A/N: To be quite frank, I had no intention of getting back into multi-chaptered fics (they are bloody tiresome and I usually lose interest in them pretty quickly) but I was reading Bridget Jones's Diary recently and I couldn't help it: I had to write a fic in that quirky diary style.
This is the personal journal of Lily Evans, Gryffindor, Year 7. Please return to her if found. Thank you!
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September 1
9:00 AM
Status: HaranguedStupid, stupid, stupid.
Argh, bollocks. I can't find my lucky socks anywhere.
I could've sworn I put them in the laundry basket when Mum came around and hollered at me to wash my clothes (again) but she insisted they weren't in the wash and now they're nowhere to be found.
Fuck.
I cannot leave home without these socks. That much is for certain – I will not leave home without these socks. Alice finds me bloody ridiculous, because she maintains you don't need superstition in a world where you can do real magic, but I am a Muggleborn and want to cling to my childhood notions, thank you very much.
Those socks truly are my lucky socks – I have had them since I was twelve and they have yet to fail me – and I can't go to Hogwarts for my seventh year without them.
This isn't good.
I hear Mum yelling at me to finish the bloody packing so we can leave. Her yelling makes George, my owl, flap his wings noisily. He and I are similar that way – neither of us enjoy the attractive sounds of Mum getting annoyed early in the morning. But she's right – we have to go to the station now. Mum won't let me Floo over to Alice and go with her because she insists on taking me herself (i.e. driving) as some sort of unstated mother-and-daughter bonding law. And we have a really long commute time I can't figure out how to reduce.
Sometimes, I really wonder how we ever got on without magic...
TO-DO LIST:
Find toothbrush.
Remember my Charms book this time.
Check laundry again for socks.
Leave Petunia a note to remind her about the casserole I made for Mum, not her glutton boyfriend Vernon.
Remember to feed George before we leave.
Get out of here before Mum murders me.10:30 AM
Status: IdleWe are in the car frantically going to the last highway that separates me from King's Cross Station. George keeps hooting from the back-seat, annoyed that the journey is so bumpy and full of jerky stops (Mum isn't known for her driving skills). It is a miracle I haven't missed my train yet.
Found my lucky socks, by the way – they were on my feet. I had forgotten that, in a fit of responsibility and pride-inspiring self-awareness, I had worn them so I wouldn't waste twenty minutes looking for them in the morning.
Wow. I surprise myself sometimes.
11:05 AM
Status: StabilizingI'm on the train now, thank Merlin. Found Head's compartment with ease, mostly – although I almost hit a couple of first-years trying to haul my trunk up the train steps. I didn't see Alice yet, but I'll join her a bit later. McGonagall says once I'm done meeting the Head Boy and talking with him, I can go back to the regular compartment.
I'm nervous, to be honest. I've wanted to be Head Girl forever, because Mum was a Head Girl at her school and naturally expected me to follow in her footsteps; but at the same time, I'm so bloody forgetful sometimes.
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She Said What?
FanfictionLily Evans keeps a diary in her seventh year to chronicle the strange, murky, embarrassing, and sometimes plain crazy events that a young witch set to graduate has to navigate through. Written in the style of 'Bridget Jones's Diary'. This story is w...