Doubts.
I think something's wrong with Remus. He isn't replying to my Owls at all and I'm getting really worried. I might ask Professor McGonagall to Owl him too, but if he wants to be alone then there's nothing anyone can really do, is there? I'm just worried about him, I guess.
We've got our DADA exam tomorrow and I'm getting nearly as wound up as Ron over the whole ordeal. Hermione's had to repair her satchel together a few times over the past week, the split in the corner that's been taking the strain of her books seems intent on remaining as stubborn as it can, being a bag and everything. I don't suppose bags can wilfully be that stubborn, really. Inanimate objects around here seem to have a life of their own, though. Two words to settle the case: Sir Cadogan.
I bet I'll fail the test tomorrow. Me, Ron and Neville have been revising really hard lately, but compared to how Hermione can reel off whole paragraphs without even blinking, as Ron put it, we're pathetic by comparison. I don't feel confident about tomorrow at all. I just wish I could fly around on the Quidditch Pitch for a few hours, get my head clear.
Perhaps they'll serve toad-in-the-hole at lunch tomorrow. The house elves are really good at making it sludgy and satisfying.