Wednesday
I cannot make my mind up about the subject of divination.
I recall Professor McGonogall in my third year telling us that it was "one of the most imprecise branches of magic". If she had not stopped herself three years ago, I feel sure she would have gone on to tell us that Professor Trelawney was a fake, a fraud.
But now I am not so sure. Do not get me wrong; I do not believe in reading tea leaves, gazing into crystal balls or casting stones, but what about true prophecies? The events of last year have called my beliefs in respect to these into question. I do not think I can deny the existance of such a thing any longer.
And hence I find myself paying a grudging respect to the only teacher whose class I have ever stormed from.
On another note, I have finally got on top of all my work; it took a few sleepless nights but what does that matter? Grades are more important.
Ron has finally returned; I was allowed time off Arithmancy to meet him and talk to him when he first arrived. I had missed him so much and was overcome by a flood of tears. I was just indescribably relieved. And then I felt guilty; the last thing I said to him before he fell unconscious was how I was not concerned for him. When he was at St. Mungo's, so ill, all I could think about was that he was going to die, thinking I did not care. Many a time I had to vacate his hospital ward and rush to the ladies' to weep.
But it does not do well to dwell on the past. I should be remembered and learned from but not dwelt upon.
And so, I am resigned to not cry another tear; Ron has returned and I am so happy that he is safe and well, I find myself smiling for no apparent reason. My lessons seem to drag more slowly then they ever have as I count down the minutes until I see Ron again. I miss him every second I am not with him. But that does not mean that I find myself unable to concentrate in lessons. Far from it infact; the subjects seem more interesting, my day seems brighter, my prospects seem higher.
Unfortunatley though, my sleepless nights have not disappeared. I lie awake at night and think, and worry. Sometimes I get up; just to check.
I recall Professor McGonogall in my third year telling us that it was "one of the most imprecise branches of magic". If she had not stopped herself three years ago, I feel sure she would have gone on to tell us that Professor Trelawney was a fake, a fraud.
But now I am not so sure. Do not get me wrong; I do not believe in reading tea leaves, gazing into crystal balls or casting stones, but what about true prophecies? The events of last year have called my beliefs in respect to these into question. I do not think I can deny the existance of such a thing any longer.
And hence I find myself paying a grudging respect to the only teacher whose class I have ever stormed from.
On another note, I have finally got on top of all my work; it took a few sleepless nights but what does that matter? Grades are more important.
Ron has finally returned; I was allowed time off Arithmancy to meet him and talk to him when he first arrived. I had missed him so much and was overcome by a flood of tears. I was just indescribably relieved. And then I felt guilty; the last thing I said to him before he fell unconscious was how I was not concerned for him. When he was at St. Mungo's, so ill, all I could think about was that he was going to die, thinking I did not care. Many a time I had to vacate his hospital ward and rush to the ladies' to weep.
But it does not do well to dwell on the past. I should be remembered and learned from but not dwelt upon.
And so, I am resigned to not cry another tear; Ron has returned and I am so happy that he is safe and well, I find myself smiling for no apparent reason. My lessons seem to drag more slowly then they ever have as I count down the minutes until I see Ron again. I miss him every second I am not with him. But that does not mean that I find myself unable to concentrate in lessons. Far from it infact; the subjects seem more interesting, my day seems brighter, my prospects seem higher.
Unfortunatley though, my sleepless nights have not disappeared. I lie awake at night and think, and worry. Sometimes I get up; just to check.