31 August 1976
Another year, another journal.
That looks so stupid, I almost want to cross it out. I almost want to throw this book out. This whole thing is stupid. This journal and this coming school year. Why am I going to want to look back on this? I'm not. Nothing's going to happen. I'll go to classes. We'll play pranks on the Slytherins. Once a month I'll go to the Shack.
I'm whinging, but so what? I can't whinge to my mates, so I might as well do it here.
It's not fair.
I did well on my OWLs. Not incredibly well. Not better than James and Sirius (though I did better than Sirius in Astronomy, and better than both of them in HoM). But about as well as I hoped to do. Mum and Dad were happy.
It doesn't matter.
McGonagall told me. It doesn't matter how well I do. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd got all O's. It doesn't matter how many NEWT-level classes I'll be starting this year. No one is going to hire a werewolf, and that's that. McG was nice about it, at least. But she didn't lie.
It's not fair.
I know whinging doesn't help.
So, I doubt I'll have much to write about this year.
Mum and Dad haven't talked about my prospects. I know they think about them, though. It'll be good to get out of the house, even if school will be rather pointless. My mates will keep me distracted, I suppose. I hope.
Letters written: 14 (3 to James, 4 to Peter, 7 to Sirius)
Films seen: 4
Books read: 25 (will be 26 shortly)
Meteors seen during Perseids: 7
Walks taken: about 12 (I think)
Mountains climbed: 1
Lochs swum in: 2
Museums visited: 3
People snogged: 1
People told: 0
Arguments with parents: 1 1/2 (Mum was out shopping)
Hours until Hogwarts Express leaves: 15 1/4
Trunks packed: 0
Number of times running away to America contemplated: 1000000000000000000
Now that I've got everything numbered it feels like I've done very little. Why is that?
Better start packing.