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November 10, 1978

Jun. 10th, 2006 | 10:37 pm

Why must there be a match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff on my birthday? Could there be anything more insipid? Besides Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, that is.

MacDonald, I didn't get you a gift because I wouldn't want you to feel obligated to return the favour, or think that I cared.

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October 7, 1978

May. 7th, 2006 | 09:05 pm

Approximately eight months, including hols, and then back to being beneath my father's thumb again. As much as I am ever under it. There is nothing new or interesting to say about my life, as usual, as there is nothing ever new or interesting about the people who unfortunately surround me or about this dismal castle, and we are all products of our environments, no? I am afraid I may actually do quite well on my exams due to lack of any worthy distractions from my studies.

My birthday is in one month and ten days, therefore gifts would be most easily purchased at the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

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September 1, 1978

Apr. 1st, 2006 | 10:36 pm
mood: depresseddepressed

Apparently my roommates challenged themselves to avoid bathing at all over hols. Winners, all.

This is one of the seven worst days of my life.

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August 5, 1978

Mar. 5th, 2006 | 12:16 am
mood: morosemorose

I have cut out my father's letter from the newspaper, because it is such an exquisite composition. Shall we review it?Collapse )

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July 13, 1978

Feb. 13th, 2006 | 07:51 pm
mood: crushedcrushed

It isn't fair.

My father must have known that my exam results would arrive today because he actually came home. I was hoping to improve upon my O.W.L.s but no redness, no shortness of breath, nothing. Worse than nothing, actually. There might have even been a smile, or at any rate there wasn't a frown. With my results I could almost spell out a cry of frustration: AEAEE!

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July 4, 1978

Feb. 4th, 2006 | 09:13 pm
mood: stircrazy

Is it really better to go home and live with my father than it is to live with Flint?



At least my father spends most of his time at work and has better breath. Granted, the same is true of a goblin.

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June 15, 1978

Jan. 15th, 2006 | 11:03 pm
mood: moodymoody

I do hate the last week before exams. Everyone is at their maddest, which is saying something.

The usual Slug Parties are dull enough that I don't know why anyone expected that inviting more people would improve them. The only thing more unbearable than a room full of smugness and perspiration is one in which my father is present. Of all the men in the room, he and Professor Slughorn are the absolute last two I want to corner me. And mother asked if there was "any nice chap" I'd come with--to the party, that is. Thankfully when my father was out of earshot, but I wish she would just forget all about the sins of the flesh now that she has fulfilled the biological imperative.

I think I need to bathe now. Not that I could ever reach Flint or Black's degree of putrescence, even if I didn't.

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May 18, 1978

Dec. 18th, 2005 | 10:48 pm

Oh sweet Merlin, exams are only a few short weeks away! Let's spread out every roll of parchment we possess all over the common room so Barty doesn't have any place to sit! Let's leave books all over the bloody library so Barty can't find them to finish that essay that's already a day late, because he has nothing better to do than go on searching for them! And if we are Regulus Black, let's leave our dirty clothes reeking of some stupid bint's cheap perfume all over the dormitory!

I can't believe I am wasting seven years of my precious life in this bloody madhouse.


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April 20, 1978

Nov. 20th, 2005 | 09:16 pm
mood: restlessrestless

You may pretend I have just done any or all of the following:
a. insulted the Gryffindor Quidditch team
b. panicked over the impending exams
c. commented on Apparation lessons and the upcoming exam
d. discussed the absolutely fascinating career fair displays
e. expressed disapproval of the fact that Flint and Karkaroff and Black continue to breathe
f. noted that one of the lamps in the bathroom has gone out and the house-elves have still not seen to it, and the lighting in there is dreadful
But, in fact, I can't be bothered to say even that much to you miserable sods.

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March 23, 1978

Oct. 23rd, 2005 | 10:37 pm
mood: annoyedannoyed

Although the Slytherin common room's sofa looks perfectly cosy and lovely to sleep on, I wish to state for the record that it most certainly is not, particularly in comparison to one's own bed. This is especially true when a fourth year has taken the care to be sick not two feet from my shoes. When even I can't muster any enthusiasm for a sport dependent on phallic objects and a lot of balls, then perhaps everyone else needs to reconsider their priorities. My comfort and the state of my clothing really shouldn't be jeopardised by a Quidditch match, of all things.

Besides, if girls were meant to be in boys' dormitories than they wouldn't be called boys' at all. Furthermore, the fact that Black was hosting one of them there only brings to mind the possibility that he might reproduce, and that is not something I want to consider when I am either drunk or hungover. Or at any other time, for that matter.

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