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This diary entry is written by ‹Lora Patsy Poodle›. ( View all entries )
 
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>My Hogwarts Life< llCategory: Hogwarts
Monday, 18 August 2008
08:06:45 AM (GMT)
Chapter ll
I was reawakened by a small  head nudging my legs.
	Norman. He must want breakfast… Now, judging by how hard the nudges were. Finally,
after a minute or so, he swiped my leg with one of his claws. I jumped up, scaring
him off the bed, over to my trunk. Smart cat knew exactly where the food was. I
shooed him away, digging through the open trunk until I found Deli-Kitty, his dry
food.
	“No wet food until we’re safe and sound at Hogwarts for a long shot,” I told
him, seeing him sniffing the food with disappointment, “It should hold you over all
day.”
	I stuck my head out the door, trying to figure out whose room could have been the
twins. According to my watch, it had just turned 8am. They should still be asleep.
Might as well give them a good wake up knock.
	I strutted to the end of the corridor and readied myself in a running position. I
kicked off the ground, sprinting down the halls, reaching out my arms to ensure that
I could knock on every door in the log hallway.
	As the first angry head popped out of its room, looking for the culprit, I had
already turned the corner. I halted a few steps away, taking in a few breaths, trying
to transform my flushed, guilty face into a composed, innocent witness’s
expression. As soon as I was ready, I started back down the halls, trying my best to
look confused at the sudden commotion.
	As I was ignoring an exaggerated interview with one of my oblivious victims, I
happened to look right at the back of a redheaded gentleman. I excused myself from
the bystander, I burst into a full run towards the redhead. Finally, I get to see
Fred and George again! I thought, full of joy that I could see them once again. I
hadn’t seen them all summer; they were in Egypt.
	I wish the redhead never turned around. As it twisted upon the bearer’s neck, it
revealed neither of the twins, but only to show that my happiness had been directed
at Ron, the youngest son. Unfortunately, he did not see me coming, a mistake the
twins would never had made, because they know that once I get going, I ain’t
slowing down anytime soon. Sock don’t help, either.
	In a second, I was eating Freckled Face for breakfast. In other words, I smacked
into Ron really, really hard. I fell backwards to the floor onto my back.
“Owwie,” I moaned as I lifted myself to my elbows.
	Finally out of his shock, Ron managed to yawn out a “Hey Lizzie,” while wiping
drool off his jaw. “When did you get here?”
	My attention still on the left over drool, I absentmindedly replied, “Oh, about
three hours ago. With the Floo Powder Ms. Molly sent…” I couldn’t take it
anymore. I ran into Ron’s room, grabbed a unidentified piece of cloth, and scrubbed
his jaw down.
	“Lizzie!” Ron yelled, shoving me off him, “You’re worse than my mom!” He
grumbled some more before I interrupted him with the question I should have asked
before I locked onto the drool.
	“Where’s Fred and George?”
	“Still asleep, two doors down to your right.”
	“Shall I?”
	“Be my guest,” Ron replied, right away plugging his ears before closing the door
to his room.
	I inhaled all the air I could into my lungs and cupped my hands over my mouth,
screaming out:
	“FRED! GEORGE! WAKEY-WAKEY TIME! NO USE IN WASTIN’ AWAY DAYLIGHT! TIME TO MOVE,
MOVE, MOVE!” I beamed at the door where Ron once stood. According to him, I had a
better waking effect on the twins than their own mother.
	“Guess who, Georgey?” I heard Fred tease George, making kissing noises. That
Fred assumes too much for his own good.
	“Shut up, Freddy-poo. You’re just jealous,” George fired back. Instantly, I
heard a loud THUD and some undistinguishable bickering. Great, it turned into a
fight. 
	I slammed open the door, revealing George on the floor, and Fred getting a shirt on.
He pivoted, smiling, “Hey Liz.” He always won. I looked past him to see if George
was hurt or not. He looked fine until he noticed me staring. He switched onto puppy
eyes.
	“Lizzzzzie!” George yelped, straining out Lizzie for far too long, “The mean
man hurt me!” He pointed at the “mean man”. “Make him go awaaay!”
	I wasn’t a sucker for puppy eyes, but whining voices did get to me. I ran to the
“child”, crying out, “Oh, my poor baby! Tell me, where does it hurt?”
	“The meanie made me bite my lip! Kiss it and make it better?” George said slyly.
I knocked him upside the head and walked past Fred to the doorway.
	“If y’all are quite throu--” before I could finish my sentence, the
troublesome twins were laughing their heads off. Y’all. They just couldn’t
understand it. “Can’t I say once sentence with ‘y’all’ in it without you
two goin’ crazy?”
	They looked at each other and bowed their heads towards me, “We’re sorry Miss
Langer.”
	“Now class,” I played along, “What is it that you say when greeting a teacher
in the morning?”
	They caught on; they rolled their eyes, said in unison, “Good morning, Lizzie,”
and gave me a group hug. Another year with these two fellahs is going to be great.


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