Huh ( Read more... )

DAPHNE GREENGRASS.

I want my 16 Sickles back. Your spell turned my cat WHITE.

Last night I was blinded by the horror that is Crabbe with his pants down. My sympathies to whoever the poor lummox ends up marrying.

Two down, 38 68 to go. Not bad for only five months into the school year.

Slytherins are not scared of flashy gold things flying out of wands.

That is all.

Crabbe gave me back my lap top. It is covered in greasy finger prints. No wonder Daphne wouldn't lend him hers. Stupid git, I bet she did that on purpose.

Huh.
Slytherin won the Quidditch match.

Crabbe, Goyle, I still say you could have wacked that Davies wimp a little harder. Oh well, there's always next time.

Acording to my calculations, there seem to be more red-heads on this journalling contraptions then there are attending this school.

Huh.

You don't see Marcus Flint with a journal do you?

I didn't think so.

Stupid bloody school.

All people do around here is study and complain. And walk around in their underware?

Huh. Boring.

Professor Snape left us presents in the Common Room. Bad timing. Christmas was when? Weeks ago? Something tells me he is not a fan of the holiday.

Needed that scarf, though. My cat ate my other one.