beauty in the breakdown

Do you believe in ghosts?

Ghosts? Of course I believe in ghosts. I happen to know quite a few.

At Hogwarts, each of the student houses have their own ghost. Ravenclaw has the Grey Lady. Hufflepuff has the Fat Friar. Slytherin has the Bloody Baron. And they’re all very nice – well, except for the Baron, as he can be a little testy. But for Gryffindor? Our ghost is Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, but he usually goes by Nearly-Headless Nick. He's a rather nice ghost; he's very helpful to the first years, and he often visits us in the great hall. He’s my favorite by default, of course.

Now, there's also Peeves. Most of the ghosts in the school do not consider Peeves to be a ghost, but rather a poltergeist since he thrives on creating trouble and chaos throughout the castle. He's quite cruel sometimes. And, he never listens! In fact, Fred and George are the only ones Peeves has ever taken a command from. And, he did stay true to his word and gave Umbridge hell.

The girl's lavatory on the second floor is haunted by Moaning Myrtle. She's rather mopey and cries when no one comes to visit her. However, she prefers boys to visit her, and that's hardly going to happen since she haunts the girl's lavatory! Sometimes she gets flushed out of the castle, but she always comes back, much to our collective dismay – especially Harry’s.

Professor Binns is the only Hogwarts teacher who happens to be a ghost. He enjoyed teaching so much that when he died he kept teaching. The rumor is that he died in mid-lecture and didn’t even notice he had passed on; he simply continued about his lecture. Most of the students find him to be rather boring. Sometimes I have to agree.

Nearly Headless Nick told us about being a ghost. He said that wizards can leave an imprint of themselves on earth and walk about where their living selves once were. I thought it was poetic.

"I never thought I'd say this, but...

I believe I’m beginning to positively dread my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Perhaps it’s simply due to the fact that my sixth year was a bit traumatic. Well, not quite traumatic as all my faculties are still in tact, but still, a bit close to traumatic nonetheless. The headmaster was killed by my former professor, and Malfoy actually proved to be everything Harry’s thought of him for some time now. The attack on the school was horrible… absolutely horrible. And, I know the worst is yet to come.

I’m not a stupid girl. Sometimes I envy those who can’t see the obvious, who can just bounce on about their lives, worrying only about who they’ll end up with and what not. But, I’m not that girl. I’m a bookish girl with too many thoughts running about my head. And though I think I’ve been handling all of these things rather well, I can’t help but find myself a little troubled. Harry’s going to run off in search of horcruxes, and will any of us be able to have his back like Dumbledore did? Ron and I would do anything for Harry, but I worry that even we aren’t enough.

Oh, if I took any sort of stock in the rubbish that Professor Trelawney says, then I’m certain I’d utter some cryptic comment about dark times lying ahead. But, despite my dislike for that woman and her lunacy, I’m beginning to believe that such omens might be true. Dark times very well do lie ahead, and for once, I don’t have the answers.

Talk about one thing you hope to do in the upcoming year that you have never done before. It could be something significant or something trivial.

This may sound a bit trivial, but it's honestly something I strive to accomplish. I want to be able to fly, or at the very least, overcome my fear of doing so. Yes, I have a fear of flying. Well, maybe it's not so far as a fear, but I absolutely hate it. I hate brooms. I hate creatures that can fly - well, not personally, just if I have to fly with them.

I fear that flying may be essential if Voldemort attacks. Harry, Ron, and Ginny all have their quidditch brooms and can fly without a bit of trouble well, so long as Ron isn't trying to block something. For that matter, I don't believe I know anyone who can't fly. And, I'm not at all suggesting that I lack the ability to do so. I just... don't particularly enjoy it. And because I don't enjoy it? I haven't really applied myself to probably understand how to do it. Yes, that's it.

But, what if I should need to fly? I'm not at all implying that I have a sudden urge to play quidditch because I do not! But, what if I need to fly? To get away? To protect myself? I can perform any spell, make any potion, but flying? I simply can not do. But, it might be a necessary skill to learn, for my own safety - though, I find flying to be completely unsafe, but that's beside the point in this matter.

So. That's what I would like to accomplish this year. Flying. But, I think I'll wait a bit to get started on it.

If you could change one aspect of your society, what would it be?

There is too much hate in the world. Is there even a true period of innocence anymore? Just one pure moment that isn't tainted by negative influence? No, not really.

I feel the pain of this at school, mostly. There's the inter-house rivalry which is far from just a spirited competition among classmates and peers. No. Distaste fills the mouths, overloads the senses, between Gryffindor and Slytherin house - though, even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw don't tend to favor Slytherin in the slightest. There's also the dislike for Muggle-borns, prominent mostly in the Pureblood circles. And, of course, we can't forget the collective hatred for Voldemort that makes us afraid and bitter for feeling afraid.

Nothing is pure anymore. Somehow, someway, everything gets tained. But if I could change things, just a little? I'd make it so that some things can still be held dear, still be precious, still be pure, without the bitter taste that hatred and negativity tend to leave on everything.

Dance.

I've really only been to one dance. It's not as if I attend Muggle school; we don't have things such as homecoming and prom, though my mum tells me such things are most frivolous and would likely bore me. But, we did have one formal dance at Hogwarts during my fourth year, and it was much like my mum’s descriptions on muggle dances – frivolous and a tad boring.

I did, however, have a date which created a significant amount of issue with Ron and Harry – well, Ron more so than Harry. Ron apparently came to the grand conclusion that I was indeed a girl and could thereby go with him. Of course, I refused, though it was mostly because I already had a date. Yes, I had a date with Viktor Krum; he’s a pretty famous Quidditch player, if you follow that sort of thing.

But, the dance was… well, it started out okay. I had a very pretty periwinkle dress, and my hair was actually not frizzing out all over the place; it took hours to make it behave, but that’s beside the point. We danced a bit, and there was a band and such. It was okay, except for the fact that Ron and Harry had made their dates miserable, thus leading Ron to take it upon himself to make everyone’s date miserable. I think he was just bitter due to his dress robes, but still, he had no reason to be so immature – though, does he ever need a reason?

Tunnel. Click to see the image, Hermione-style.

As she started to walk down the narrow pathway in the tunnel, she knew it was a very bad idea. The day began with a bad idea, so really, this was just another in a series of bad ideas. Hermione Granger didn't often have such things, so a day filled with bad ideas? Was unsettling, to say the least.

When she awoke that morning, she decided it would be nice to let Crookshanks out for a bit. Yes, she felt that it would do her poor, half-Kneazle cat a bit of good to get out of the house. At school, she could take him out on the grounds, but keeping him trapped in her muggle home was only upsetting the furry beast. And how was he taking out his anger? On her parents' furniture, of course. She was growing tired of practicing spells to mend the tattered pieces on the back of the sofa.

Now, she did at least try to go about her plan in a sensible, muggle way. She bought a sparkly collar and a matching leash. The lady at the store insisted that some cats were able to wear the leash just fine, walk about, have very little arguement. And, really, Crooks wore the collar with very little fighting. She walked him around the house with no problems at all!

She certainly didn't want to take him out near the street. So, she walked down the street with the fuzzy monostrosity in her arms until she reached the park that was in fair walking distance from her home. She continued to walk along until she felt they were far enough away from cars and... well, from dogs, because that would certainly be unsettling to her beloved cat. She stopped near a tunnel and decided it would be a safe place to let Crooks walk for a bit. However, she underestimated her cat's strength. Before she knew it, she was standing there with nothing but a torn leash in her hand. She glanced around and thought she caught a glimpse of fur running down the tunnel ahead. She ran after him, but she saw no trace of him. She sighed, "Oh, Crooks..."

Write about a memory of summer.

August 24, 1994

It was just one week before the start of her fourth year at Hogwarts. With it being so close to the start of the term, she felt she really ought to be at home, reading her new textbooks to prepare. But, she couldn’t. The Weasleys had gotten tickets to the 422nd Quidditch world cup, and she had been invited to tag along. She had no interest in Quidditch – that was a well-known fact! But, she certainly couldn’t refuse any invitation from her best mate’s family.

She had done her research, at least. She didn’t find the sport particularly appealing – mostly because the idea of flying make her ill to her stomach, and the thought of flying for the purpose of tossing a quaffle or catching the snitch seemed to be an absolutely mental idea to her as it would likely be a near-death experience if she attempted it. But, she found the event itself to be intriguing. She read that there were two-hundred portkeys scattered around Britain which all lead to a nice, deserted moor with Muggle-Repelling charms on every square inch of it.

Her eyes were wide as she reached the end of the lantern-lit trail, following the Weasleys and Harry closely. She accepted her velvet-colored, tasseled-program and marveled at the strange, golden light that seemed to come from no source, but from just the stadium itself. For awhile, she let herself be lost in the moment, lost in the crowd. There would be time for fear and insecurity later, but for now, she was just a girl, ready to enjoy – or, at least attempt to enjoy – the Quidditch world cup with her dearest mates in all the world.

Look out! Select the word(s) of your choice and complete the scene. You're walking/strolling/wandering/running/ducking past a window/door/tent flap/cave opening/car/alleyway and a bullet/rock/arrow/book/knife whistles past your head. You immediately…


You're running past an alleyway and a rock whistles past your head. You immediately wish you hadn’t decided to go on this little excursion alone. You glance over your shoulder, staring down Knockturn Alley, searching for the source of the rock. You don’t see anyone, which makes it all the more worrisome. You know you mustn’t walk down that path; you know very well it isn’t the safest place to go, certainly not when you’re alone and it’s quickly growing dark. You turn to continue on your way, with your stack of newly purchased books in hand, but another rock skitters against your shoe.

You sigh, unable to control yourself. You had only meant to go on a quick trip to Flourish & Botts and then, perhaps, to get a new cloak. You take a tentative step to the darker alley, knowing very well that it isn’t your brightest of ideas. You notice a shop not too far into the shadows that you weren’t aware existed. Strange. It’s a book store, and you know you really can’t resist just a quick peek.

You slip inside, hoping to go unnoticed, but the shopkeeper is quick to ask what such a young witch would possibly need in his store. You were looking for a book on horcruxes, thinking it might help Harry. Flourish & Botts, however, had next to nothing on the subject. Of course, as far as you knew, it wasn’t a widely documented field of study. You express your search to the man, leaving out the details about the Boy-Who-Is-Your-Best-Friend. He eyes you oddly for a moment then disappears into a back room. He returns promptly with a dusty book that smells faintly of a potion Neville brewed terribly wrong. He tells you this book has a little information, but he warns you that there are things in its pages that may taint you. You aren’t sure what he means, but you ask how much the book will cost. He tells you not to worry, it’s a gift; he tells you to run along, before it gets too dark. You thank him and leave feeling anxious and unsettled.

You run again, quick to finish your tasks, but it has gotten awfully dark outside. You’re tempted to pout, but you decide you can come back tomorrow – it’s another excuse to get out of your summer prison for a bit. You apparate back to the safety of your muggle room, and that incident with the rock is completely forgotten. At least, it was, until you hear a tap against the window that sounds as if a rock has been thrown from outside. Someone still wants your attention, but who?

Do you tend to make friends easily? Why/why not?

I think I tend to be a little better at making friends now than I was when I first started at Hogwarts. It used to be very difficult for me. I preferred my textbooks to friends, and I had no problems showing off everything I had learned – that, really, hasn’t changed much. Ron and Harry didn’t really care for me in our first year. In fact, they had no problems talking about how positively mental I was – which, still hasn’t changed much, except that I think now they do it more in fun.

As a prefect, I do try to be friendly when I can – especially when we’re leading the first years, since they all seem so nervous and uncertain. At the same time, I have to be strict and make sure that they mind the rules and such! I tend to be bossy, which doesn’t usually make people so inclined to be friends with me. I do believe that the majority of the Gryffindor students are my friends, and since I see them daily, that’s good enough for me.

Ginny has become one of my closest friends. Everyone just assumes that Harry and Ron are all I’ve got, but Ginny is truly a great friend. I really hope her brothers haven’t made her pull her hair out during the summer this year!

Talk about something you inherited. (It could be an object, a physical attribute, a belief, etc.)


Inheritance? That's an interesting subject. In fact, it's a subject I've given considerable amount of thought to. However, despite the fact that I've given it such thought, I have few answers to my questions. Of course, my questions are tricky ones, which kind of explains why I don't have a complete explanation.

I'm muggle-born. That means that my parents are not magical in the slightest. As far as we know, there isn't anyone in our family that has any sort of magical ability - not even a squib. But, I'm a witch - a lot of people insist that I'm the brightest witch of my year. So, where did my magic come from?

Sometimes I wish that I was like my friends - I wish I knew without a doubt in my mind where my abilities came from. I want to say that they were inherited, from generations of great wizards and witches. But, I can't say that. I have absolutely no idea why I'm the only one in my family who has this gift. So, as I said, inheritance is an interesting subject.