’t really kill Buckbeak. He’s a living thing, with feelings–Malfoy can’t just use him to get back at Hagrid. And Ron’s worked so hard, you should have seen his face when we got the note. To know that they’ve already hired the executioner, after all the hours and effort we’ve both put in-- it’s not just, if they don’t listen. Hagrid’s going to make an incredible appeal. They have to listen, they just have to.

Gwen, if they don’t.... then something’s wrong with the world, isn’t it. I want to believe that the people in charge of things are smart and rational and... good. But maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re just not.

Then why are they in charge? Why do they get to decide?

Why not?

It doesn’t make any sense, Gwen. It makes me.... really sad. And very angry. But you know what? We’re going to win. Buckbeak’s going to be okay. I... I’ll do something. Anything. They shouldn’t get away with hurting innocent things, and they won’t if I can help it.

Oh, bother all these exams. No matter what I’m feeling, no matter what’s going to happen to Buckbeak, I still have to study. And I STILL CAN’T FIND MY BOOK.

That’s true. Okay.

Thank you. I feel.... a little better.

Oh, Gwen, you’re so... you’re just.... what would I do without you?

June 3

Gwen.... tired.... four exams over with... seven more to go.... you can’t imagine....

Three more tomorrow...

Transfiguration this morning... we had to turn teapots into tortoises... mine looked like a turtle.

I.... guess so. Ron’s tortoise had a willow-patterned shell, and Harry’s tortoise breathed steam. They got mad when I complained mine looked like a turtle. I must not have been... concentrating hard enough.

She’s not making any exceptions for me, she’s told me that a thousand times. At least I know I did well in Ancient Runes. Charms, though- we had to do Cheering Charms for a third of our exam points. I was too tired to be nervous, and thank goodness I practiced, because mine was just fine. Just fine. Harry was nervous, though. He put Ron into a hysterical laughing fit. Ron had to be locked in a room by himself for an hour before he could finish his exam. I was done with Arithmancy before they were out of Charms. Urgh, Arithmancy... oh please let me pass it... It was so difficult....

I think so.... I hope so.... but who really knows.... And now, Gwen, I would like to go unconscious for about a week. But Care of Magical Creatures is tomorrow, and Potions–oh, Potions, Snape will fail me, he’ll fail all of us. He wouldn’t even give us a hint which potion we’ll be tested on, and we must’ve worked on twenty different recipes this year. He’s still in a rage that Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup. He’s being particularly awful to our class, though, because we’ve got Harry, and Harry caught the Snitch....

That’s what Harry says. He won’t say so if Snape gives him a zero. I have to go. I have to make sure I’ve memorized all the potion recipes, and quiz Neville. Then I think I’ll go to bed.

Yes. I have to go. Must concentrate. See you later.

June 4

Saw Hagrid today at the Care of Magical Creatures exam. He looks terrible. He says Buckbeak is getting depressed from being isolated for so long. He says we’ll know, one way or the other, the day after tomorrow. Ron said, "It’ll be all right, Hagrid, you’re going to do great." But Harry and I didn’t say anything. I feel defeated. I’m almost glad I’ve still got five exams–I don’t want to think about the appeal.

They’re not actually over yet. I still have Astronomy in three hours. Care of Magical Creatures was easy because Hagrid’s too preoccupied to set up a real exam for us. We just had to keep flobberworms alive for an hour, which requires absolutely no effort or skill. Thank goodness, too, because then we had Potions, which took everything I had. Snape’s so foul–he made us do Confusing Concoctions when he knows that just the fumes from that recipe will addle your brain. Poor Neville looked totally lost by the time he’d put in his second ingredient and Harry couldn’t get his to thicken–he thinks he saw Snape write a zero by his name. Wouldn’t that be awful? A zero.

Oh, mine. Well it was absolutely perfect, if you want to know. A model Confusing Concoction. Snape looked like he wanted to kill me–he was hoping I’d fail, I’m sure. But ha ha ha, it was PERFECT. And if he doesn’t give me a perfect grade, I’ll make him sorry–I’ll contest it–I’ll–

All I’m saying is, it had better be a FULL MARK. Or else. Anyway, Gwen, I have to go, I’m running the final study session for Astronomy, and everyone’s gathered downstairs already. I’ve got the best notes of anyone, and I’ve got everything committed to memory already, so I’m going to test all the third years. Funny how nobody minds me being a know-it-all when it’s three hours ‘til the test and they’re trying to cram. I hate cramming. I’m so tired that I’m getting light-headed. I don’t feel well.

Yes. I wasn’t hungry, but Ron and Harry forced me to have a little.

Okay. ‘Bye.

June 6

I’ve only got fifteen minutes before my Muggle Studies exam. I’m sitting outside the door in the hall. It’s my last exam, Gwen, MY LAST EXAM.

Sort of. I’m very relieved, of course–but just when I ought to be feeling a hundred times better, I feel nervous and frightened. Two bad things happened today and I’m quite shaken up. First something went wrong in my exam this morning–

Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Lupin set up a whole obstacle course for us–we each had to get through a grindylow, a Red Cap, a hinkypunk, and a kappa, and then at the end we had to climb into a trunk and battle a boggart. I did it all perfectly... except the boggart. Oh, Gwen, I found out what my greatest fear is. My greatest fear came true–boggarts seem so real that I believed it.

Professor McGonagall. She appeared in the trunk with me, and she looked at me– I’ll never forget it–like I was abhorrent to her. And she said, "Miss Granger, you are the most disappointing student I have ever come across; in all my years of teaching I’ve never been so utterly disgusted. You’ve failed every single exam! You will not be invited back for a fourth year at this school! Do you hear me? You are a failure!!!"

I screamed bloody murder, kicked open the trunk, and flung myself out of there. Professor Lupin ran over looking really worried, and Ron and Harry followed him. I managed to stammer out what I’d seen. I told them Professor McGonagall was in there, and she said I’d failed everything.

That’s when Ron pulled his stupid head inside his robe- as if that muffled him at all- and roared with laughter. But I couldn’t even get mad, I was still too scared. I turned to Professor Lupin and started to cry. I said, "And now you really will fail me, won’t you, because I- I couldn’t fight the boggart- but I didn’t get to try it in class that day so I didn’t know- I didn’t know that was my greatest fear- I wasn’t prepared–"

Ron shouted, "I knew! I told you that would be your boggart!" But Professor Lupin gave him a look and said, "You’re not helping," in a curt voice. So Ron finally shut up. Then Professor Lupin said, "Hermione, it’s fine. You’ve made full marks on every written test and every piece of homework, and you’ve done all the extra credit I offered. You’ll receive a ninety percent on this exam–"

"But I shouldn’t! I should get an eighty, the boggart’s twenty percent–"

"You’ll get half marks for the boggart, because first, as you say, you didn’t get to fight it in class, and second, you climbed in and faced it even if you couldn’t fight it. That merits half marks, in my opinion."

Oh, so do I. He said that I’ll get very nearly a hundred percent in his class, altogether. Finally I was able to calm down. Ron couldn’t let it alone, though–he kept snickering all through lunch. I was so angry with myself–and so embarrassed. I mean, Ron’s always teased me about being obsessed with my marks–but failing really is my biggest fear. What a stupid fear.

Yes, that’s true. Professor Lupin is so nice. I’m glad I didn’t turn him in for being a werewolf. He’s the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher ever, and I hope he’ll stay at Hogwarts for the rest of our education. It’ll be a full moon tonight... I wonder if it hurts to turn into a werewolf–

Oh, no, oh, no–the door just opened to my classroom and I have to go take this exam and I haven’t finished telling you the other thing–and it’s really bad!! I’ll rush. Okay. We ran into Cornelius Fudge- the Minister of Magic- on our way back into the castle for lunch. He told Harry that he’s here at Hogwarts, not only to check on the Sirius Black situation, but to stand witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. WITNESS TO THE EXECUTION!!! How can there even be a scheduled execution to witness? They haven’t even had the appeal!!

Gwen, they’re going to kill Buckbeak, aren’t they–don’t answer that. I know you don’t want to. I know they are–they’re going to kill him–oh, Hagrid, what’ll he do? You should have seen Ron, he was so enraged that he started to tell off the Minister! I had to drag him off so he wouldn’t jeopardize his father’s job. But I didn’t blame him–those men are horrible. And now I’ve got to concentrate on Muggle Studies- how can I? How can I? With the appeal in an hour?

I have to. Everybody’s already in there but me, and they’re passing out exams. Got to go. ‘Bye.

They really.... they’re killing him. Buckbeak’s going to be executed at sunset. Hagrid sent a note. The handwriting was so shaky I could hardly... it said not to come down, he doesn’t want us to see it. When I got the note I was all by myself. Everyone else is running around celebrating that exams are over, and Harry and Ron were still up at their Divination finals. So I just braced myself, and read the note. I read it about ten times. When I finally started to believe it, I curled up in the corner chair with my head on my knees and sobbed until somebody came through the portrait hole. It was Ron. He stopped in the entrance and looked at me–I think he’s been counting down to the appeal because he knew right away what had happened. He didn’t even say anything, just took the note and read it and sank down by the window. Then he said, "They can’t," very faintly.

"But they are," I said back. "It’s over." He looked as helpless as I felt. We worked so hard.

There’s nothing. All we can do is go down and say goodbye. When Harry came in from his exam, Ron told him what had happened, and Harry insisted that we have to go to Hagrid, we just have to. He’s right, of course. But it’s going to be difficult, because the teachers will never let us out of the castle at sunset, with Sirius Black still on the loose. At first we didn’t know how we were going to get down to Hagrid’s cabin without getting caught, because Harry left his Invisibility Cloak down in the secret tunnel last time he went into Hogsmeade. He couldn’t go down and get it, either. Too risky. Snape has an eye out for Harry doing anything funny ever since what happened with Malfoy–you know, Harry throwing the mud-balls and his head floating in midair and all.

Well, we’re using the Invisibility Cloak. What do I care about Snape or detention, when there’s an execution? Hagrid needs us. Since Harry couldn’t go and get his cloak, I went down in the tunnel and did it myself. Snape might be on the watch for Harry breaking rules, but he’d never expect me to try and sneak out, so I knew I could get away with it, and I did. I went down under the secret statue and fetched the cloak, and then sneaked back into the castle.

I know. I’m shocking everyone. When I came back with the cloak, Harry looked impressed, and Ron gaped at me and burst out, "Hermione, I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. First you hit Malfoy, then you walk out on Professor Trelawney–" he shook his head. And for some reason.... for some reason, the way he said it... I felt sort of pleased. I think I blushed, a little. What’s wrong with me?

But it... wasn’t even really a compliment.

I... Gwen? I think I.... that is.... well, there’s something I’ve sort of been..... wanting to talk about. A little bit. I don’t know. You’ll laugh.

Er... well, I can’t really explain it? But, sometimes.... sometimes when Ron’s around me, I –

Oh, wait a minute. Gwen, I have to go. Harry just stood up and put the cloak under his robe. He’s right, we’ve got to go to dinner now, before the sun sets. It’s already started going down. We’re going straight to Hagrid’s after we eat to say goodbye to Buckbeak. My stomach’s so clenched I know I’ll never eat a bite.

Yes, Gwen?

Yes. Buckbeak. Oh, Gwen, how can they kill him? He’s just a creature.

I know. I’ll be careful. I don’t want to be out there very long, I don’t want to see the execution. I don’t think I could bear it. But we have to check on Hagrid.

Okay, now I really have to go, it’s time. I’ll come and talk to you afterward. I’m sure I’ll need to talk.

Thank you, Gwen. I’ll be back soon.

June 7

Hi, Guinevere! Hello! How are you?

I’m.... fine. But I wasn’t expecting you to be in such a pleasant mood. How are you?

Oh, I’m just absolutely wonderful. Just perfect, really!

Really? Er... Hermione... whatever happened last night? Are you all right? Did you get to say goodbye to Buckbeak?

Yes, I did! I said goodbye, and watched him fly away!

I know, Gwen, it’s impossible! But it isn’t! Hah! I’m just in the most heavenly mood; you wouldn’t even believe how good I’m feeling.

When I woke up this morning, I was all stiff and sore and tired, and I just wanted to talk to you, to tell you everything. So when Madam Pomfrey came over to dress the wound on my shoulder–

Yes, yes, it’s just a bloody lip and a gash on my shoulder. I can hardly even feel it if I don’t think about it. And I can’t even think about it because I’m just too busy smiling! I’ve been charmed!

Cheering Charmed! Ron did it. You know what happened?

Well, like I was telling you, Madam Pomfrey came over to dress my wound and I shouted, "No! Not until I have–"

She finished for me. "Your diary?" She put her hands on her hips. "Always the same with you, isn’t it, young missy? Well.... I suppose it’s all right. Accio, Hermione Granger’s diary!"

But I shouldn’t have done it, I shouldn’t have let her Summon you. I forgot Ron and Harry were up here, because I was so muddled from everything that went on last night. I didn’t want them knowing I’ve got a diary! But it’s too late. Ron woke up as I caught you and started badgering me right off.

"What’s that?"

"Nothing."

"You’ve got a diary."

"No, I haven’t"

"What d’you write in there?"

"Ron!"

"Oh, come on."

"No! Let me alone."

"How long have you been writing in there?"

"None of your business, is it?"

"Hermione..."

"Well, if you must know, I’ve been keeping a diary since the summer before first year. Happy?"

"Not quite......so.... am I in there?"

"Ron!! I am not telling!! It is a secret!! Now let me alone, I want to write about last night."

Then Harry woke up and mumbled "Shut up," at us because I’d started yelling so loudly. Ron said, "No, Harry, wake up, look, she’s got a diary. See if you can get it." Honestly! Ron would have grabbed it himself, but he couldn’t get up, ‘cause his leg’s all mangled and broken–

What?! What happened to the three of you???

Oh, Gwen, I’m in too good a mood to talk about all that just yet. So then Harry got interested in you, too, and wanted to know if I’d ever written about him. They’re both awfully interested in themselves, aren’t they? But I ignored them both and opened you, and was going to shut the bed-curtains and write my password, when Ron propped himself up on his elbows and shot a Cheering Charm at me. It was a really good one. Suddenly, I was feeling far too giggly to write, and much too happy to ignore them, so I started answering questions.

Not any really personal questions. The Cheering Charm just makes you happy, it doesn’t make you stupid..

What... what kinds of questions did you answer?

Well, first I laughed that they must be blind never to have noticed you before. I mean, I’ve been writing in you constantly, for three years. Harry said, "Well how were we supposed to know you weren’t just doing homework?" Then I said, "Well, Ron, at least you should have figured it out–after all, I gave you your own journal for Christmas!" And do you know what he said?

He said, "Oh, it’s a journal? So that’s what it’s for." And then I realized that we’d been in such bad moods with each other at Christmastime that I’d never even had a chance to explain the present- I’d just sort of thrown it at him. He actually thought I’d given him a notebook for classes! I said, "What do you think I am? I don’t give homework presents for Christmas! I’m not that much a know-it-all!"

"Oh, yes you are," Ron and Harry said together.

At that point, I wasn’t feeling very cheery anymore, and I started pouting, but Ron hit me with another charm. He had more questions. I started giggling again, and I told him that I’ve written about both him and Harry in here, and that I’ve recorded practically every single thing that’s ever happened to us at Hogwarts. But the best part was, I told them that my very first impressions of both of them are in here, even from the first time I saw them on the Hogwarts Express! Oh, they begged me to read those.

GWEN! No way! Do you think I’m insane?? I just laughed and laughed at them. It was incredibly funny to see them both so desperately curious. Especially Ron. Harry’s not too interested anymore, but Ron’s still being really nosy. I just peeked through the bed-curtains and he’s looking over here, trying to see what I’m writing. How annoying. How rude. You know, I think this second Cheering Charm is wearing off, too. I’m starting to get mad. How dare he do that? How dare he put a spell on me and then ask about my personal, private diary? Horrible! I’m awfully glad you’re enchanted, Gwen. I wouldn’t put it past Ron to try and read you. But he’ll never know my password, so hah!

Yes. Ouch, my lip is throbbing–it’s really swollen. I could just kill Ron. But I guess I’ll let him alone, since his leg’s already broken, and he–and–and Harry–and last night!

Last night.

The charm’s worn off- it must be- I can concentrate again. Gwen, last night, last night! You’ll never believe what’s happened. You’ll never–it’s not–I promise I’m not crazy even though you’re going to think I am–I don’t even know how to tell you. There’s so much, there’s too much.

Oh, Gwen, I can’t start with that part, that’s the very end. I have to go all the way back to the beginning, to Hagrid, to when we left the castle and sneaked down to his cabin underneath the Invisibility Cloak. That seems like it was weeks ago, so much has happened. Really, it’s shocking. I was there and I still don’t believe it.

Well tell me! Start where ever you want! You three went down to Hagrid’s under the cloak, and then....?

And then.... how do I do this? This is impossible. I think I have to start much further back. Back when Harry’s dad went to school here. When James Potter was friends with Sirius Black.

It has everything to do with him. Listen. Back when he was friends with James Potter, there were sort of a band of four friends. Sirius, James, Professor Lupin- which I should have figured out before, but I was so busy with everything else–and the fourth was Peter Pettigrew. They were all best friends, a really tight-knit group, and the only one who wasn’t really strong, and really bright, was Pettigrew. He was the weakest of the four.

Now you remember what I told you before, about Sirius being the Potters’ secret-keeper? And how he killed Pettigrew?

It’s just important, I wanted to remind you of it– it’ll make it easier to explain. everything that went on–

GWEN!!! What do you THINK? Ron just hobbled over here on a crutch, to try and read you! I can’t even believe him! He threw aside the curtain–but don’t worry, I slammed you really fast.

Oh, I’m sorry! But I didn’t want him to peek–he’s such a.... he’s such a.... well, you know what!

And Harry thinks it’s just so funny. Oh yes, ha ha ha. I guess I’m going to have to tell you everything later. I know that’s awful, you must be really worried, but honestly, Gwen, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. Harry and Ron and I- we’re all okay, and I’ll give you the details once I’m back up in my room, in Gryffindor. I just don’t want to risk having you open any longer. If he should see my password!

Shut me, then–gently please. But you’d better tell me what’s going on VERY SOON!

I will. Madam Pomfrey says we can leave here at lunchtime–although now she’s saying Ron might have to stay in here a bit longer. She’s telling him off for getting up out of bed before his bones were properly mended, and it serves him right if they don’t! Trying to peek– what a nerve. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to write in you in the common room anymore. I’ll be too nervous that my password will show.

I can do that?

Well, then, I will. Thanks, Gwen.

Oh, no, I have to shut you now. Madam Pomfrey’s left the room, and I don’t think Ron really cares how much trouble he gets in, because he’s trying to get out of bed again. I don’t know if he’s just trying to tease me or what, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ll come back soon, and tell you all about last night. ‘Bye!

June 8

Okay, Gwen. I’m ready to tell you everything. Ginny and I are lolling around outside, and she’s going to tell me if the boys come. So I can just lie here and enjoy the sunshine, and talk to you! Where I did I leave off?

Yes. Well just keep that in mind, and I’ll start from Hagrid’s, when we went to say goodbye to Buckbeak.

Okay. When we got down there, Buckbeak was tethered in the pumpkin patch. Hagrid was just waiting. Helpless. It was awful to see him so helpless. I told him we’d stay with him, but he said no — we’d get in trouble — that Dumbledore was coming down to be with him. I was crying my eyes out, but I didn’t want Hagrid to see it and feel worse, so I started going around, making tea.

That’s when the first unbelievable thing happened. I picked up the milk jug and turned it over — and Scabbers fell out.

What?! Scabbers is alive? How?!

Very, very much alive. Ugh. Anyway, Ron was amazed, to say the very least. He grabbed up Scabbers, who was looking really sick and scared, and struggling to get away. I thought about Crookshanks and all I wanted to say was HAH! I was right! Scabbers didn’t get eaten! But under the circumstances, I kept quiet — I didn’t get a chance to say anything at all, because right then we had to jump back under the Invisibility Cloak and get out of there. Dumbledore and the Minister and the executioner were coming.

We were horrified. They really were going to execute Buckbeak in cold blood — I saw the axe. We saw Buckbeak on our way out and the poor thing was all tethered up — we didn’t want to go, we wanted to save him — but Hagrid told us to go quick, and not to listen.

I didn’t want to listen. I knew I couldn’t stand it. But Ron kept stopping because Scabbers was going berserk trying to get away from us. I thought at the time that Scabbers was just confused and nervous to be back with people again, but I didn’t care, I just wanted to get away from there. I didn’t want to hear the execution. But Scabbers wouldn’t stay put. And a moment alter, we heard a horrible sound. An axe thudding through something. And then Hagrid started howling

Yes, but first, it seemed that he died.

I promise, it will make sense later. But there’s a lot more I have to explain before that. So. We heard the axe and I just about fainted. It was... there aren’t words for how sickening it was. I was choking on tears, and Ron was pale as a ghost and Harry tried to go back to Hagrid, but we had to keep on walking toward the castle. We had no choice.

All this time, Scabbers was still writhing around, desperately trying to get away from Ron. And then I saw why — or thought I did. Crookshanks was out there. My Crookshanks. And he was coming at us, sneaking up to try and grab Scabbers — oh, I only wish he had! But then we never would have known —

If anything had happened to Scabbers, we never would have known the truth! Just.... sorry, just listen, I’ll try to quit getting ahead of myself.

Scabbers finally bit Ron and got away, scampering across the grass. Crookshanks pursued. And then, as if things weren’t already bad, Ron threw off the Invisibility Cloak and bolted after them. I was sure we’d be caught, but what was there to do? Harry and I looked at each other, and sprinted after Ron, throwing off the cloak as we went so we’d be able to catch up.

When we did catch up, Ron was on the ground. He’d knocked Crookshanks aside and had Scabbers clutched in his hands. We tried to get him back under the cloak before we were seen, but before we could do it, a huge black dog came bounding out of nowhere.

Gwen, it looked like a Grim — the Grim that Professor Trelawney’s been trying to scare us with all year — the death omen. Honestly. And you know I don’t believe in that, but my heart — my heart stopped beating for a second, it really did. Especially because it knocked Harry down and I thought it was going to chew his head off. But it didn’t want Harry. It wanted Ron.

It grabbed Ron’s arm in its teeth and dragged him away from us. I hardly knew what was happening — everything was at high speed — we chased after Ron, but couldn’t get close enough to help him. The dog had dragged him into the shade of the Whomping Willow, and somehow the tree roots opened up — and the Grim dragged Ron underground. Ron tried to hook his leg around a branch, but the dog was stronger — it kept pulling — Ron’s leg gave this horrible SNAP! and he disappeared into the Willow.

Harry and I threw ourselves through the Willow branches, trying to get to that opening, but it had started to whomp us really hard — it got Harry across the face, and gashed me across the shoulder. We couldn’t get through. I just kept whimpering, "Help, help, please," without really knowing who I was talking to.

And then Crookshanks did something that made me feel ill all over. He ran up and pressed a knot in the base of the tree, and made it stop whomping. He KNEW. And then Harry said he’d seen my cat together before with that horrible Grim, running across the grounds. I was so frightened. Ron was down there, and Crookshanks was part of what was happening. My mouth just dried up — all those times when Ron said there was something funny about Crookshanks, and he was right. And all I could think of was that if I had only listened to him, maybe he wouldn’t be underground being eaten alive by the Grim. It was an awful moment. There was nothing for it but to go underground and try to find him. So Harry and I slid under the tree roots, into a tunnel, and followed Crookshanks along it.

Yes, exactly! Well done. This was that tunnel. Which meant it led directly into Hogsmeade, just like the other ones. We went along it as fast as we could — it seemed to take forever because my mind wouldn’t stop imagining pictures of Ron getting dragged under by that dog, and what it might be doing to him now — oh, awful, awful. I made myself run the whole way.

Finally we came out into the inside of a dark, destroyed house. The windows were all boarded up. I realized that if we were in Hogsmeade, then this could only be the inside of the Shrieking Shack. The most haunted residence in Britain. I was already terrified, but it was twice as bad being in that house. And then we heard a noise upstairs, and there wasn’t any time to be afraid because Ron was up there. Harry and I climbed the stairs to a hallway and followed the sounds to a door, which Harry kicked wide open — just like something out of a film, I swear.

Crookshanks was sitting on a big four poster bed. Ron was next to him, clutching his broken leg, but otherwise okay. I was so glad to see him alive that I ran over to him — so did Harry — but Ron was shaking his head and moaning, "Not a dog, Harry it’s a trap — he’s the dog. He’s an Animagus."

Behind us, someone shut the door with a bang, and we whirled around to find that we were all alone, in the Shrieking Shack, with Sirius Black.

It was easily the most frightening moment of my life. My voice was gone. I felt it go. I had my wand out, but I couldn’t think of a single spell, and I just stared at him, taking in his waxy, horrifying face and his matted black hair and yellow teeth. He was filthy. He looked like someone who could kill a street full of Muggles without a second thought — or kill us, without blinking an eye. And before either of us could get a grip, we’d been disarmed of our wands. I remember thinking, "Well, that’s the end." I really did. I knew we were dead.

Black actually thanked Harry for coming after Ron. Said it would make his job much easier — said that Harry’s father James would have done it for him. Harry gasped and shook. I knew what he was thinking — how dare that disgusting, murdering traitor talk about his father? How dare he make such a sick, cruel joke of his death? Harry tried to go at Black — he didn’t care what happened to him, I could tell. He’s never afraid. But I wouldn’t let him go, and neither would Ron.

He got up. I don’t really know how — his leg looked too bent to stand on, but he came over, grabbed the other side of Harry and said to Black, "If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us, too!" Black’s eyes flickered with — well, at the time, I thought it was malice. But now I know what it really was — Sirius recognized himself in Ron.

Sorry, sorry. Getting ahead. Anyway, Black told him to lie down before he hurt his leg anymore, and I remember thinking that was weird, since he’s the one who broke Ron’s leg in the first place. But Ron just stood there and said, "Did you hear me? You’ll have to kill all three of us!" And Gwen, even though I was pretty sure Black really would kill all three of us, I couldn’t help but admire Ron for standing up to him.

Black grinned. "There’ll only be one murder here tonight," he said. Harry went ballistic. Started yelling, fighting, I couldn’t hold him — he threw himself forward and cried, "HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Then it was chaos, mass chaos — Harry was beating on Black — Ron threw his body on Black’s wand hand — I kicked him in... well, really badly — Crookshanks sunk his claws into Harry — and somehow, some way, Harry came up holding his own wand. He pointed it directly at Black’s heart.

No. Although looking back on it... how unreal. Harry almost did kill him. I still don’t understand what stopped him. I couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t breathe, just flattened against the wall and waited. Ron was breathing really hard, looking sickly green from standing up on that leg. And Harry and Black just stared into each other’s eyes. I don’t think Harry even knows a deadly curse, but the force of his hatred would have been enough. His eyes were like — I don’t know, Harry’s a mystery to me. It was — the tension between them— so incredible. And Harry really did almost kill him. What a nightmare.

At that point, I snatched up my own wand and Ron’s. My lip was bleeding from the struggle. Black started talking. He asked Harry to please listen to the whole story before killing him, but Harry didn’t move his wand away. And then Crookshanks, to my horror, jumped up on Black’s chest to protect him. I felt I might be sick. I thought Crookshanks must be pure evil, to be working to intimately with Black like that. But before Harry could decide what to do about killing either of them, the door burst open, and Professor Lupin came through, into the room.

He’d been watching the Marauder’s Map all night. Remember how he confiscated it from Harry after his last illegal trip to Hogsmeade? Well, Lupin knew how to work the map, because he wrote it. They all did, the four of them — Lupin, Pettigrew, Black and Potter. They called themselves Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, and they’d made the map so that it would show everyone on the Hogwarts grounds at all times, even under an Invisibility Cloak.

Lupin figured we’d try and sneak down to Hagrid’s tonight, so he wanted to keep an eye on us, in case.... in case what happened, happened. When he saw Sirius Black on the map, he rushed to help us. But it wasn’t only Black he’d seen on the map, Gwen. He’d seen another person with us, somebody we didn’t even know was there. He’d seen two people get dragged into the Willow, not just Ron.

He’d seen Peter Pettigrew, Gwen. Peter Pettigrew was with us on the Marauder’s Map.

No. It’s not true. Let me explain, the same way Lupin and Sirius explained it to us, once we let them. And we weren’t too keen to listen to any explanations, I can tell you. We made it as difficult as possible, though I can hardly blame us. It seemed like the world had turned upside down when Lupin, who we’d always loved and trusted, disarmed us of our wands again. I was absolutely sick at heart when, after a brief conversation that I didn’t understand, Lupin crossed the room and embraced Black like a brother. I went into a screaming fit — I knew he must be evil — and all along, I’d known about him, I’d known what he was, and I hadn’t told anybody. He tried to calm me down, but I wouldn’t listen, I finally cracked and shouted "Harry, don’t trust him, he’s a werewolf!"

If Harry and Ron were surprised, Lupin was stunned. I told him I’d known about him all year, ever since Snape’s werewolf essay, because of the lunar charts and his boggart being a full moon. He laughed a harsh little laugh and told me I was the cleverest witch of my age he’d ever met, which, under the circumstances, I could hardly take as a compliment. I told him if I’d been a little cleverer, I’d have told everyone what he really was. He said the staff already knew about him, and Ron lost it. "Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" And Harry pointed to Sirius and shouted, "YOU’VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" It didn’t seem any of us could ever trust him again.

Finally, though, Lupin did the first thing that had any calming effect on us whatsoever. He gave us back out wands and said, "There. You’re armed, we’re not. Now will you listen?" He was always a good teacher. He knew just how to get our attention in class. And so, we listened.

They told us how, back at Hogwarts when they’d all been friends, the four of them had secretly, illegally, become Animagi. Well, Lupin already was one, being a werewolf, but the other three did it, too, so that there was a wolf, a rat, a dog, and a stag. That’s how they got those nicknames, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. They did it to keep Lupin company when he transformed, so it wouldn’t be such an awful fate for him. Lupin would have to go under the Whomping Willow (it was planted for him, to protect other students from him when he was a wolf) and into the Shrieking Shack (also built for him, so he’d have somewhere to run wild when he went on his rampages. That’s why people think it’s haunted — Lupin was in there howling and tearing things apart.) But when he had his Animagi friends, it made the transformations bearable. Are you with me so far, Gwen?

So. The four of them more or less broke every school rule EVER. And there was somebody who wanted to catch them more than life — someone who was to them what Malfoy is to Ron and Harry and me — someone who just wanted to get them expelled and make them miserable. Severus Snape.

The same. Snape was in their year at Hogwarts, and they hated each other. He wanted to find out where Lupin was off to every month, so he could tell everyone. He was so interfering that Sirius finally decided to play a deadly trick on him. He told him to prod the Whomping Willow with a stick and go underground if he wanted to know what was the matter with Lupin. Of course Snape did it. He went under, and started toward the Shrieking Shack. If he’d gotten there, he’d have met a fully grown werewolf —

Yes. But Harry’s dad found out about what Sirius had done, went under, and pulled Snape back. But though he saved him, it was too late for Lupin — Snape had seen what he was. So he’s always known Lupin’s a werewolf, and he’s had a mortal grudge against all four of them ever since that trick. He’s been trying to convince Dumbledore all year that Lupin’s the one helping Sirius get into Hogwarts.

No. But unfortunately, nobody’s going to believe that except me, Harry and Ron, because Snape was in the Shrieking Shack with us that night.

Hiding under Harry’s Invisiblity Cloak. He picked it up from where we dropped it, and followed us underground.

He went to bring Lupin the Wolfsbane Potion — it was a full moon that night — and the Marauder’s Map was still out on Lupin’s desk, showing where we were. He saw us and came after Sirius and Lupin with a vengeance. When he threw off the cloak and pointed his wand at them, he looked mentally deranged. Insane with joy. So excited to finally have caught Black and Lupin after all these years that he wouldn’t listen to reason — he wanted to turn them over to the dementors and get their souls sucked out. But he didn’t get a chance. Because by that point in the story, Ron and Harry and I believed that there was something important to hear from Black and Lupin, and we didn’t want them killed. Plus, it didn’t hurt that we all hate Snape. We all tried to disarm him at the same time — and ended up knocking him out with a bloody head.

I know. So far this year, I’ve smacked Malfoy, dropped class, sneaked into a forbidden tunnel, and knocked a teacher unconscious after breaking out of school and into Hogsmeade to go after a deadly felon. I’m doing very well, I suppose, if I’m planning to live my life as a criminal.

Anyway, with Snape out cold, we were free to hear the rest of the story, and you WILL NOT BELIEVE IT. Gwen? Brace yourself for the impossible.

Sirius Black was NOT the Potters’ secret keeper. It was Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black was strong, smart, the Potters’ dearest friend — he was the obvious choice — he knew Voldemort would assume it was him. So at the last minute, he persuaded them to choose Pettigrew. Weaker, less intelligent, and much less obvious, Pettigrew seemed the perfect bluff. And he, too, had always been one of the Potters’ dearest friends.

But Pettigrew was a traitor. His being weak had led him to the dark side. He was too afraid to fight Voldemort, so instead he joined him. And it was the most triumphant moment of his career as a spy, to be able to sell the Potters’ lives to his master. The second he was made their secret keeper, he went to Voldemort and betrayed them.

Everybody thinks that Pettigrew tracked down Sirius Black, and that he was killed in the same mad blast that took all those Muggles. But it was Sirius who tracked down Pettigrew. It was Sirius who was grief-stricken, looking for revenge. And it was Pettigrew who blew apart that street, after yelling that Sirius was the traitor for a lot of witnesses to hear, of course. He framed Sirius.

I know. Brilliant, isn’t it. He cut it off himself to fake his death — that’s how disgusting, twisted, warped, evil, and insane he is. And then he blasted the street, made a mess of everything, turned into his Animagus shape, which no one knew about, and disappeared down into the sewers with the rest of the rats.

Rats..... rats...... oh no, you said — you said Pettigrew was with Ron when he got dragged into..... Peter Pettigrew’s Animagus wasn’t..... but Hermione —

Gwen. Gwen believe me. I thought it was madness. But what rat do we know that has a toe missing? What rat has been hanging ‘round, in perfect position to strike at Harry Potter if the Dark Lord should rise again? What rat do we know that faked his own death for the second time, and framed my cat???

Scabbers. Scabbers all the time. When Black broke into Gryffindor Tower and slashed Ron’s bed? He was after Scabbers. When Crookshanks was obsessed with catching him, to the point of it being abnormal? He knew it wasn’t a normal rat. Ron told them they were both mental. But Lupin and Sirius proved it on the spot.

They forced Pettigrew to show himself. Scabbers became Peter Pettigrew right there, in front of all of us. Ron looked like someone had gutted him. I was just... just.... I mean, I’m still.... and Harry. The way he looked at him. Facing the true murderer of his parents after all this time. And Pettigrew was just groveling like the rat he is, groveling and begging for his life, appealing to all of us, trying to work on us — as if he could. No one loves Harry more than the four people who were in that room with him — and Dumbledore. No one would touch Pettigrew. Because he admitted he’d betrayed James and Lily Potter. He admitted it.

Is an innocent man.

Unreal. Lupin and Black wanted to kill Pettigrew on the spot. They told him he should have died for James and Lily, rather than betray his friends. They wanted to take revenge for Harry’s parents, and for Black’s twelve wasted years is Azkaban. They pointed their wands and I turned my face away to the wall — I couldn’t bear it.

But Harry dove in front of Pettigrew. He wouldn’t let them kill him. Said he didn’t reckon his parents would have wanted their friends to become murderers, just for that piece of filth. He said he wanted to turn Pettigrew in, instead, to let him serve the rest of his foul life in Azkaban. He... he spared him. Harry spared the murderer of his own mum and dad. I don’t really know why. No one could believe it. But since Harry’s the only one with a right to decide, Black and Lupin didn’t kill Pettigrew, however much they wanted to. Instead, we all got out of there, with the intention of taking Pettigrew back up to the castle so that we could right all the wrongs of the past.

Lupin bound up Ron’s broken leg with magic and then he and Ron chained themselves to either side of Pettigrew so he couldn’t get away. Ron looked dead set. He’s taking Scabbers’ true identity rather hard.

No, me either. It’s so awful — Scabbers has been with his family for twelve years — sleeping in their beds — they’ve been taking care of that evil — Harry’s best friend’s family has been harboring the traitor who killed his own parents — oh, I just can’t think of it without getting queasy. It couldn’t be any more disgusting.

We left the Shrieking Shack — Black floated Snape along with us (he’d been unconscious since we disarmed him) and on the way out of the tunnel, something wonderfully touching happened. You know how Sirius is Harry’s godfather? Well, he’s also his guardian. James and Lily wanted him to take Harry, if anything bad should ever happen to them.

Yes. But obviously, Sirius wasn’t available to honor his obligation. As soon as his name was clear with Harry, however, he stepped right up to the job. He really wanted to take care of Harry. I could hear it in his voice when he invited Harry to come and live with him. And Gwen, you know how Harry despises living the Dursleys; he agreed on the spot — and his voice... was barely stable. To live with his parents’ best friend, after never knowing them — to be with his godfather -- that’s the next best thing, isn’t it? The two of them got all choked up, and so did I. It’s so sad, Gwen.

Oh, and it was! While it lasted.... oh, Gwen.

Well.... the story has a.... a strange ending, and here’s why. When we got out of that Marauder’s Map tunnel, we hit a full moon night. Professor Lupin hadn’t taken his potion, because of all the chaos. And so he turned into a werewolf right off, and we all had to make a break for it.

Oh, yes. Nothing’s ever simple for us, Gwen. Ron was chained to Pettigrew, who was chained to Lupin, who was turning into a monster. Sirius transfigured into Padfoot, so he could hold him back. But that wasn’t the worst of it. When Lupin transformed, he dropped his wand. Before anybody could think, Pettigrew had picked it up and shot a stunning spell at Ron. Ron dropped to the ground, Pettigrew transfigured into Wormtail, and like the rat he is, he scampered away into the night.

He escaped.

Now we’ve no proof of what he did to the Potters.

Nobody’s going to believe a werewolf. Nobody’s going to listen to Sirius; they think of him as a madman. Nobody listens to children. And Snape was unconscious, so there’s no objective witness. It’s no good. Black cannot be cleared. He’s as guilty now as he ever was — except we know he’s innocent. It’s absolutely awful. And it didn’t end there. Remember I told you how the dementors have permission to perform the Kiss on Black if he’s found? To suck out his soul through his mouth?

We heard Padfoot howling behind us. Sirius. We didn’t want to leave Ron stunned on the ground — he looked awful — but we had to help Sirius right away, so we sprinted toward the sound. He was himself again, a man on his knees, surrounded by about a hundred dementors. Harry and I whipped out our wands, and Harry started the incantation he’d learned in his anti-dementor lessons with Professor Lupin. "Expecto Patronum!" He said it over and over, and I knew I should have been helping him, but there were so many dementors... my blood froze, my heart went numb, my mind shut down..... and I passed out.

Yes, they were. I don’t know how Harry stayed on his feet, the dementors are worst for him, because he hears his parents being murdered when they get near him. Yet he stayed conscious when I couldn’t — all the cleverness and spells I’m so good at — and I collapsed. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital wing.

I know. I woke up, and knew right where I was. I heard voices. It was Snape and Fudge, standing in the hall, discussing the events of the evening. Only their version was horribly wrong. Harry woke up and I hushed him so we could listen.

They thought that Black had Confunded us with magic. They thought he was still guilty. They were trying to work out what on earth made those dementors back away from him — they thought it must have been Dark magic, I guess, because Black wasn’t dead.

I’ll explain, it happens later.

All right, fine then, it happened before, just — oh, this is so much harder than I —

Thanks, I’m almost there, Gwen, I promise. The most important thing at that moment was that Black was still alive, but he was imprisoned upstairs, and the dementors were going to be performing the Kiss on him at any moment. He was just having his final words.

Well obviously, Harry and I went berserk claiming that Sirius was innocent — and obviously no one would listen to us. Cornelius Fudge just thought we’d had a hard night, and so did Madam Pomfrey. Snape brushed us off, saying we were Confunded. But Dumbledore — oh, thank the stars for him, Gwen — Dumbledore had spoken to Sirius. And probably because he’d known him long ago, he believed him. Which meant that he believed us, too.

Even so, there was nothing he could do. The Ministry’s given the dementors permission to perform the Kiss upon finding Black, and the dementors don’t know any better. Plus, nobody’s about to give a retrial to Sirius Black. He killed the Potters, and that’s that. His only chance of keeping his soul was to escape from upstairs. But he was guarded by dementors, so there was no escape. Unless.... unless somebody were to change the past. Unless someone could turn back time.

Which I can. Which is not allowed. But every once in awhile, Gwen, I’ve learned that the rules are bendable. So, on Dumbledore’s order, I threw my Time-Turner over Harry’s neck so we were both in it together — you should have seen his face, Gwen, he looked so confused it was almost funny — and then I turned the hourglass three times. Three hours back in time, to the time that we were just heading down to Hagrid’s.

It was the weirdest thing we’d ever done. And trying to explain it to Harry — well, let’s just say he was saucer-eyed when I told him that that’s how I’ve been managing all my classes. (And when I told Ron later on, he was so angry that I hadn’t told him, really, he was completely offended. But I promised I’d keep it secret! Honestly, what was I supposed to do?) In any case, we lived the whole night over again, only this time we were spectators, and stayed above ground.

And this time, one thing changed. Buckbeak did not die.

We rescued him from Hagrid’s pumpkin patch once we knew the executioner had seen him there, so that Hagrid wouldn’t be punished for setting him free. We abducted a hippogriff, and stole into the Forbidden Forest to wait until Sirius was locked upstairs in the castle. Our plan was to fly Buckbeak up to the window, break Sirius out, and set them both free.

It was beyond everything. We hid in the forest and watched ourselves get whomped by the Willow. We watched Sirius come up as a dog, and drag poor Ron under the tree. We saw Snape take the Invisibility Cloak and come after us. We saw us all emerge again — watched as Lupin turned into a werewolf, and had to stand by as Pettigrew escaped a second time. It was horribly difficult to let that happen again, but we had to. We only had time to save Buckbeak and Sirius, and we had to get through the whole thing without breaking the laws of time — we couldn’t be seen. There was no way to help ourselves.

And then we got to the part of the night when the dementors had come after us. I’ll explain how they were driven back. I passed out before I saw any of this, but Harry told me, while we were waiting with Buckbeak, that someone across the lake had shot an enormous Patronus our way. It was so powerful that it rounded up all the dementors and cast them out. It must have been blinding — amazing. And then he said it galloped back across the water to the wizard who had sent it, and he saw the wizard reach out to touch it.

I asked Harry that, and he said.... Gwen, he said he thought it looked like his dad. Like James Potter. It was an odd moment. Very gently I said, "Harry, your dad’s, well... dead." I don’t know how I dared to say it, really, but at this point in our friendship, what’s the point of pretending? I felt for Harry, but I knew it couldn’t be true. He just nodded. He knew it was insane, but he had seen his father, he was sure of it. He was sure enough to run into the forest at the right time, to the place where the Patronus had come from, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he thought.... had really happened.

I waited and waited, feeling very strange, almost hoping Harry was right, knowing that he wasn’t. Finally he came back, pale, looking like he’d just seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he had.

James Potter didn’t make the Patronus. He is Harry’s Patronus. The wizard who saved us was Harry himself. He was over there, trying to find his father, and then he realized he’d seen himself across the lake, (they say he looks exactly like James Potter) and that it was he who had sent the Patronus, from the future to the past. So he shouted, "Expecto Patronum!" and because he knew he’d already done it, he was confident that he could produce the giant, silvery force that galloped across the lake and saved our lives.

And you know how a wizard’s Patronus is always unique? Harry’s galloped back to him, and he saw it was a stag. Prongs. His father’s Animagus. He met his father in spirit that night–the shadow of James Potter came back to save his son. Doesn’t that.... doesn’t that take your breath away?

It’s so beautiful, and so heartbreaking... and such amazingly powerful magic. That’s a first class, fully-fledged Patronus that Harry summoned. It drove back a hundred dementors. Harry’s really.... something. Sometimes I don’t know what to make of him. Actually, sometimes, he scares me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever really know him, no matter how close we are, because I’ve never been through what he’s been through. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do anything for him, the same as I would for Ron — the same as they would for me.

Oh, Gwen. I’m in tears right now. I have been, on an off, ever since. My friends are everything to me, and we’ve been through so much. But I try not to get weepy in front of them, because they’re still boys. You know.

Anyway, that’s about it. We waited until we knew Sirius had been locked upstairs in the castle, and then we flew Buckbeak up to his window before the dementors could Kiss him. He scrambled to the window looking shocked, but there was no time to explain how we’d managed it — I did Alohomora on the window lock — he clambered onto Buckbeak and we flew to the top tower. Harry and I slid off, and then Sirius rose into the sky, calling back to Harry, "You are truly your father’s son!" I was glad I was there to hear that, and to see Harry’s eyes when he heard it. I wished Ron were there. And then Sirius and Buckbeak were gone.

We ran back to the hospital wing just in time to meet Dumbledore. We’d done it. Two innocent lives were safe and we hadn’t been seen, so the laws of time were still in tact.

Of course, when Sirius was discovered missing five minutes later, there was an uproar. Snape had an absolute conniption fit when he found out Sirius Black wasn’t going to be Kissed. I’ve never seen anyone so mad — truly mad — barking mad, Ron would say. He really did bark, too — he howled. He blamed everything on Harry and me. Mostly Harry. And Snape’s right, that’s the best part of it! He’s right, and he can’t prove a thing, because Madam Pomfrey says we were in bed the whole time! And we were.

But you also were not.

I know! Isn’t it the best?!

Neither do I. Harry and I went over it all with Ron about forty times that night. And I’ve been going over it ever since. Sirius, Lupin, Pettigrew.... Potter.... It’s just too much.

It is. And it’s a LOT to write down, Gwen. My hand is killing me. And oh, dear, look at Ginny, she’s fallen asleep in the sun. She’ll be fried pink if I don’t wake her up. She sleeps just like Ron, with her mouth open. It’s sweet.

From the HOSPITAL WING, Gwen!! HONESTLY. Oh my goodness, you’re terrible. You made me blush, I can feel it.

Believe me, Gwen, I know the feeling.

I always will. I’ll come talk to you tomorrow. I’m sure there’s something I’ve left out. But ah — that’s it for today. Hand cramp.

June 9

Hi, Guinevere.

It’s Sunday. And there’s nothing to do.

Do you know what that means? Nothing to do? Do you have any idea what that feels like, after the year I’ve had? It’s like... I feel like I just jumped off a mountain and I’m falling through the air, completely free. I almost want to go to the library, just because I don’t know what to do with myself.

I won’t. Ron and Harry already stopped me from reading this morning — they’d probably explode if they found me in the library. I had pulled a book out of my stack of things I never got a chance to read this year — "An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe", which talks about the other magical schools. I read something about them last year, too, but this book is much better. It gives wonderful details. I was really getting into it.

That’s when Harry disarmed me of the book and tossed it aside. Ron pointed his wand at me and said, "Absolutely not. No way. You’re finished. Outside." I mean, he sounded exactly like my father. I said, "Let me alone, I just want to read — I haven’t had a chance to read for ages!"

Well you should have heard them. Both of them at once.

"You haven’t had a chance to — excuse me — WHAT?"

"You’re cracked-- you know that– you have to know it."

"All you’ve done for nine months is read, Hermione!"

"And with that Time-Thing, you’ve done three times as much as anybody else! I can’t BELIEVE you didn’t tell me about that thing."

"Read one more page and I’ll hex you."

"Read one more page and I’ll get Neville to hex you!"

So I went outside. It was a beautiful day. I know I’ve read a lot this year — all I meant was that I haven’t had a chance to read for pleasure, but neither of them knows what that is. Anyway, I’m glad I went outside. It was getting dull in Gryffindor anyway, listening to everybody moaning about Professor Lupin.

You see? I knew I’d left something out in my last entry. He resigned, the day after everything happened. That beast Snape told all the Slytherins about him being a werewolf, and he knew all the parents would throw a fit. So he went quietly. I don’t know what he’ll do. I’ll miss him so much — he was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher ever. We’ll never have a better one. I just hope that whoever we get next year won’t be a Quirrell or a Lockhart. No matter what, they’ll never be a Lupin. Maybe it will be a woman. That would be nice. I’d love to see what the boys would have to say to that.

So would I. Although it is too bad that Lupin had to go.

Yes. But do you know what almost makes up for it? Hagrid. Hagrid is so wonderfully happy — happier than he’s been all year. Ever since Buckbeak "escaped", he’s just had this big, marvelous grin going underneath his beard. Harry and Ron and I just had to fight back laughter when he told us all about it — we’re the only ones who really know what happened that night. Us, and Dumbledore, Sirius and Lupin.

It’s so funny, playing dumb. I’m not used to it. Everyone in the whole school has a theory about what happened, and it makes me giggle to hear them guessing. All anyone knows for sure is that the three of us sneaked out and got in trouble, Buckbeak and Sirius escaped, and Lupin resigned.

Malfoy thinks Hagrid smuggled Buckbeak out somehow. He’s furious that "that great oaf of a gamekeeper" has outdone him and his father. I’d curse him for saying things like that, but it’s hard to get angry at someone who’s so stupid.

Percy Weasley thinks Sirius’ escape has to do with mismanagement in Magical Law Enforcement. He goes on and on about how he’ll change the Ministry when he gets in. Fred and George have taken to shooting Pepper Imps at the back of his neck whenever he says anything about it. It’s mean of them, I know, but while we were outside today, Percy was talking to Penelope about the Ministry, and Fred sneaked up behind him. And Penelope was really leaning close to Percy and everything? And Fred shot an Imp at Percy’s neck, and Percy lurched forward and accidentally kissed Penelope in front of everybody! Can you even believe? Ginny and I just died of the giggles. I noticed Harry looked okay with it, but Ron made a vomiting noise. I don’t know why he thinks it’s sick. I don’t think it’s sick. Just, you know.... kind of.... well, truthfully, I think it’s kind of nice. Some people aren’t afraid to say they like each other.

Gwen, don’t. I’m not afraid, but... I can’t.

I have no idea. I don’t have to get up tomorrow if I don’t want to. I don’t have to pick up a quill. I don’t have to study, or time turn, or.... anything. I think I’ll just.... relax awhile.

You’re awful! I’m so happy to be done, that I don’t care how unlike myself I seem. I’m going to play chess with Ron for the first time in a whole year, and that’s just perfect. ‘Bye, Gwen.

June 13

GWEN! GWEN!

NOTHING! I GOT BACK MY EXAM MARKS! I PASSED EVERYTHING, I PASSED EVERYTHING, I GOT THE TOP MARKS IN THE CLASS AND EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE PERFECT FOREVER! OH, I COULD DIE OF SHEER RELIEF!

So. Hard. So incredibly hard. You know exactly how hard. And I not only passed, Gwen, I passed with almost perfect marks. Better than perfect in some cases. A hundred percent in Transfiguration. (I suppose it didn’t matter that my tortoise looked like a turtle after all!) Ninety-eight percent in Arithmancy, ninety-eight in Ancient Runes, a hundred percent in POTIONS!!! (Snape might be a lot of bad things, but he graded me fairly — he knew there was nothing he could say about that Confusing Concoction.) A hundred and thirty percent in Charms (and Professor Flitwick wrote me a note saying how impressed he is that I was able to manage everything this year. Isn’t that nice?) And Gwen, I got three hundred twenty percent on my Muggle Studies exam.

It’s possible, because I am Muggle-born. It’s possible because I know a lot about Muggles. And it’s led me to a decision. Are you ready?

Too bad! I am turning in my Time-Turner in the morning. I am dropping Muggle Studies. I checked the class schedules next year — I can keep Ancient Runes without overlapping any classes. I won’t lose sleep, or gain time. I’ll have a normal schedule again. What do you think?

Well thank you. I don’t know if it’s really common sense, or if it’s just the idea of another year like this one. Madness. That’s what it was. Absolute panicking madness. Although I’m very glad I did it. After all, you never know until you try. Also, if I hadn’t had the Time-Turner, Sirius Black would have no soul and Buckbeak would be dead. So there was a reason for everything.

And oh, by the way, Harry and Ron passed everything, too, and so did Ginny with her second year exams. Fred and George scraped by on the O.W.L.’s, and Percy got top grade N.E.W.T.s, So everybody’s fine.

Well, I’m off, Gwen. It’s the end of year feast tonight, and Gryffindor’s winning the House Cup! Mostly because of our spectacular performance in the Quidditch Final. Professor McGonagall gave the team fifty points apiece. Snape’s still in a snit about it. Plus now he’s completely enraged about the events of last Thursday night. He’s always hated Harry, but the way he looks at him now is... actually scary. I sometimes think he’ll actually physically hurt him. That’s how much he loathes him. I know it has a lot to do with Harry’s father, and I wish Snape would grow up and get over it.

Well? It’s true. And now I get to go and look at him squirm while our house takes the Cup for the third year in a row. Hurrah, Gryffindor! I’m thoroughly pleased. Except.....

Well, I don’t want to go home tomorrow.

Just when I’m starting to enjoy myself, I get dragged off. I have to go home and miss my friends all summer, and think about everything, and not be able to tell my parents because they’d never understand, and not use magic, and just be a Muggle. I can’t wait for the day when I can be a witch all year ‘round.

That seems like FOREVER.

You know I will. See you soon, Gwen.

June 14

Hi Gwen!! You’ll never believe what just happened.

On the Hogwarts Express. We’ve just been sitting here talking about everything — I told them I dropped another class (shock, surprise, you should have seen them,) Ron was yelling at me for not telling him about the Time-Turner, Harry was being depressed about going back to the Dursleys. And then Ron tried to cheer him up by inviting him to the Quidditch World Cup this summer, if his dad can get tickets, which did make him feel a bit better... but then something even better happened. Something fluttered by the window.

A tiny owl. With a letter. From Sirius!!!

He and Buckbeak are in hiding — he’s going to let some Muggles glimpse him far from the castle so that the security will be lifted on Hogwarts next year. He gave Harry permission to go to Hogsmeade next year — he can do that, since he’s Harry’s guardian!

I mean, not that Harry needs it, with the Marauder’s Map (Lupin gave it back) and the Invisibility Cloak, but it’ll be nice for him just to walk down the high street with us like a normal person instead of sneaking up through the underground.

And Sirius is so nice, he said Ron can keep the little tiny owl, since it’s his fault Ron no longer has a rat! As if it’s his fault Scabbers was really Pettigrew — but still, isn’t that nice? And do you know what Ron did??

He held out the owl for Crookshanks to sniff. And he said, "What d’you reckon? Definitely an owl?" And Crookshanks just purred like the perfect, smart, precious kitty that he is. So Ron has an owl! And he gets along with my cat! Isn’t that marvelous? Finally, he sees that Crookshanks is amazing. It’s about time.

Oh, Hermione, you do make me laugh.

But that’s not even the best part. The best, best, BEST part? Do you want to know? I’m just dying of the I-told-you-so’s. I really am.

Sirius wrote that it was HE WHO SENT THE FIREBOLT!!!! Hah! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! So there, I was right, and I TOLD THEM SO! All that silent treatment for nothing. I tried to hold it in. At first I just said, "Ha! See, I told you it was from him!" And Ron said, "Yes, but he hadn’t jinxed it had he?" And then I tried really hard not to say anything else, but I just could NOT let Ron have the last word on this one, not after the two months of silent treatment, no thank you, absolutely NOT.

No, I was perfectly reasonable. We lapsed into silence after Harry finished the letter. He just wanted to read it over and over again, he was so happy to be in touch with his godfather. And then after about fifteen minutes, I made a little sound over toward Ron, like "Hmph!" Ron looked over.

"What’s that for?"

"Oh.... nothing."

"No, what’s that noise?"
"Well, I was just thinking":

"That’s not good."

"Hush. I was just thinking... about that Firebolt. And about, well, you know. Scabbers."

Ron sat straight up, crossed his arms, and turned around to face me, with his chess look on his face.

"Yeah?"

"I just have some observations."

"Such as?"

"Well, let’s review the year, shall we? First you were hateful to me about the Firebolt. Not that I’m still mad, because I’m really not — but I was right about that wasn’t I— Sirius Black did send it. And then you wouldn’t speak to me because I wouldn’t admit that Crookshanks hadn’t eaten Scabbers. But I was right about that, too. Crookshanks never ate anybody. Scabbers was alive all the time."

Harry laughed, and said, "Spot on with those predictions, weren’t you? Too bad you dropped out of Divination — Trelawney’d be so proud. "

But Ron just sat back. "Let’s review again," he said. "First you thought the broom was cursed. And I didn’t. And it wasn’t. There was nothing wrong with that Firebolt, was there? So you were dead wrong, got that? And then I kept telling you there was something funny about your cat, and he’s an odd one all right — he was working with Sirius Black, and trying to get at Scabbers — so I was right! Aha! Admit it!"

I know! Isn’t he just insufferable?

Wh — what?! We don’t... Gwen you can’t say things like that....

I will. I’m going to go find Ginny. Harry’s busy with his letter, and Ron’s.... oh my..... Gwen..... you’ll never believe.... he’s got his journal out and he’s writing in it. The one I gave him at Christmas.

I... I know.... and yet it’s actually happening. I think I’ll faint. I’m going to find Ginny. She’ll.... appreciate how weird this is.

I will. ‘Bye.

Gwen? Don’t talk.

I said goodbye to all of them. Harry said goodbye first, and had to go off with his Uncle Vernon. I think he’ll have a better summer, now that he’s got a convicted felon for a godfather. I doubt the Dursleys will try and bother him now, even if he did blow up his Aunt Marge last summer. They won’t want to anger Sirius. I’ll miss Harry. We both promised to write, and this summer maybe he’ll even be allowed to keep that promise.

Then I saw my parents coming, so I had to say goodbye to the Weasleys — Mrs. Weasley was there and she gave me a big hug, and then I hugged Ginny, and then I — well, I was about to hug Ron, and then I stopped. I don’t know why I stopped. I just felt like if I hugged him, it would be.... too important. Does that make sense?

No. So I didn’t. I just sort of waved a half-wave and said, ""Bye. Write to me." And he said "Yeah, all right." And then I turned to go, and he said, "Wait, Hermione, er — if my dad gets extra tickets to the Quidditch World Cup, would you want to come? I mean, I know it’s Quidditch and all, so if you think you’ll be bored, then--"

"No, I wouldn’t be bored, I want to come!" I said. And I felt.... all..... fluttery.

So he’s going to tell me when it is and everything, and then if there’s an extra ticket, I’m going to go. I know it isn’t anything. But it is. Isn’t it?

No. So anyway, that’s all. Ginny looked at me from behind Ron and I think... I think she knows. She smiled at me in a funny way, and gestured like she had a pen and paper, like "Write me about this."

Now I’m in my parents’ car, and I just.... well it’s not.... what do I do?

No. Gwen, it’s not that I don’t think you have something to say. It’s just that I want the words to be my own right now. And I’m scared. I don’t know what to think or do. I have to be normal. I just have to be.... normal. Nothing can be any different. It’s all going to be perfectly all right. I’m not going to be a girl. I’m not. I just won’t let myself. Because he’s not... he doesn’t.... and I’m not if he won’t.

I’m glad it’s summer. I need to be far away from Hogwarts for awhile. I have some things to figure out.

No, Gwen —

Honestly?

You’d say, if I was doing something stupid?

You promise?

Well. Okay then.

I need to breathe a minute. I think I’ll just go and.... watch England go by for a little bit. Talk to Mum and Dad about my classes — they’re really proud of my grades, and Dad’s especially proud that I "learned about my limits" and let go of a couple of classes. He says that now I’m smarter than Mum will ever be, and she laughed and swatted him. They’re so wonderful that they’re almost perfect. The only thing they need to do is let me shrink my teeth. Then they’ll be the absolute perfect Muggle parents. I’m going to work on them about it this summer. I know I can get them to give in. I’ll do research. I’ll build a case, like I did for Buckbeak. I’ve got practice at these sorts of things.

First, though.... first.... I think I’d like to write Ginny.

‘Bye, Gwen.

Fin

A/N: For those of you who would like to know what Ron wrote when he finally realized that his Never-Ending Notebook was meant to be a ‘journal’, please see the story entitled "Ron Rants". As I continue with the diary of book four, Ron will be ranting fairly often (how else was I supposed to get into his head and hear his thoughts on good old Vicky?) I’ll post his corresponding prat-like thoughts at the same time that I post the HQoW entries. Hope you enjoy!