In Love With Her Scribbled Book
Posts: 82
(11/1/04 6:37 pm) Reply
The Extremely Private Diary of Gwendolyn JamesAfter a few seconds of sobbing into her pillow, Gwen dried her eyes and stuck a hand out of the curtain, feeling around on the bedside table until her fingers closed on her diary. Grabbing a quill and violently inking it, she began to write.
--Hufflepuff Common Room thread
It was a brand-new diary, given to her only the day before. It was from her father, a going-away present, and he'd shoved it into her hands just moments before she climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express. Winking, he'd told her it'd help her sort out her thoughts. After holding her fingers poised above the clean paper for a moment, she began to write.
Dear Diary,
I don't know what's going on this year, but everything is different. First of all, Aiden came back to school looking like a different person (literally). And now all of the girls in school are fatally in love with him. Whenever they come up I get jostled aside and fade into the background, the plain girl whose name no one knows (or cares about) anyway. And Aiden's weird, too. He was angry at something this morning, and then we went down to breakfast and it seemed all right...until he completely blew up at me down in the Common Room a few seconds ago. I don't know what is going on.
Yours,
Gwendolyn
With a sigh, feeling slightly calmer, Gwen closed the book - almost. A block of silvery writing had appeared underneath her entry. Gaping (Did Dad know about THIS?), she read it.
Dear Gwen,
You can call me Liz. I know all about you (smile). And Aiden. I'm here when you need me.
You do? Really?
Yes. Really. It sounds like you're both going through a hard time. That's what I'm here
Gwen peeked out of the curtain, shocked at the time.
Sorry, Liz, (she wrote) - class is starting in three minutes. I have to run. Later.
Love, Gwen
She shut the diary with a snap, placed it in her school bag, and ran out of the dormitory, down the stairs, and all the way to the lower dun
Edited by: YouKnowEmma at: 11/1/04 6:45 pm
In Love With Her Scribbled Book
Posts: 116
(19/1/04 7:17 am) Reply
Re: The Extremely Private Diary of Gwendolyn James
Dear Liz,
Aiden's still mad at me. I'm certainly not going to apologize, either, it was entirely his fault! It's the second class of the day, though, and the day is turning out to be VERY long.
Gwen -
Cheer up, it can't last that long.
I thought you were supposed to be helpful.
I am. I help you sort out your thoughts. I can't do anything about AIDEN'S. How do YOU feel about it?
I don't know, Liz, that's the problem. (Gwen sighed.) I'm angry still, but mostly I suppose I'm confused. I don't understand anyone anymore. Especially not my best friend, which is disconcerting on top of being frustrating.
The two of you really need to talk.
I'm perfectly willing to talk to him if he'll kindly explain to me what is going on, why he blew up this morning because Potter was being obnoxious - which he always is - and oh, why he's suddenly started ignoring me for girls like Chelsea Tompkins who I know he can't like!
It sounds like he's in love with you.
That is completely out of the question. We're best friends. We "went out" in my third year and then realized how STUPID it was, and so we promised to be friends and not make that mistake again. We've always laughed about that and talked about how glad we are. Besides, I don't like him in that way.
Well, where are you, anyhow?
History of Magic.
Then talk to him at lunch. Or, if you won't do that, at least put yourself in a position where he'll come to you. You do deserve an explanation.
No. I mean, yes, I do! But I'm not going to apologize to him! I didn't do anything! Talk to YOU later.
With an audible huff of frustration, Gwendolyn slammed the diary shut. Professor Binns looked up confusedly, but by then Gwen already had the textbook he was quoting up and was studiously following along...or would have been, if the book had been right-side up.
Proud Resident
of St. Mungo's
Posts: 367
(19/2/04 9:01 pm) Reply
September 4thDear Liz,
A lot has happened since last I wrote. Aiden made up...although I still don't understand what happened yesterday morning, and it's still kind of disturbing, I won't press the issue.
Classes have started again, which presents its own set of problems. I try hard, Liz, honestly - even if the teachers don't all believe me - but it just turns my head in circles and ties my brain in knots. Especially Transfiguration. I can hardly concentrate with Professor McGonagall breathing down my neck, I always end up fumbling my spell.
I'm afraid I don't have much advice for you. Never having experienced such very-human things as homework loads or stern teachers, I would be a poor advisor.
Although I'm sure that you make up for it in other ways.
That's a nice thing to say, really it is. Now I really have to go. Later -
Proud Resident
of St. Mungo's
Posts: 436
(26/3/04 9:46 pm) Reply
ThursdayDear Liz,
If classes don't kill me, mum might. I'll never be ready for my N.E.W.T.s, I'm sure of it. And mum's always had the misconception that my grades should be better than they are. I try, Liz, really I do...why won't anyone understand that?
Relax. How bad could it possibly be?
Bad.
I see. If you like, I could try and nip into some of the other diaries around here - if it's your average magical diary, I can get in - and find test answers. Would that help?
NO! No, no, don't do that. I don't want it that badly.
Sorry. I must confess I am always confused by the human moral system. If there's anything I can do to help, though--
I know. Thanks. Mostly, I just need you to listen.
I'm good at that. Made for it, you know. I can even give helpful advice in two hundred subjects - unfortunately, homework isn't one of them. The next model after me was equipped for homework questions, but I'm just not that prestigious.
I understand. You do a good job anyway, for a diary.
Thank you. And I must say, you seem like one of the nicer humans I've come across. The one who worked my binding, for instance, was especially distasteful. He dripped some kind of purple liquor all over my first spine - had to do it all over again - and constantly sang the bawdiest songs. Unfortunately, being a diary, my memory is flawless. So things like that tend to haunt me in my quieter moments.
Listen, Liz, this has cheered me up. I might as well go tackle Transfig homework. Later -
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