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Entry Forty-Four

Oh, go on then. No one will ever know.

I'M FREE! I'M FREE! HOORAY! I'M FREE!

Ahem.


Congratulations to my fellow NEWT students for making it through this round. OWL students, you've still got NEWTs to go.

Oh, but Lu will be here. And I won't be. Bloody hell.

Entry Forty-Three

My enjoyment of seeing the hard work of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team finally come to fruition has since been marred by the behaviour of certain individuals. While I accept that illness is beyond an individual's control, spreading your germs to those of us who remain unafflicted (and who would like to stay that way) isn't.

When you sneeze, do so into your elbow. Do not sneeze into your hands, as you will certainly inflict others the moment you next touch a door handle. The only thing worse is not attempting to cover your mouth when you sneeze at all. Do not use hankerchiefs repeatedly. Use tissues instead and confiscate them, or perhaps a cleansing charm on the aforementioned hankerchief if you insist on using one.

And finally, if you feel less than your usual irritating selves, then for Helga's sake get yourself to the hospital wing. Do not wait for me to taxi you there via broomstick, or upon collapsing on top a group of unfortunate first years, and having therefore to be carried to Madam Pomfrey by a still more unfortunate group of seventh years. Particularly if you're Cad.

Entry Forty-Two

Most of you are being annoying in one way or another right now. For your convenience, I will outline the culpable parties in point form:

  • Summerby: Yes, you. Stop acting like a sulky little bitch just because Cadwallader wanted to spend time with his friends who aren't acting as though they have the lottery on him and his spare time. He's not as anti-social as me and - Merlin knows why - happens to actually like most of the student body. So it makes sense for him to have more than one friend. A policy you should employ for your girlfriend as well. While you still have one, that is. I repeat: there is only one grumpy and vindicative Hufflepuff bastard, and it is me. And if you feel better qualified for the position, I'll be happy to convince you of otherwise.


  • The Cards: No, Summerby, don't stop reading. I'm not quite finished with you yet. This concerns you and anyone else upset by all the rankings cards of the past few weeks. Firstly, no one is going to put anyone else's boyfriend or girlfriend in the top spot as that would spout accusations of attempted theft, and as we all know Summerby is noted for his flexibility where other blokes and his girlfriend are concerned. If Ernie - I repeat, Ernie Macmillan - of all people was thought to be dipping his hands in the Every-Flavoured Beans box, imagine the caterwauling we would have endured if the biggest flirt in the school (now that Corner's hung up his boots) had ranked Demelza higher. It's his list, not yours, and why the bloody hell do you want every other bloke in the school to be as interested in your girlfriend anyway? Believe me, if more wizards had set their caps at her, you'd be long out of the picture as you're not competition for anyone bar Nott or Malfoy at the moment. And to people suggesting that other such paramours make lists of their own if they're upset by their girlfriend's ranking, well, that's just stupid because all decent boyfriends would just rank whoever they're seeing as number one, so the results are skewered. If such idiotic behaviour has to be conducted at all, leave it to the single ones.

And because I'm on a roll, here's another:

  • Jack Sloper: Easy to rile everyone else, isn't it, when they actually give a Flobberworm's arse about something and you don't? Difficult to retort to someone who doesn't have any ambitions, wit, principles or motivation of their own, isn't it? If Stephen and Harper want to gripe at you because you called Sane Capper a bitch when she hasn't done a thing to you, that's their prerogative. Perhaps what bothers you is that you wouldn't be able to muster the enthusiasm and regard to defend one of your female friends had the same been done to them. Stop using your pathetic laziness and apathy to needle others who are doing better things with their lives and do something useful, for once.

I have more to add, but that's all for today. For most of you at any rate. To Susan Bones's so-called FRIENDS, I went easy on the others. Continue below to read what's in store for you.

Private to Ernie, Cadwallader, Justin, Hannah and WayneCollapse )

Entry Forty-One

To anyone whom it concerns, the Italians have got the Portkey problem monitored enough for us to arrive back at school on Friday afternoon, just after lunch.

To Luna, I'll be talking to you later. Don't worry, we're all perfectly safe.

To certain other people, I'll also be talking to you later. But not in quite the same tone that I'll use for Luna. Unfortunately for you.

Entry Forty

Members of the house Quidditch Team, you'll be pleased to know that I didn't go through with my original plan to hold seven practices per week. Instead we will be extending our existing four practices by half an hour each, plus holding an optional jogging session on the Saturdays there aren't any matches. Miss Moran pointed out the wisdom of having longer practices instead of more numerous ones, and four of us have NEWTs and a sane team is better than an insane team anyhow.

Is that it? That's really it? Wow. Surprisingly that's all I have to say.

Hang on. What's this?

Entry Thirty-Nine

Numbers. That is the theme of this entry. This is my thirty-ninth of them.

The Hufflepuff Quidditch team currently has four practices per week. Two or three members of said Quidditch team have indirectly complained about the lack of training this Hufflepuff Quidditch team has. There has been a lack of discussion of tactics utilised by the Slytherins during the recent game due to one member of said team losing the notes he was entrusted to take.

There is one captain of this Quidditch team. And I am he. And because I try to be a good captain, I listen to feedback, whether or not the speaker has the courtesy to direct it to me, and I have decided to amend this. Therefore the weekly Quidditch practices will be increased from four to seven. Which means one for every day of the week. Cadwallader, surely you can remember this.

If we can't book the pitch everyday, we will go for a run or play Muggle netball instead. And Wayne, you and Kevin will start weight training. By piggybacking the smallest member of our team - Hannah Abbott - during said runs.

Entry Thirty-Eight

It seems the only thing more annoying than gossip is the moral high-handedness that invariably accompanies it.

"The students are gossiping?" Merlin, gossip in a school filled with eleven to eighteen year olds? How unheard of. The mind boggles. About why you think this is worthy of comment, actually. "There's something very odd going on at the moment." Is it odd to gossip? Silly me, I should clean my ears out. After almost seven years in Hogwarts, here I was thinking that gossip was a normal, regular occurrence. "The atmosphere is very strange." Er, no. It would be stranger still if the halls were completely absent of gossip. Then we'd know for certain that You-Know-Who had really got to us.

Yes, gossip is one of the lowiest forms of discourse. Yes, it would be better if people didn't do it. And yes, the participants could find better ways of exercising their brains except not in the case of Patil as her head would most likely implode if she tried anything more strenuous. But what annoys me about the naysayers is that (1) they more than likely would have done the same thing themselves at some point, and are therefore big fat hypocrites and (2) they seem to not realise that in mentioning it, they are bringing attention to its existence and are therefore pouring oil on the fire. I had managed to bypass the gossip until I saw the recent entries sermonising on how awful it is, which seem to exist in greater numeracy than those containing the actual gossip itself, and now it's become a Pandora's Box in which I can't get the notion out of my head. Thank you for that. No, really.

In a nutshell, what I don't understand is why a group of students are being held up like pariahs when what they are doing is no different to what the vast majority of people have been doing since the beginning of time. "The only thing that travels faster than disease is gossip?" Do you think that quote was invented exclusively for them, or perhaps it exists because it is a widespread human phenomenon?

If the protestors are irked because they personally know the subjects and have proof that the rumours are false, perhaps it would be more productive to explain why and how they are false rather than make vague references on their journals about it and how everyone involved should be slammed in a cell with all the other Death Eaters. In case some perspective needs to be lended, Death Eaters, witches and wizards, are the real criminals. Perhaps a few of you need to be reminded. "There certainly must be other to exercise one's mind." There are also other things to protest about. If you truly want to use your journals as some sort of Sonorous Charm to improve the state of the world, then talk about famine, Muggle Baiting, disease and the like. Gossip doesn't really stack up against any of those.

And MacDougal, if you want to challenge me about what I wrote in my article, perhaps you should stick to what I actually said, or track down the person who did say that your house had a boring team instead. That you concluded my comment about how Ravenclaw is "a thinking supporter's team" was a slight on the stereotype of Ravenclaws being bookish sorts who virtually live in the library says more about your own paranoia than the actual content of my article. Plus as a Hufflepuff, if we're to fall back on type-casting here, I am a hard worker and therefore would study harder than anyone else. Which makes my supposed slight utterly nonsensical. That comment on you being a thinking supporter's team also alludes to how Higgs' views couldn't possibly be my own as such teams tend to be interesting to watch. I'd suggest that you should use that vaunted Ravenclaw logic next time, but I'd hate to be accused of being judgemental.

Entry Thirty-Seven

No, I am not "going commando" simply because all my smallclothes are now pink. Yes, I am wearing a shirt of that colour. I was considering not wearing one but changed my mind when I saw Crabbe's entry. I like to think I'm above that.

Having said that, pardon my Troll but what the fuck is going on?

Also, after consideration I have decided to show my disapproval of the enforcement of our dresscode despite this catastrophe by wearing a tie from another house. If anyone would like to do an exchange, I am prepared to loan them mine until this botch-up gets resolved.

Entry Thirty-Six

The Ravenclaw-Slytherin game is said to be held a couple of weekends from now. I'm torn. I can't stand Malfoy and think that he's an appalling captain, but if Ravenclaw won, they'd stand to be better challengers for the Quidditch Cup, and it goes without saying that it's not a good scenario for us. Alas, it's not possible for both teams to lose.

Nott, I trust you received the owl containing my article.

To my own team, I was wondering if you were free to spend some time at the Three Broomsticks together next Saturday, to - not discuss tactics for once - but to be more sociable together. No, I was not put up to this and, no Cadwallader, this is not relating to how I was apparently dropped on my head as a sprog.

Private to SusanCollapse )

Entry Thirty-Five

Private to SelfCollapse )

Hufflepuff Quidditch team, remember that we have practice tomorrow afternoon before dinner. No excuses. I don't care if your emotionally manipulative Slytherin bastard of a boyfriend is more important to you than a wronged housemate you've been living with for almost seven years, you're still coming. And no, no matter what Cadwallader says about how I should try and be the bigger person and offer an olive branch, I'm not going to. It's impossible for me to offer a sincere apology for something that wasn't even my fault. And to whoever the hell has used up all the pink foam in the prefects' bathroom, own up.