Harry Potter, as written by Samuel Pepys

by Technomad

(from the Dairies of Harry Potter)

March 6, 1991

Up betimes, and to breakfast, sitting as usual with my two boon companions, Mr. Ronald Weasley, and Miss Hermione Granger. The breakfast its usual lavish self, as is customary at this school. A greater contrast to my situation at home, I cannot imagine. There, had I not learned to sneak bites from the food I was expected to prepare for my unlov'd relatives, I might verily have starved, or at least fallen ill. 'Tis no wonder I prefer school to home.

Then, back to the dorm, to pick up the books and tools for the first class of the day, Herbology, with Professor Sprout. We did repair to Greenhouse Two, where we did learn of the properties and uses of divers plants, both magical and non-magical. While I am adequate at this, 'tis not my favorite subject, unlike my House-mate, Neville Longbottom. While at most of our studies he struggles, in Herbology he is a shining star, and clearly one of Prof. Sprout's favorites, for all that she is the Head of a different House to ours, Hufflepuff. This doth contrast with divers other Professors at this school, I do confess.

After Herbology, we did repair yet again unto the dormitory, to drop off our Herbology books and tools, and gather the things needed for our next class, History of Magic. Professor Binns, the one who doth teach this subject, is a ghost, and he would weary nigh anyone unto death himself, so boring is he. On and on he droneth, always and ever on the subject of Goblin-rebellions, and he cannot even keep the names of his pupils straight. Were it not for Miss Granger's diligent note-taking, I fear me that most of our House-mates would be in danger of failing out of that subject. 'Tis most fortunate that so far as I am able to ascertain, no job nor career in the Magickal World doth depend on a close knowledge of its history.

At lunch, we did discuss the Quidditch match impending, between Hufflepuff House and our own traditional arch-rival, Slytherin. The opinion ran that while Hufflepuff plays a good, solid game, the Slytherins are tricksters, and will do what it takes to gain the victory, be it ne'er so underhanded. Miss Granger took no part in the discussion, since she considers Quidditch to be boring and childish (and why should we not be childish? Are we not, after all, children?) and spent the meal with her nose in a thick tome abstracted from the Hogwarts Library. By the grace of Merlin, she did avoid spilling anything on it, or damaging it. Had she done so, the wrath of Madame Pince, our librarian, would have descended on her head, and not even the good offices of our esteemed Head of House, Professor McGonagall, would have saved her.

After lunch, we did repair unto the dungeons, for Double Potions, a class I do detest. Professor Snape, the one who teaches this subject, hath a grudge against me on account of my father, with whom he was much at odds while they were schoolfellows, and since I do strongly resemble my father (whom Merlin assoil; I have no memory of the man myself, him having died when I was but a year and a half old) he delights in finding ways to torment me. Moreover, he extends his ill-will to my Housemates, since he is the head of Slytherin House, our arch-rivals, and was a member of Slytherin himself when he did study here.

So Potions class is not an experience I enjoy, nor do my House-mates. Even Miss Granger, who doth exceeding well in all her studies (nearly, but not quite, surpassing Neville Longbottom in Herbology!) struggles there, while Professor Snape openly favours his House. After class, there were words between our Miss Granger and one Miss Pansy Parkinson, a most unpleasant little jade from Slytherin. Had they not been restrained, it might've come down to wands-out-and-at'em. Miss Parkinson hath taken great pains to inform Miss Granger that as a "Muggle-Borne," she will ne'er be a social or magickal equal, but tolerated at best, provided she doth marry well. Miss Granger, for her part, considers Miss Parkinson to be a tiresome little slut at best, whose sole chance of success in life lieth in finding some wizard of wealth and no taste who is mad enough, or desperate enough, to marry her.

Miss Parkinson was backed in her behaviour by one Draco Malfoy, who hath been a stone in my shoe since the day I arrived here. Mr. Malfoy is the son of one of Britain's wealthiest wizards, and doth flaunt his family's good fortune in the faces of all. Despite this, rumours do abound that during the last great troubles, Mr. Malfoy, Senior, was not enchanted, as he doth loudly and publicly maintain, but was with the forces of Ld. Voldemort of his own free will.

Had I not grown up alongside my oafish cousin Dudley, Draco Malfoy would be more than I could easily bear. As 'tis, though, he is but a yapping dog, the which I bat from my path with my walking stick, should it be imprudent enough to dispute my right of passage.

To dinner, where Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and I did discuss the odd things that do seem to occur regularly here: the existence of a three-headed dog on an upstairs corridor, the which striketh us as perilous to keep in a school full of curious children; the appearance of a troll in the dungeons of this castle, heralded by Professor Quirrel, who, despite being renown'd as an expert on these creatures, did faint at the news, and the significance of one Nicholas Flamel, alchemist and creator of the Philosopher's Stone. We would like to penetrate to the bottom of these mysteries, but have no time for such pursuits at present, what with examination-time coming on betimes.

One source of much information hath been Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds. He is easily the largest person I have ever beheld with mine own eyes, standing a full seven feet tall and broad in proportion. I have wondered how he came to be, but know not how to inquire, and have neglected to ask Miss Granger to look into the question. It may be that wizards do vary greatly in size; our esteem'd Professor of Charms, Professor Flitwick, is a very dwarf in size, standing little over three feet tall. This doth not estop him from teaching his subject well, nor from his Headship of Ravenclaw House, the home of those whose intellect burneth bright.

After dinner, we did repair to our Common-room, where Mr. Weasley did take on all-comers at chess, defeating them one and all. Miss Granger did comment that if he shewed as much aptitude for his books as he doth for chess, she would verily have a rival. Since Mr. Weasley doth put less import on his studies than she, he ignored her. Methinks that she fears being sent homeward in disgrace, should she fail her examinations, which driveth her to study day and night. Mr. Weasley, being of pure wizarding breeding, hath no such fears, and thus, doth study the less. I fear me he may well fail of his examinations, but 'tis nothing I can do anent it, save to hope. Tho' I myself could stand to study more, so much is happening that I find myself ever distracted.

And so to bed, being distracted for some while by Mr. Weasley's searching after his pet rat, Scabbers. Keeping such a creature doth strike me as an unwholesome habit, but Mr. Weasley being much attached to his beast, I say nothing. Afterwards, nothing to keep me awake but the snoring of my room-mates, the which soundeth like a herd of elephants being garrotted.