Once when I was small, Millicent stuffed me into a very small cauldron head first. By the time I managed to get out, it took me fifteen minutes to find her in the Manor, and she and Pansy were eating biscuits in the south parlour. I don't enjoy sweets very much, so naturally, they promptly sat on me and shoved four biscuits into my mouth until I nearly gagged. Fortunately, I've always had a rather large mouth. I'm certain that otherwise I would have choked. They also did the exact same thing this February, without the cauldron, thankfully.
I miss Pansy quite a lot. I don't know who shall keep Millicent from crushing my ribcage when I'm seventy now. I rather wish that Wilkes weren't dead, and if I must be perfectly honest, I doubt that he is. Wasn't he already supposed to be dead? I'd rather see him locked in Azkaban. Actually, perhaps I could just take him to the Manor and lock him in between two walls until he suffocates, slowly but surely. Or I could simply lock him in a dungeon and bury him up to his neck, leave him there for a fortnight, then give him water if he were still alive. Then I'd come back in a fortnight and do the same thing until he wasted away in the dirt.
Crabbe and Goyle are, as usual, beating the rush by packing at the last moment. I was sitting in the dormitory, minding my own business, when I was hit in the face with a cockroach cluster. Needless to say, I decided it was best to leave the room.
Last evening at the ramshackle Leaving Feast, McGonagall informed us that Dumbledore's been trapped inside of a pensieve for over a week. I've no idea what sort of effect that might have on someone, but it's undoubtedly severe. I've never heard of such a thing. I wonder if Wilkes kept a pensieve.
I'm hoping that Mother and I can go on a holiday at some point over the summer, perhaps in August. I'd suggest going to Egypt, but I'm slightly concerned about the heat. Egyptians are rather dark. I'm not certain my skin could take that sort of sun. Nonetheless, perhaps I could get a very good sunblock. Or we could simply go to Iceland.
Millicent is, in fact, going to be staying at the Manor for the duration of the summer, so perhaps she can assist me in deciding what to do with the shop in Diagon Alley I received as a gift from my mother. Aside from that, I've made various and unimportant plans for the summer. I've never actually seen Finnigan while he was a horse, so that should prove interesting. I do wonder if he's been fit for horseshoes yet. I wasn't actually intending that as a threat when I began writing it, but now I'm terribly curious and can't stop wondering. When would he have had that done? Did he go to a smith? What would happen to the horseshoes when he was actually Finnigan? Finnigan's being a horse is so strange. It raises so many questions.
This morning I'm to have breakfast with Potter, and then Millicent and I have to dig into my gigantic collection of gloves so that we can remove some branches from a tree. I do hope no one minds riding the entire train home with branches.
The train leaves at half one and then I shall be gone from Hogwarts forever. I suppose I ought to have joined in on the barbaric burning of books a fortnight ago, but I thought it rather tasteless. I've given my books to the rubbish bin on the sixth floor. Everyone knows that burning magical books is dangerous.
I've become quite tired very quickly. I thought that I would be dancing merrily upon the day I was to leave Hogwarts, but now I just want to go home. Of course, this certainly doesn't mean I'm sorry to leave Hogwarts. Quite the contrary, actually. I'm simply less enthusiastic. It's rather hard to become enthusiastic about anything at the moment, though of course, I do have to pretend every once in awhile.
I've been awake for thirty minutes. The sun is already up, which isn't a surprise, given that the sun has been coming up earlier and earlier. I went to the Great Hall, but there wasn't any breakfast yet, which I suppose means the house-elves are still asleep. As it turns out, I'm not hungry anyway, though I ate nine of Crabbe's cauldron cakes before I decided that.
Mother and I are returning to the Manor tomorrow, as the term is ending and no one has any burning desire to linger around Hogwarts. Today I've got to write a letter to Millicent's mother to ask if Millicent can stay at the Manor for the summer. I've not asked Millicent, but I can't imagine she'd rather do anything else. She's still asleep, or else she hasn't come up to the common room.
Nott's packed my trunk for me, as I haven't bothered to do it myself. Everything's in the wrong order and I can't change my shoes because I don't know where he put them.
I've been looking through old photographs of Millicent's, since Pansy's parents have taken her and put her in the ground to rot. I spoke with Pansy's mother at length on Saturday. She agreed that Pansy ought to have gone into the Ministry for law, which I suppose I ought to have considered nice, but I hardly feel that too little too late is touching. Perhaps the fact that she put Pansy in a nice box of wood should be a consolation. Oddly, I don't find it to be one. Do you realise that we might as well bury people directly in the dirt? It's not as though coffins keep the bugs and worms out. I've been looking through these old photographs and for some reason, I keep thinking about the fact that Pansy's body is rotting and being eaten.
For the fourteen separate people who whispered to others while I was standing there, as though they wanted me to think that they weren't doing it intentionally, no, as a matter of fact, I am not a Death Eater. No, actually, I didn't leave dinner early to murder Pansy. And no, in case you were still wondering, I didn't know what was going on in advance. Thank you for your consideration. It means quite a bit that someone would blame me for Pansy's death, especially considering the fact that I was, in fact, the only one there who could have done something about it. I didn't even have my wand. I don't intend to discuss my father with any of you, and I swear to god that I will hit the next random person who tries to OFFER ME CONSOLATIONS ABOUT THE FACT THAT MY FATHER IS DEAD AND YOU'RE HAPPY ABOUT IT, YOU FUCKING MORONS.
If we've never spoken before, it's because I dislike you. Don't bother trying to make me like you now. The only people I'm interested in speaking with are my mother, Millicent, the Slytherins and Potter and Finnigan. Weasley is acceptable, mainly due to the fact that he seems to be frightened of me.
I don't intend to discuss this again.
I still intend to teach my mother to fly this summer. I've to purchase a new broom for her, so it shall wait until she can pick it out. I'm not entirely certain what I'm going to do when I leave Hogwarts, but for the summer I'm going to spend time with my mother and Millicent. I suppose I can put aspirations off until later.
In honour of the rapidly approaching end to my time at Hogwarts, I've decided to take all of my N.E.W.T.s wearing a badge I made in my fourth year. Of course, some modifications were necessary, but I think it's been a success. Macdougal, Macmillan, Midgen and Moon were undoubtedly sorry that they hadn't thought of wearing badges for N.E.W.T.s when I sat with them during the History of Magic exam on Monday.
If it weren't obvious, I've been doing quite well on my N.E.W.T.s. Last night Tracey Davis was crying over the idea of taking her Defence Against the Dark Arts exam, but I'm certainly not worried. I don't see why so many people have gone into fits of mental agony over this. It's not as though we didn't know we'd be taking them. Besides, they're not testing us on anything we haven't learnt, so I don't see what the difficulty is. Of course, I am quite clever, so it's difficult for me to comprehend the way the minds of the lesser than work.
Since we had a free day yesterday, I spent the morning playing Morchevi with Crabbe. I don't see why people even bother playing that with me, as I've never lost. I heard him screaming in the night, but it's his own fault for thinking he could win. Pansy and I had sandwiches for tea in the afternoon and had a long discussion about Quidditch. She was clearly enthralled by what I had to say, as she agreed with all of it. I also got more details about her row with Granger, but it's highly privileged information and I won't be sharing it.
I am, naturally, looking forward to returning to Malfoy Manor. I've not seen My Father or Mother since the Easter holidays, and I'm certain we have quite a lot to catch up on. I'd like to discuss a few things with Father, namely the shop I own in Diagon Alley as I haven't yet decided what I'd like to do with it. I don't imagine I'll spend a great deal of time with it, but it shall be a quaint summer project. I do enjoy taking on projects for the summer, as otherwise I tend to get bored and wind up being chased by house-elves. Actually, now that I've mentioned the house-elves, that reminds me.
Last night I found my dressing gown ripped to shreds, presumably by tiny elf hands, and a note on parchment that said 'un god turn deserved two' with a number of exclamation points that I can't be bothered to reproduce here. There was also a drawing of a house-elf, if you needed further proof. As soon as N.E.W.T.s are over I intend to have my revenge upon the elves. Since I do know where the kitchens are and I'll be leaving anyway, it's clear that my opportunity has at last arrived. I showed the note to Pansy, and she was quite sympathetic, unlike some of my former friends have been in regards to the terrorist house-elves.
The castle looks like a disaster. Our dormitory has a set of robes hanging from a torch and they certainly aren't mine, yet no one else sees fit to claim them. I've lost one of my shoes in the mess, and have I received an apology? No, as a matter of fact, I haven't. Instead, I received a lecture about how I haven't picked up after myself in seven years. In fact, Crabbe informed me that I deserved to have my dressing gown cut to ribbons because I left it on the floor. I'll have them know that my trunk is in impeccable order. I organised it nearly a fortnight ago and since most of my belongings have left it since then, it's still in top condition. The common room has an upturned chair and no one is bothering to turn it over. Is it really that much effort? Next thing you know a group of Hufflepuffs will rebel and tip over the house points counters.
I feel like I haven't spoken all day, which is likely due to the fact that I haven't. Everyone takes their N.E.W.T.s so quietly. Macmillan snapped at me today when I asked him why his handwriting was so large during the Astronomy portion. I could hardly help noticing. He continued bothering me, as though I haven't the right to hum during an examination, and he then demanded to know why I'd left him inadequate space on the table. It's not my fault he takes up so much of it. Midgen also seemed to think I shouldn't have brought food and beverages to the examinations. They're long. I was thirsty. Her parchment kept getting in the way of my glass, and I suppose she felt guilty for it and took it out on me. She also said that my clock was bothering her. Clearly it was making her feel inadequate, as she must have noticed that she finished a whole forty two minutes after I did.
The Hufflepuffs get stranger and stranger as the term draws to a close. I always knew this was coming. We've to take the practical examination in Astronomy this evening, and I do hope we're not going to share telescopes alphabetically as one more moment with Macmillan will likely cause me to remove all of the colour from his person. Perhaps I could just invert them so the whites of his eyes would be black. I wonder if he'd have a mental breakdown.
Now I've to go fetch my wand and have dinner with Pansy. Perhaps we can go for a stroll to avoid dining with unsavoury characters whose names rhyme with Pillicent.
Yesterday I was forced to play Quidditch with people who can't play Quidditch, as Millicent had volunteered me to play without my consent. Since we didn't have enough people for full teams, I wound up on a team with Weasley, Nott and Finch-Fletchley, as though the person planning these teams wanted to put me in my own personal pit of Hell, which is rather likely. I've never played Quidditch against Millicent, so it was a bit odd.
As Nott was playing Beater, rather early in he ploughed Millicent down, much to everyone's shock. I don't think anyone's ever knocked Millicent off her broom before, aside from when Mulligan threw an axe at her last year. Nott doesn't even play Quidditch. I don't see how he managed to attack Millicent, of all people. However, Millicent now seems to be infatuated with Nott, as she spent the rest of the day flying around him while the rest of us avoided him wisely. Perhaps the fall scrambled her brains.
Weasley was apparently dying to be Seeker for a moment, so we all switched positions and I had to play Keeper. I can see why Weasley would want to be a Seeker, given that Seekers are much better than Keepers, but who was he fooling? Millicent played Seeker as well, and it was utterly ridiculous. Why should I have to be Keeper just to satisfy Weasley's desire for glory? People were throwing a Quaffle at my head. Potter was a rather shoddy Beater as well, from what I could see. Needless to say, that match certainly didn't last very long. Millicent and Weasley simply aren't fast enough to be Seekers.
Millicent and I were supposed to revise for Herbology this afternoon, but evidently she was revising with Nott. What's so fantastic about Theodore Nott? She let him feed her cat as well. Normally she's quite fussy over who can feed her cat, but apparently Nott has a 'gentle hand.' As though I would strangle the cat while I fed it. Our N.E.W.T.s start tomorrow, and I've had to revise alone all this weekend because Millicent was busy with Nott. They had tea. They read books. For fun. Who wants to sit around reading books? Next he'll be assisting her with her stamp collection.
We aren't being tested on our ability to conjure a Patronus during N.E.W.T.s, which I imagine comes as a relief, since there were no more than five people able to do it between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. I doubt the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had better results, given that they're the less talented houses.
I've been writing out History of Magic notes for Crabbe all day, and now all I can think about is History of Magic. I had to rewrite the scroll about Pellnor Wilkes three times. I don't see what he's doing in History of Magic, anyway. Why does it include things so recent? Potter's in it as well. I don't see why I need to know that Pellnor Wilkes enjoyed gambling and whittling. In fact, My Father knew him before he died, so if I really needed to know something, I would, as always, ask My Father.
We've had our journals graded, and it seems that some people received a P or a D. I, of course, received an O. It's a rather simple project, so I don't see why no one else was able to keep up. I know that I would feel just dreadful if I couldn't get a good mark on an assignment as simple as a journal.
Now I've to go eat dinner with Pansy, as Millicent has abandoned the two of us to eat by ourselves.
I was forced to take tea with Finnigan the other day, as he deemed it fit to lecture me and force me to eat half stale lemon poppy biscuits. The Gryffindors are fickle creatures and clearly prone to fits at random moments. Like manticores, they're best left at a distance.
I have quite a few things to do today, among them writing a letter to Pansy's mother. While I fully support the rule that women ought to stay at home and tend to the cleaning, people of mine and Pansy's stature have servants to do that sort of thing. I see no problem with Pansy working at the Ministry, as she's quite clever. Pansy's mother is a rather docile woman, so I imagine that a strongly worded letter shall do the trick.
We had Charms this morning, and I'm far more annoyed with Charms than usual. We've been learning the Patronus Charm and I think it's useless. Unless Flitwick is trying to tell us we're all going to wind up in Azkaban, I can't see how this shall ever come in handy in life. They've wisely chosen not to let loose the Dementors on Hogsmeade this time around with Pettigrew, and as I don't intend to visit Azkaban, I shan't be interacting with Dementors ever again. Unless, of course, Potter goes insane, kills several people and winds up in Azkaban, in which case I'd have to visit so that I could eat a three course meal in front of him.
As I was saying, I see no point in these lessons and find them stupid.
Evidently our journals are being graded as I type. It's quite amusing to see that so many people panicked at this news. I didn't know we were actually going to be graded on them, but you'd think others would have remembered that these are homework. Once again, I rise above the masses.
The library is an utter disaster area. It looks as though a pack of creatures was set loose in it. It took me over an hour to find a book this morning, and every time things are put back together, some riff-raff inevitably destroys everything again. Why would you try to make a mess of the library during exam time? Idiots. Everyone is an idiot. How is anyone supposed to find anything? Madam Pince will turn to booze before the fortnight's through.
A first year was reduced to tears in the common room last night. I suspect it shan't live to be a seventh year, as if it's crying over first year exams, O.W.L.s will surely kill it off. Apparently forgetting that I am no longer a prefect, Nott asked me to use my superior talents to make it stop, but when I told it to shut up it only cried more. Children. When I have children, they'll certainly not run around untamed like that.
Whilst speaking to Professor Snape last week, it occurred to me that I would be an excellent asset to any professional Quidditch team. Of course, I'd realised this before, especially as I was accepted to the Chudley Cannons, but I'd not given it much thought. I may decide to play a few years of Quidditch professionally, though I imagine I'll wait until a few years have passed after Hogwarts. I'm certain I'll need that much time to recover. Finnigan also inquired of my plans after Hogwarts. Everyone seems ridiculously enthralled by what everyone else is doing, and I simply do not care what any of you are going to do once you've finally left my life. Why is everyone so sentimental? How can one emote over the fact that there's so little time left when we've had to live, eat and sleep amongst the same people for seven years? Lord, you'd think everyone would be as eager to get away as I am. I can't imagine why you'd want to spend even more time with someone after seven years of irritating socialising.
People are promising to look each other up and send owls, but I don't see the point. Am I supposed to care that Longbottom may be working (fittingly) at St Mungo's? Besides, all of you who are trying to guarantee that you won't lose touch are morons. Everyone does. You're not going to spend afternoons lunching with the witch who sat three seats down from you in Transfiguration. Oh, sure, you can act as though you will now, but everyone knows you make better associates once you've left school. Hardly anyone here will care about anyone else within two years' time. Live with it.
WEASLEY HAS REMOVED HIS HAND. HE JUST WAVED AT ME FROM ACROSS THE LIBRARY AND THERE WAS ONLY A STUMP. HE REMOVED HIS HAND AND OWLED IT TO MADAM POMFREY. TO 'FIX' IT. THERE IS NO LONGER A HAND. WHY? BECAUSE ONE OF HIS HANDS IS LONGER THAN THE OTHER. HE DETACHED HIS HAND FOR REPAIRS.
While the rest of you were straining your way through lessons on Friday, Millicent and I were in a forced sleep in the hospital wing. You see, early in the hours of Friday morning we were dragged to the infirmary and drugged by Madam Pomfrey. She gave us Sleeping Potions and our Sleep Duel was murdered. I do think Millicent's potion kicked in before mine, but I shall be generous and agree to a draw as it didn't end on our terms.
All in all, the Sleep Duel was quite successful until the staff stepped in. We'd been up for nearly 168 hours, which is well under the record, so there was no danger. The only reason anyone even stepped in was because the Slytherin couch was set on fire.
First of all, despite the fact that everyone's been asking, we've not divulged this information to anyone, so those of you who've heard that we burnt the couch to do some sort of ritualistic ceremony have received the wrong information. As have those of you who've asked me if I truly set a couch on fire because I thought it was Millicent, though I do think that's a better guess. We were cold, you morons. We mistook the couch for wood for the fire, which is a perfectly easy mistake to make. Everything would have been fine if Queenie Greengrass hadn't come up to the common room and started screaming. Professor Snape got there pretty quickly, and before we could even calmly explain, Sinistra, McGonagall and Black came pouring in and we were carried off to hospital. It was all rather dramatic, particularly with the water they were spraying from their wands all over the place.
That was around half three in the morning on Friday, and when I finally woke up in the infirmary it was just after one o'clock Saturday morning. Naturally I got up to leave, but Pomfrey made us stay there all day Saturday and most of Sunday. She kept shoving potions disguised as soup down our throats, and we had to do our homework while we were there. We did have quite a few visitors, who for some reason or another seemed to be worried that we were going to die or something equally unrealistic. Nott asked to buy one of our candles, which is hardly surprising. I'm certain that everyone wants one of our candles, but we don't know where we put the original and I've no idea what it even looked like. You shall all have to do without.
Crabbe brought us chocolate, which I suppose would have been thoughtful if he'd remembered that I don't particularly like chocolate, which meant he ate mine and most of Millicent's. Unfortunately, we missed Goyle's birthday while we were being pampered, so I had to give him his gift last evening when we returned.
Potter, who had been conspicuously avoiding us in cowardly fear of getting himself bewitched, visited as though to check that we'd really slept. He looked quite suspicious until Pomfrey informed him that she'd given us potions. Really, I don't see why everyone was avoiding us, as it's not as though we were contagious. Last Saturday evening, I had a meeting scheduled with Potter, which I do believe went fairly acceptable, all thanks to my maturity and ability to settle things in a far better fashion than Gryffindors. We found Millicent in the middle of the dungeons. Actually, she tripped me with her massive leg, so I actually stumbled across her rather than found her. Anyway, Potter proved to be an even larger wimp than we were already aware, as he fell asleep. We used a clever Signature Charm on his feet, if you were wondering.
Of course not. No. I'm updating my journal. Did you just fall asleep? Your eyes are opened suspiciously wide. I've no idea where the moustache came from. You haven't explained the toothpaste. No. Perhaps. Professor Binns didn't seem to notice. Well, perhaps you always have things coming out of your nose. I did not twirl it. I've no idea what you're talking about. You're the one who's cheating. We've been awake six days now. Did your cat just scratch my leg? Yes she is. She's right there. You moron. She's clear as day. It's rather hard to miss her. She's white. She scratched me. I shall murder you. That isn't funny at all. How dare you? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. No. My lord, it's as though you swallowed a whale. Am I bleeding? I can see it. I am not hallucinating, you fat. That's what I said. Go. Where are you going? I swear you've just moved. Hello. Not tired at all, and you? Haven't I just spoken to you? Oh, I suppose not. I've to update my journal. Actually, I'm starving. Fetch me food. Well, you could use the exercise. You hit me. Yes, you did. Yes, you did. Yes you did. Yes. You did. Yes you did. Yes you did. Are you cheating? I'm not shouting. No, I'm not. No, I'm not. No I'm not. I am not. No. Yes, I am. You do not. Six days. 144 hours. Then some. I could go on forever. You're going to fall asleep soon. You're tired now. You are. I've forgotten. You've still got a little toothpaste coming out of your nose. Are you crying again? What is the matter? Well, I suppose it was sad. There, there. The goblins got better, I'm certain. I'm not going. I would have to move. I am not going to move. You are the one who is going to move. Well, if you say. What? I apologise. Isn't it odd that Binns is a ghost? Well, he needn't be. I'm hungry. What an enchanting pearl of wisdom. I don't know. Perhaps a pear. This is the greatest Sleep Duel we've ever had. No, we haven't. I cut it off, you moron. Stop. I cut it off. You're an idiot. Don't sit on me. I can't breathe. You're crushing my bones. My bones are being ground into powder. I'm dying. You've killed me. Never sit on me again. We shall die if we don't keep speaking. I'm certain. No, I eat regularly. Then throw the feather at the rock. Do it. It will be destroyed. No, I haven't any swords. What a splendid idea. We shall find swords. I've never fenced, either. Perhaps later, then. We needn't move now. Are you freezing? I'm not tired, you lump. Your hair is all over the place. Well, clean up your cat's hair, then. I want one of Pansy's pastries. Well, we've lost her. Where did you put her? Ha ha ha ha ha h ah aha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. No, she wouldn't fit. Is that My Father? Well, I didn't realise. I wish My Father were here. Hogwarts wouldn't be so stupid. Well, Dumbledore is stupid. No, I've still got to update my journal. Have you anything to eat? I'm not eating that. It has hair. That's your cat. You did, actually. I didn't make any potions. You're the one who's making potions. I enjoy that, actually. I left it in the dormitory. Well, I don't need it. It would just be hanging there. I can't tie it anymore, actually, something seems to be wrong with me. Yours is in a knot. Oh, I am wearing one. Who tied this? What? No. On Tuesdays. Three. How should I know? Nott gave it to me, isn't it odd? He thought I really burnt the body. Well, of course I'm cleverer than him. I told him I burnt the body and the glasses were all that was left. Yes, he called him a zombie. Who is Rock? His name is Crabbe, not Rock. You've never called him that before. You have not. It's cold in here. There's a wolf staring at us. Don't move. If we close our eyes it won't be able to see us. I thought so, too. I don't have a lift. First I have to stop by the infirmary to have my nose fixed. I'm sure it's broken again. After the Quidditch match. That was an hour ago. It was. What are you talking about? That was last month. I shall be nineteen in December. Why was toothpaste coming out of your nose in the first place? I want toast. Blackcurrant. I prefer it. You can have that, then. Stop crying. It's unseemly. Please stop. There, there. You could always eat it off the floor. Yes, it's quite sad, but you'll find another muffin. Have you anything to drink? I am not drinking your ink. How do you know? He did not. I quite like that. Perhaps I shouldn't have laughed. I didn't think it was insensitive. Finnigan. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Of course. No, I said that well before you did. I worked quite hard on that badge, you gigantic frog. It was different when we got married. Eglantine. Yes, yours. Mine did not. I was going to commit child suicide. Odd. Odd are better. Odd are better than even. Yes, they are. Have we had this converstaion? I didn't think so. Perhaps we shall become immortal. When I was fighting manticores in the forests of Transylvania, no one treated me this way. I was a god. I am not lying. There was a helicopter. I nearly ran into it. I was ten. I am not. It happened. I am a better flyer than you, that's why. There's a zombie puffskein behind you. Don't cry. I was joking. Oh, sorry. Well, it was rather witty. Evidently, you find me ugly. I'm not speaking to you.
I've been awake for 96 hours. Victory shall soon be mine. Millicent is looking weak. I am the champion of all Sleep Duels. One day we realised that we could actually spend time in the common room rather than sitting in our respective dormitories doing absolutely nothing, so we have spent the rest of our lives in the common room. We were going to play Quidditch with candles, but we didn't have enough candles, so we decided to make a candle. I can't find my favourite shoes and I don't know how I'm going to function without them.
My eyes hurt quite badly. I shall have to see the nurse.
In fact, my head also hurts, but I can't put it down, so I'll have to carry on.
It's been ninety-six hours now, so this is likely going to go on for the rest of my life. I shall never sleep again. I'm not tired.