Harry's Diary Entries

15/VI/96

I HATE THE DURSLEYS!!!

16/VI/96

Hid a sock in Dudley's pasta. He ate it. Am grounded. Dudley sick.

17/VI/96

*many many doodles*

Hey, that last one looks almost like a samurai warrior. I wonder if it's normal for an almost 16 year old boy to dream about being a samurai warrior. As Ron would say, yes, but if you dream about being a drag queen then no. Of course, this was two years ago, and I remember seeing Malfoy in really tight trousers and I remember thinking...

Hold it. No, not...ahh...I hate words. They can always have a nasty meaning if you have a nasty mind. Cue the Hermione lecture. Wow, I've been in captivity long enough. I'm starting to feel like Hedwig. I think I'll sing some show tunes until Vernon yells for me to shut up.

19/VI/96

Am so tired of being in same room for days.

20/VI/96

I hate everyone.

21/VI/96

Everyone and everything.

22/VI/96

Everything and everyone is stupid and no one ever understands me!

23/VI/96

Mooned a passerby this morning.

24/VI/96

Butt sore because Vernon whacked it with an American camcorders. Evidently the person outside who saw my naked backside called the police and thought it was Dudley. My ass is not FAT!

25/VI/96

Still angry about yesterday.

27/VI/96

Why the hell am I still in my room? That sock thing was over a week ago!!

28/VI/96

Looks like I'll be spending my birthday in here as well. How happy.

29/VI/96

30 hours to go until I can officially hate the world.

30/VI/96

I wish I could go outside.

31/VI/96

Make a wish, Harry. Owls been pecking at window all day but I can't open it. I think I've lost all the muscle mass in my arms for being cooped up in here for so long. What a nice way to start the new school year, like a scrawny 16 year old chicken.

I hate everything.

1/XI/96

Took train to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione are boring this year. They just snog snog snog in front of me and, truthfully, I'm getting sick of watching the two couples.
So I went to a new compartment where this hot transfer student was. She was really hot. Really really. I think her name was Isabelle Desiree. Very hot. Also very stupid. Or ditzy. Or something. It was very refreshing after Hermione's "therefore's" and "whereas's". I don't think Isabelle even knows how to do school work. She probably just sleeps with her professors and they give her A's.

I could see her doing that.

Anyway, she was going on and Malfoy. She kept defending him in front of lesser first years. I thought she said she was related to him but when he actually came into the compartment (yes, he actually came into the compartment), she acted like she wanted to impress him. Like she had to with those looks....of hers.

#8

This was the last straw, thought Harry. He grabbed his jacket which was lying on Seamus's school chest and stormed out of his dormitory, leaving the two Slytherins to their own devices.

Unperturbed, Draco grinned at Isabelle. "Do you know if Harry keeps a diary?"

Isabelle giggled herself off the bed as Draco laid down across Harry's bed and disrespectfully searched under his friend's bed for a small book. Sitting up without difficulty, he held up a small purple book with an off white ribbon string hanging out of the binding.

Then he read aloud a random entry.

"12/IX/96
Today was quite interesting, diary. It wasn't extra-ordinary at all. No one made an attempt on my life and nothing melodramatic happened. Well, I walked in on Seamus picking a piece of dust out of Ron's eye but that happens all the time. Ron has assured me that he is just prone to dust-related-accidents. I would sigh but you can't really put the sound of sighing into a book, can you diary? Today was so boring. Maybe I need to get more exciting friends. Like an American. Or a Japan. No, a Japanese. Wait, what do you call those short little people anyway? Oh well, it's not like my life isn't interesting. I mean, I am HARRY POTTER. I mean, how famouser could you be? I suppose you could be Hitler or something--that's what Hermione said....I think. I was a little distracted by her hot pink mini skirt. When she bent over..."

Draco strained his eyes but could not make out the smudges of Harry's chicken scratch. His eyes glittered as he finished the page.

"..but anyway...yeah, my life is boring except for what goes on inside my mind. But after all, I am HARRY POTTER and who else has escaped Voldemort like, five times and had so many girls after them? I ask you, diary, who? Well, Draco Malfoy has quite a following but his poncy outfit of a matador jacket and these tacky trousers disappointed at least one of his admirers today."

With a crestfallen expression, Draco looked up from the book. "He doesn't like those trousers?"
He ignored Isabelle's comment--"I haven't seen you wearing them. "--and continued; "And I thought I looked hot. "

Isabelle had a better answer for this. "No. Hot would be if you were wearing nothing but whipped cream...you get what I'm saying. " She made a vague gesture towards Draco who looked rather disgusted. "That's nasty, Izzy."

"What!? I missed lunch."

"I'm not helping you there. I have some dignity, believe it or not," Draco informed her, looking intently back at the diary. What an invasion of privacy. How would Harry would react if he knew what was going on? Badly of course.

Isabelle pouted her lips and thrust out her chest, reminding Draco for a second of an uppity American pop star.

"No cherry on top?"

#7

Harry sat there feeling neglected while Draco decided to throw potion bottles at Isabelle.

"EWW! EWWW! ICKY! AH! AH! DRACOOOO!" shrieked Isabelle as the random ingredients broke on her. She screamed, "Professor!" as she hit Draco, knocking him off his stool. Then she smiled.

"The deed is done."

"You'd think," Draco returned smoothly as he pushed Isabelle's cauldron over casually."

Isabelle screamed for the Potions professor until Harry informed her that Snape had left for the holidays. She then hit her head on the table repetitively while ranting, "I...AM...GOING...TO...KILL...YOU...DRACO!!!!"

Harry was probably drunk again as he announced with no care whatsoever to the action around him, "Draco's the professor now, yay!"

Draco was happy. "You must all listen to me! I am the supreme ruler!"

Isabelle threw her cauldron at Draco's head--he ducked and she reparoed it and then accioed it back to him. It missed again.

"Too bad it didn't hit you, Draco. It would have been nice."

"Nice for who?"

"Me of course....you bubble headed slut..."

She continued on that vein for some time. Draco sad back in his stool and propped his feet up on the table, listening and nodding his head in agreement to the insults.

"...badly dyed blonde hair and ugly grins...what a pig...so gay....needs a haircut."

Draco yelled. "Gah! My hair is most certainly not dyed!" and after a moment added, "And those last two are not flaws!"

Isabelle pours a mysteriously unknown liquid--non-toxic, never fear--on Draco's head. "How about now?"

Draco became hysterical. "I am ruined! My beautiful hair is RUINED!"

His attacker laughed, "When was it not?"

Draco scorgified his head and folded his arms grumpily. "You get a zero!"

Isabelle sent a scorgify spell to clean out Draco's mouth. "Bad Draco."

"For the rest of the week!!"

Isabelle had a better idea. "How about we make out instead?"

Draco had a condition however. "Not with soap."

"Of course not."

"Well you were implying it."

"Was not!"

"You cleaned out my mouth!"

"You! You gave me a zero! I am at least offering you a kiss!"

"Point?"

Isabelle threw a quill at Draco, "Fine! No kiss!"

"Fine! You hate me!" Draco melodramatically pretended to die as Isabelle threw more quills and parchment at him. She shrieked, "You're right! I DO!"

Draco objected, "You're not supposed to agree."

"Too late. I already did."

"More zero's for you!" Draco yelled as he rained nothing down on Isabelle from his outstretched hands. Harry found the scene rather trying and ignored his friends until until he looked back to see Isabelle sitting on Draco......again.

Draco bellowed, "Get off of me!"

"Ha! You always say that!" retorted his captor.

"I know. And I always mean it."

"No you don't."

"What else would I mean?"

"Sit on you forever?" Isabelle suggested. Draco's lip curled without menace. "Oh, that's likely."

"Sounds good to me," she concluded. And added with some thought and a bounce, "You're comfy."

"Mfth," Draco squeaked.

#6

Draco could not resist the allure of Christmas and a chance to make stuff fashionable tacky. He reached towards the tree, "Must.....decorate....tree!"

Remembering another important factor of the holiday, Isabelle reminded Draco of the stockings needed to hang by the chimney with care.

"Don't forget SOCKS!"

Perhaps Draco was drunk--either on alcohol or just himself, it was hard to tell--for he opened his arms wide and yelped, "Big socks!"

Harry then contributed his idea; "Well go get them from Hagrid!"

Draco grinned and threw back his head and yelled to the sky, "Accio big smelling socks!"

The socks came as they were called and ended up on Isabelle's head, who promptly shrieked and demanded that they "get off me" but did not attempt to do it herself.

Harry, who just had to find something to be melodramatic about all the time, stopped the action with the modernized "halt". He shouted, "Hold it!"

He sniffed the socks, ignoring the foul odor and declared, "I smell Dark Magic."

Draco raised an eyebrow skeptically as Harry pointed and muttered, "Evil socks."

Harry poked them once and jumped back. He poked them again and jumped back again. Draco watched him repeat the steps until he was reminded of a dance. A stupid dance at that.

"Well...they're not alive."

Still on her head, Isabelle scoffed.

"Of course they're not alive Harry, or they would have obeyed my command."

Harry ignored her, "But I smell evil in their very stitches!"

Isabelle stomped her foot and screamed, throwing the socks off her head.

Draco, who was laughing on the ground, noticed a very interesting phenomenon. "Hey, these can't be Hagrid's, because they're monogrammed."

He held them up. There was a red, a green, and a silver sock. The red read Slut, the green read Spoiled Slut, and the silver read Poncy Bastard Slut. Harry took the words very seriously as he formulated his theory.

Isabelle fell on the floor laughing when she read the silver sock. "That's yours, Draco!" she shouted quite hysterically.

Harry's theory was complete.

"Those aren't Hagrid's socks! Those are Voldemort's socks!" Without giving his friends time to comment, he continued breathlessly. "The red one is Wormtail's and the silver one is Lucius's!"

Draco and Izzy sat on the floor staring at Harry. Draco was first to speak. "And the Dark Lord's is the 'Spoiled Slut'?" He concluded that Harry was entirely bonkers.

Izzy wondered out loud, "So the Dark Lord and his followers are just like whores following......" now she was at a loss, "an ugly pale guy who looks like a cockroach? Ick."

Harry was confused. "What, you're not worried about evil socks?"

I don't find this one quite as funny. Leave a comment.