by Harry James Potter, aged seventeen years, three hundred and thirteen days.
A gift to the masses from the Boy Who Lived.
A symphony of words.
A touching demonstration of my fondness for the little people, as shown by my ability to continue interacting with them despite the fact that I am, of course, above all of this, which is why I usually do not bother with updating this journal.
To my best estimate, I awoke at 07.47 yesterday morning. I took one look at the mirror beside my bed and thought, 'It's good to be Harry Potter' before giving my reflection its customary good morning wink. Whistling a tuneless tune, I voyaged valiantly to the shower and checked for shades of evil lurking in the shadows. Seeing that there were none, I proceeded. Afterwards, I carefully arranged my hair out of place and speckled water onto my glasses so that people would continue to wonder how I can possibly see out of them for all the spots on the lenses.
For breakfast, I evidently ate enough toast to feed my little friend Ron Weasley's entire family for a year, along with a healthy glass of milk. I enjoy bread, as it reminds me of the time I swam the Channel and built a makeshift raft out of stale bread. I, of course, always make certain to get enough Calcium on a daily basis. Should I find out that anyone else doesn't meet the Calcium requirement, I shall likely have you killed and/or thrown out of Hogwarts. I can do that, you see. For I am Harry Potter. We all know that I'm running the show.
After breakfast it was a quick stop to Dumbledore's office to advise him on financial matters and then I was off to Double Charms. We've been learning the Patronus Charm and since I already know all I need to know, Professor Flitwick awarded me with a brand new home just off of Vienna. The property deeds shall be here soon. I also received six hundred house points for Gryffindor due to the fact that I slept in what Flitwick deemed 'an angelic manner.' The Ravenclaws were stunned and broke into a spontaneous standing ovation.
On the way to lunch, several first years handed me gold for honouring them with my presence in the corridor. I paused to ponder the wonders of being me and stood at the window poetically, watching the inferior sunlight on the courtyard. I made a note to myself to ask that the sun be dimmed so that it's no longer brighter than my the gleam of my teeth and continued to the Great Hall.
My lunch was served on a silver platter, which invoked needless jealousy in my peers, but as I informed them that I'd developed a way to rid the world of freckles, they got over it. I spoke at length about world hunger and had one of the other Gryffindors start a row with a Slytherin who was wasting food. Good lord, I simply cannot stand to see others waste food. It's an abomination, and I, Harry Potter, shan't stand for it any longer.
I perused a copy of The Daily Prophet, and seeing there were only the requisite five articles about me in this edition, passed it on to Colin Creevey. I am so giving.
Today was a lengthy day, given that we had Double Charms in the morning and Double Herbology after lunch. Professor Sprout asked me to teach the class in her place, as she was forced to recognise that I know more about Herbology than she does, but I demurely declined. She seemed insulted, but opted not to say anything, as she likely knew that I would beat her to a bloody pulp if she did. Professors.
I did have a conversation with that Hermione Granger, but I can't be bothered to remember the details any longer.
After Herbology, Draco Malfoy forced me to watch while he worked tirelessly on repairing the robes that got burnt the other evening. I suppose I could have helped to make the task easier. I, however, would have none of this and decided to sit lazily on the table whilst summarising my day for him in immaculate detail. I do wish that I could be as stoic as Draco Malfoy. There he was, a set of robes singed, and did he complain? As a matter of fact, he didn't. Upon discovering that his task was fruitless, he instead threw them in the dustbin without a word about the loss of his robes, which even burnt were in far better condition than mine. Draco Malfoy is a veritable god, and even my heroic glow is dulled in his presence.
His skin is so flawless, and mine is so flawed. I must admit, I'm quite jealous that I've never managed to keep up with him in lessons. I'm quite concerned about the potion we're to brew on Friday, but Malfoy seemed to have things under control. I sought his precious advice, but even so I am certain that my potion shall be a mere shadow of his. Oh, to be a Malfoy.
A few hours later, I was honoured to walk to the Great Hall in the presence of Draco Malfoy. I enjoyed dinner and alot of small talk with that redheaded fellow you frequently see me with. We discussed putting a Quidditch game together, but I doubt that he shall have the time, given that he's constantly busy hanging off the breast of one of the Patil twins.
I slept fitfully last night, which was rather worrisome. I shall have to force myself to sleep earlier this evening, despite the fact that this likely means I will end up going to bed immediately after dinner. How will I digest?
I'm currently in the library waiting to go to Transfiguration, as I've a free spot on Thursday mornings. I've just informed Draco Malfoy of a dream I had last night in which I was being chased by a ravenous piece of toast that was evidently tired of being eaten by me. I'm clearly disturbed.