Oh, my lovely library… I missed it so. Technically speaking, it’s Madam Pince’s library, but I’ve been through it thoroughly and I spend so much of my free time here that it must come as no surprise that I feel somewhat possessive. There’s a certain seat that I normally take to work in. It’s midway along the long side of the table two from the corner. There are enough stacks around that it’s not too public; it’s deep enough in the library and far enough away from the ‘popular’ section that it’s relatively quiet; the light is at just the level I prefer; the books I need most often are relatively nearby (though I must admit I would sometimes prefer it to be otherwise – it would give me an excuse to go on little walks and browse through the stacks. Not that I don’t do that anyway.) I sit facing towards the door, because the events of the past four years have taught me “constant vigilance” far more effectively than Professor Moody-that-was- really-Crouch. He was a fairly decent Professor, though – surprisingly enough, since he was a Death-Eater in disguise. Professor Lupin was better, of course – and I’m not just saying that out of bias because he was one of the best friends of the parents of one of my best friends and is now fighting to protect said best friend and defeat the Dark Wizard who was responsible for the death of said parents among many, many others. I’m also saying that because he genuinely was a good teacher and he is a good, decent person. So the worst of our DADA professors – hmm. Lockhart was fairly useless, though not actually evil – just a selfish idiot. Quirell was also fairly useless and harbouring Voldemort. Moody, who was reasonable, turned out not to be Moody; and Lupin, who was good, is a werewolf. The new one seems to be reasonable, but he’s lacking a certain – empathy, I think – that Remus had. Another retired Auror, and apparently he is who he claims to be – Jeremiah Faber. Only one class from him thus far, but he talked to us about various methods of protection and says he’ll teach us all of them. Tomorrow, however, we find out Ten Fool-Proof Ways to Spot a Death-Eater. I just don’t like the man! I respect him for his work and everything he’s done and what he’s doing for us and all of that, but… He’s a good choice.

Oddly enough, Professor Snape seems to respect him too – there was a visible lack of hostility towards Faber. There was a lack of much emotion at all. He sneered at Harry as per usual; but there didn’t seem to be much behind that. He seemed… depressed, I think. With everything that’s going on, that’s hardly surprising.

Harry went to see the Headmaster, the night after we came back, and he seems more peaceful now. And he brought us back a little information. We find out so many things that we’re not supposed to know – but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing. I think in this case ignorance would be bliss. But Dumbledore’s right – we have to know.

Hagrid’s mission to the giants didn’t go well – apparently they’re about as tolerant of half-bloods as the Slytherins are. But it looks like not many of them will put aside enough of their distrust to join with Voldemort (even when they’re sure of his return) so that’s something of a relief. It’s better to have them neutral than fighting against us. Of course, it would be better still if they fought with us.

Neutrality sucks! They should just decide what they’re going to do and then do it. And they should decide to help us.

It just makes me wonder how many other races are out there, hiding behind neutrality in distant mountains and secluded valleys. I mean, I’ve read about a lot of them, but some things I just don’t know, and it’s so frustrating because I would know more about these things if I’d grown up in the wizarding world, and when I make mistakes Ron starts acting all superior and ohh!

And Ron’s a whole other set of frustrations. That I’m not going to think about.

There’s a place near the lake that I like to go. It’s fairly well-hidden by the trees, but you can see the water, and there are a couple of nice big rocks to sit on. It’s probably a prime snogging spot in the evenings. But I’ve never seen anyone else there. I can sit and get some thinking done in private. I can even cry there if I have to. I hate crying. I’m not supposed to cry. Oh, I know, boys cry too, it’s not a sign of weakness, all that stuff. I’m just not supposed to. And I hardly ever do. But this is one of the safe places. Along with my bed at home and my bed here; but I have to be sure to keep quiet so nobody hears me. Not that I’ve done it more than a few times, and that’s generally after nightmares and what-have-you.

I saw Harry trying not to cry after the Tournament. He tried to stop it, tried to hide it ‘cause boys just don’t do that sort of thing. But I think it was me he minded seeing him, and not any of the others, because I’m his best male friend and you just don’t do that. It’s OK to cry in front of a female friend and a mother and other sympathetic adults, but you can’t break down like that in front of your best friend who has relied on you for four years to save his skin and occasionally his life.

Next thing you know I’ll be “sharing” my feelings. Oh, I think not.

And anyway, how am I supposed to talk about them when I’m not even sure what they are? I mean… I don’t get it. But I kind of sort of maybe understand what’s happening with some other people. Like maybe possibly Hermione likes me. As in likes me. Which is weird and wrong and makes me feel good but can’t possibly be true. Because look at me. I’m Ron. Youngest of six boys etc etc and why doesn’t she like Harry? They’re friends too! I suppose she didn’t grow up hearing about him (like some people I could mention) but even without all that he’s still stronger and braver and nicer and calmer and generally a better person than me. And then there’s the international Quidditch player who is apparently “just a friend” and surprisingly enough the way she says it does convince me.

Faber – the new DADA Prof – doesn’t. I’m just not sure about him. Oldish ex- Auror, that’s pretty cool, but… Hermione’s defending him like she always does, but at least she doesn’t have a crush on this one.

Snape didn’t yell at us. I’m confused. It’s one of the constants of this place: there will be a new Professor for Defence Against Dark Arts; Professor Trelawney will predict horrible death for Harry; Neville will forget the password to Gryffindor Tower; Snape will yell.

Neville’s actually managed to remember so far, so he’s been in and out of the common room without hindrance. But who knows how long it will last?

The common room feels like home. People all over the place, people doing all sorts of things, people talking and laughing. Hell, half my family’s here. It’s bigger and plusher and the view’s bloody amazing but it reminds me of home. Even down to the arguments. It must not be fun for Mum, stuck between Dad and Percy without even us to distract them any more. I should try and write more this year – keep her updated. Though it’s entirely possible, when it comes to Voldemort, that she knows more than I do. I find it hard to believe she would happily sit at home twiddling her thumbs while her family is in danger – she’s like a mother bear, or something, and she’ll defend us with everything she has.

That’s a comforting thought.

Quidditch practices start on Tuesday. I can’t wait… I love flying just for the sake of it, but when you’ve learned to fly and strategise a game; at the same time, you find that flying solo leaves a whole lot of brain free to ramble. My brain isn’t being quite as poisonous at the moment, though, so…

I went to see Dumbledore. He asked about the nightmares, though I’ve been keeping him updated. Some. The ones that are visions instead of just watching everyone I’ve ever cared about being horrifically killed. He advised me to go to Madam Pomfrey for a Dreamless Sleep Potion, but told me it was only a temporary solution. A night or two of decent sleep can’t help but make you feel better though. Some of the news he gave me wasn’t very good: the giants aren’t much use; the Ministry as a whole is still being stubbornly idiotic; the attacks are on the increase; the Aurors are woefully unprepared, most of them – though that’s being sorted. There were some bits of good news, but it’s hard to pay attention to them. The fact that Crabbe the elder got arrested (I was wondering why the son wasn’t looking at people) pales when told that Malfoy Senior is still out there wreaking his own endearing brand of havoc. It’s odd, how the generations seem to parallel each other so precisely…

Dive. Pull out so early it could barely be described as a Feint. Spiral up. Loop. Dive again. Keep diving. Keep diving. Fight for control on the pull- up two feet from the surface of the lake – hey, not stupid here. Make self reconsider that assessment as have vivid image of looping the loop and dropping off the broom at the top to twist and land on it again at the bottom – and actually think about trying it. Hmm. I could always just go for a swim.

I really don’t think so. I’m still a stupid prat and I have no need of moral fibre. I may well have to compromise myself in the future.

What else am I going to have to lose? My parents, my childhood, my chance at love, my conscience, my life? It’s not fair!

Though I could have love, I think, if that person was in danger already. I would say Hermione, but Ron would beat me up and I really do think of her simply as a friend. The only others in as much danger because of me are the Weasleys – I’m just not going to start on Sirius and “the old crowd” because… well, I’m looking for a teenage girl here! So that means Ginny.

Ginny. Younger sister, to some extent – but not so much that it would feel incestuous, just enough that I feel protective and stuff already. The massive crush she used to have on me was embarrassing at the time, but it makes me think I’ve got a reasonable chance with her. And she is undeniably pretty, with that long red hair and… What colour are her eyes? I’m sure I should know. I’m not sure what colour my best friends’ eyes are, though, and I’ve known them longer and better. I’m sure, however, they could each inform me.

I heard somewhere that looking into the eyes of the person you’re speaking to conveys sincerity, but I’ve never been comfortable with it. In my experience, if you keep your head down and you make sure not to make eye contact, you might get lucky enough to be ignored. It was never likely with me, since Duddykins was brought up to despise me in particular – but sometimes it worked for the others.

I envied them.

But look at me now! No longer a victim of bullies (if you ignore Malfoy according to Ron’s plan – he could have and should have told us, because it makes sense and the reasons go for us as well as for him) but the most famous boy in my world. Huh. Different type of unwanted attention.

I’m such a lucky child.