October 10th, 1997
You know mates, I don't think it is right for Neville to always get all of the bacon at breakfast. I think it would be a much better system if we could just divide the plates so that I don't get stuck with the kippers all the time just because I sleep late. Men need their beauty rest just as much as women, especially if I have ladies to be wooing in the afternoon. And if I have to eat another kipper, I will just absolutely keel over and die because they are terrible, no matter what you put them in or how you prepare them.
Later this afternoon, I have a date with a charming lady that I met recently, and I hope she's wearing a very short skirt, because she has a very nice bum. Although, it would help immensely if I did not have to eat kippers every morning for breakfast, because it distracts me from her nice bum, which is often walking past our table and flaunting itself. Stop eating the bacon, Neville! Other people like bacon! I, Seamus Finnigan, like bacon! Contrary to popular belief, kippers for breakfast stinks.
October 2nd, 1997
You know, all things considered it could have been much worse, lads. I mean, which one of you got Gretchen Spinks? Because she is a shite kisser, that Gretchen...her mouth is just too big. But Daphne Greengrass isn't all that bad, I don't know where Parkinson gets off saying she's got pie thighs, because she has rather nice thighs and legs and an excellent bottom.
Of course, I have known all along who was behind this whole thing! I know Lavvers' handiwork anywhere! The matching purple napkins were a dead giveaway if you ask me, but no one did. Anyway, thank you Lavender, I don't expect I'll be seeing Daphne again soon, but she's a much better
kisser companion than Gretchen who was always trying to talk as you put the moves on her, if you know what I'm getting at, Daphne is much quieter which can only be good as far as I'm concerned because it allows me to be charming and dashing with little interruption, I think she was blown away by the french poetry recitation and it was all...erm...downhill, from there. Not that I am being euphemistic, or I might be.
Say. Has anyone noticed how much better the dormitories have smelled since I've been a charmer? You're welcome.
July 29th, 1997
Hermione and I seem to be in a bit of a similar boat...Mum and I were at it for hours trying to explain to Dad what exactly all this means and eventually he just stomped off to a pub after they had a row about the dangers of being involved in the wizarding world, like Mum had a choice. The one thing they agreed on, naturally, was that I shouldn't go back to Hogwarts...at least it seems like other parents are coming to similar conclusions...
The pictures of the escapees just arrived. Everyone looks pretty dodgy, wouldn't you say? I wouldn't invite any of these characters in for high tea, is all I'm saying. Though if they're really so dangerous, I suppose they wouldn't stop for niceties before delivering an Unforgivable...
I'm going to go lie down.
July 7th, 1997
Not much squawking about grades and such from the Gryffindor side of things. Mine were fine, that's all you need to know (although remind me to get a girlfriend who's good at that blasted Transfiguration).
How's my summer? Owls were flying in daily for the first two weeks, with tokens of admiration from various first-now-second-years, but things have quieted down. What can I say? I'm idolized. Just be glad it's not going to my head, eh? Sorry for any disruption on the train ride home, though. I seriously had no idea those boys were going to be so...fervent in their celebration of all things Finnigan.
Dean, talked to Mum, you can come over anytime you like, though I don't want to hear the slightest bit about Ginny Weasley while you're here, understand? No, for the last time, I'm not jealous, I just don't want to hear a normally fine bloke ramble on about the wiles of a younger woman. There are no, I repeat, NO 6th year seductresses at Hogwarts. If there were, I would have dated them by now.
June 13th, 1997
I can't believe there hasn't been any news since Ron and Hermione were called out of class this morning. Sprout's patrolling us like a hawk, aurors are everywhere. Does this happen at other schools?
With all the rubbish about Harry as the new Dalai Lama, I'm surprised no one's discussed what may be an obvious case of YOU KNOW WHO somehow being behind this. I mean honestly people, something's happened at the end of every term, and it's only been getting worse. This morning Harry's things were all ruffled through...and he'd been almost packed up and ready to leave. I don't need Ernie or Justin to tell me that something's amiss.
And honestly, if they're taking Ron and Hermione to an undisclosed location, they could have at least let them bring their natters.
June 12th, 1997
Everyone, relax. As a fellow Gryffindor, I have the full scoop on what happened to Harry, and as such, it's my duty to inform all of you. First off, Justin's a berk. Poisoned pumpkin juice? Kidnapping? I was in my room looking at moon charts when it happened, but Nearly Headless Nick talked to the Grey Lady and came back and told me that Harry'd been playing chess, his scar LIT ON FIRE (and they call ME the pyromaniac). Suddenly, he was thrashing on the ground, rolling around the common room, crying for help! He stopped for one minute to vomit this purple liquid, which eventually formed the shape of YOU KNOW WHO HIMSELF! That's when Madam Pomfrey dragged him up the stairs to the hospital wing (they couldn't find a stretcher) and resuscitated him before he'd even stopped breathing! It was an amazing save.
Hmm. On second thought, something doesn't sound quite right about that story.
Doubt you've got your natter with you, but I hope you're okay, mate.
Just back from the Great Hall, and I'm about to catch some sleep before our rendezvous with Professor Sinistra tonight. Terribly worried about that one, you know, what with my habit of falling asleep in class. Now I'm thinking that that lunascope I saw at Diagon Alley would have been a pretty good investment for me, considering I can't tell a waning gibbous from a waxing one. At dinner I perfected my handwriting so that my "n" in waning could possibly be an "x", just in case Sinistra doesn't have her glasses on when she grades my exam. Foolproof, I think, eh, Dean?
Ron brought up a good point over on his natter. Is Harry doing alright? I'd chalk it up to examination blues, but there are a few cases of the sniffles going round the Gryffindor common room.
May 24th, 1997
Everyone's in the common room, so if any lovely Hufflepuff ladies want to celebrate in private, my room is free...
May 3rd, 1997
Is there a loose Natter in the Gryffindor stands? If so, it's skittering around in the row behind me.
April 8th, 1997
Er, I need a favor from my fellow wonderful, loving Gryffindors.
Could you possibly allow me and my little group some space in the back of the stands?
AND NO HERMIONE WE ARE NOT UP TO ANYTHING SHUSH.
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