Sept. 1993

Cherished diary,

It seems my quest for popularity has finally been fulfilled, at least partially. My former petrification has brought me a great deal of attention from my peers. Both Sonnet and Tony spent much of the summer exchanging letters with me. It was a welcome distraction from the tumultuous terrors of home.

It's my fault I'm sure. Foolish to get petrified, foolish to put myself in danger. Foolish foolish foolish foolish foolish.

I made sure to invite both of them to sit with me on the train. Giving them a chance to bask in my glory, of course. Tony was ecstatic at first, but once Sonnet arrived, he got all weird and quiet. Something strange is going on with him. Before I had a chance to question it, the cold set in.

Spiderwebs of frost stretched across the glass of the train windows. Our breaths came out in thick puffs of white, and goosebumps prickled our arms. Sonnet's perpetually worried face reached a new degree of troubled. Even Tony went somewhat gray. I, of course, was unaffected other than the chills. What kind of a wimp would be scared of a dementor.

Harry, apparently. The absolute wuss. I'd be happier to hear of his misfortune if his popularity didn't seem to grow with everything he did. How does one even compete? Draco has been telling anyone who listens about the "great Harry Potter collapsing on the train," complete with exaggerated reenactment. He must not get enough attention at home, vying for it so. When that hippogriff gouged him in Care of Magical Creatures he stretched the injury for weeks. Laaaame.

For once another class can hold a candle to Professor Snape and Potions. Lupin looks somewhat scruffy, but he knows what he's doing. Our first class he had us face a boggart. Some kind of fear shapeshifter, I guess. We practiced the Ridikulus charm and lined up in front of an old wardrobe. One by one my peers stepped up and came face to face with their worst fears. I made a mental note of some of them, these would be handy later. At last it was my turn. I didn't know what my boggart would be, maybe a weird looking bug or something. But nothing could prepare me for what I faced.

The boggart dissolved into black smoke and began to reform. There before me were my parents, faces stone hard and glaring. My mother held a stack of paperwork. I immediately knew what they were. The divorce papers. Boggart-Dad raised his arm to point in my direction. Silently, he mouthed "You..."

"Ridikulus!" With a flash the papers were gone and my parents were doing a complicated dual juggling routine. The class erupted in laughter, but I could barely force a smile. Tears pricked my eyes as I hurried to the back of the classroom. Sonnet gave me a concerned look, but I waved him on. This was my issue to face alone.

One could hardly blame me for being a tad harsher in Potions that day. A weird cloaked Gryffindor was doing far too well for my liking. As he expertly chopped the ingredients to his antidote, my eyes followed him, face contorted into a sneer. I had an intense need to assert my dominance, loudly exclaiming something about superiority. Immediately he rose to defend himself, challenging me to do better. It was my best performance all year. Professor Snape said he had never seen two antidotes more perfect, and begrudgingly gave Slytherin and Gryffindor ten points. Nothing pushes you to excel quite like a rival. I suppose I'll have to accept this fox-like boy's presence.

Tony's strangeness is growing every day. When I tried to offer him some candy from my robes, his eyes widened in fear and he quickly scuttered away. Where did his spine go? Just last year we were literally duelingduelling in the hallways. Now he can barely muster a look at me. I'd prefer hexes and pocket knives to this utter foolishness.

And don't even get me started on this Burvis creep. We don't have many classes with Ravenclaws but I can feel his greasy gaze on me when we pass in the hallways. On occasion, I catch him staring longingly in Tony's direction. It makes me feel... weird. Why is he looking at my Tony like that? I'll have to do something about this. He better keep his buttery hands off of my friends or he'll catch something worse than a stinging hex.

If they get too close to Tony, they'll all regret it.