PRIVATE: *sigh* to diary... less than perfect handwriting, which she only sighs more at
Anastasia,
Perhaps I should rename you Hermione. That would be a little odd, wouldn't it. It woudl be confusing to say the least. I feel as if when I write to you I am really writing to myself. Writing always clears my head. Almost always.
I can only write a little because of...
HOMEWORK!
That makes me overwhelmingly happy and overwhelmingly stressed at the same time. I have, of course, already planned out how I will do all the homework that I like: Arithmancy, History, DADA, Transfiguration, Charms. What I am tired of and don't like thinking about is Care of Magical Creatures. REALLY, it's as if I'm teaching the class. Hagrid and I have weekly talks about what he has plans. Not conferences, really, more like he says what he's planning to do and I try and convince him to tone it down. Our essay is sort of a joke though I'd NEVER tell him or anyone, but I know that he won't corrent it, or anyof them. He'll just be happy they're done. Pity; mine is interesting.
I finally turned my essay into Professor McGonagal. She gave us an extension on our papers because so many people hadn't thought of what their animagus would be. If I were an animagus I believe I would be an owl. As Neville put it, "You're smart and you know just where to go to get things. You strong and you want to protect your family and friends." I think he's dead on. How sweet.
I will write more later, I SWEAR. I always feel so guilty if I don't write regularly! What if this diary ends up an autobiography-in-progress? What if when I'm dead someone finds my memoirs and decides that I'm terribly interesting and wants to publish a book of it? What will they do with the weeks where I have written nothing?
Think of the people, Hermione, think of the readers.
I have been having strange dreams involving Ron and Quiddich. I keep falling off my broom (yes, I am Harry in these dreams) and he saves me. Needless to say I have had to change my sheets nearly every evening from the sweat. I need to buy a new collection of Yeats because I fell asleep reading mine and even scouragify didn't work on the sweat soalked into the pages.
That was a disgusting. Deep are my regrets for leaving you with that thought.
Hermione
Perhaps I should rename you Hermione. That would be a little odd, wouldn't it. It woudl be confusing to say the least. I feel as if when I write to you I am really writing to myself. Writing always clears my head. Almost always.
I can only write a little because of...
HOMEWORK!
That makes me overwhelmingly happy and overwhelmingly stressed at the same time. I have, of course, already planned out how I will do all the homework that I like: Arithmancy, History, DADA, Transfiguration, Charms. What I am tired of and don't like thinking about is Care of Magical Creatures. REALLY, it's as if I'm teaching the class. Hagrid and I have weekly talks about what he has plans. Not conferences, really, more like he says what he's planning to do and I try and convince him to tone it down. Our essay is sort of a joke though I'd NEVER tell him or anyone, but I know that he won't corrent it, or anyof them. He'll just be happy they're done. Pity; mine is interesting.
I finally turned my essay into Professor McGonagal. She gave us an extension on our papers because so many people hadn't thought of what their animagus would be. If I were an animagus I believe I would be an owl. As Neville put it, "You're smart and you know just where to go to get things. You strong and you want to protect your family and friends." I think he's dead on. How sweet.
I will write more later, I SWEAR. I always feel so guilty if I don't write regularly! What if this diary ends up an autobiography-in-progress? What if when I'm dead someone finds my memoirs and decides that I'm terribly interesting and wants to publish a book of it? What will they do with the weeks where I have written nothing?
Think of the people, Hermione, think of the readers.
I have been having strange dreams involving Ron and Quiddich. I keep falling off my broom (yes, I am Harry in these dreams) and he saves me. Needless to say I have had to change my sheets nearly every evening from the sweat. I need to buy a new collection of Yeats because I fell asleep reading mine and even scouragify didn't work on the sweat soalked into the pages.
That was a disgusting. Deep are my regrets for leaving you with that thought.
Hermione