Disclaimer: I don't own The End by Lemony Snicket, Supernatural: Season One and I don't own Harry Potter.

I’ve been called many things before in my life. Know it all, teacher’s pet, a nightmare (honestly) are a few of many that I’ve gained over the years. I would be walking down the hall to the library and hear someone whisper loudly, “Look, there goes that bushy haired know-it-all going to the library to become even better than us,” to their friend. It gets a bit old after a while.

I do have friends. They just don’t like the same kinds of things that I like. Like Harry, who likes Hogwarts and Quidditch, and despises his relatives with a passion. Or Ginny, who used to be obsessed with Harry and now has gone out with three different guys, including Harry. Believe it or not, Harry was the one that actually made the first move to initiate their relationship. Or even Ron, lovely sweet Ron, who can’t be bothered with work of any kind just because he’s a big hero keeper. I’ll just say that both of them couldn’t care less about exams and homework.

What can I really say about Ron? He’s such a pighead, he’s inconsiderate, he’s argumentative, he’s a horrible listener, and he’s absolutely perfect. I know, it doesn’t make any sense, but to me, it does. Well, I’ve loved Ron since I was fifteen years old and saw his adorable face set in a jealous gaze to where Viktor and I were dancing. He needs to get over the fact that Viktor and I hung out together instead of him and Viktor. He can be so aggravating at times, but I just can’t stay mad at him. I just can’t.

He makes me hurt inside so much sometimes. One instance was in third year, when he accused my cat, Crookshanks, of eating his stupid rat, Scabbers. It would have been better if Crookshanks really had, since Scabbers turned out to be an Animagus and the man that betrayed Harry’s parents. Or like last year, when he went out with Lavender Brown, a horrible blond bimbo from my dormitory. It nearly killed inside when I saw them together, looking almost like they were trying to eat each other’s faces. In fact, the only thing that kept me going during those horrible months was Fred and George’s Patent Daydream Charms. I must have gone through nearly fifty of those during my sixth year.

I can’t help loving him though. There are just so many reasons as to why I do. When he sticks out his lower lip when he begs me to help him with his homework, I have to give in to that adorable face. The way those beautiful blue eyes of his light up when he’s talking about Quidditch and the Chudley Cannons. The way the tips of his ears turn pink whenever he’s embarrassed. He’s absolutely amazing, but yet, he doesn’t know. He doubts himself constantly, even when he’s more than capable of doing whatever needs to be done. He beats himself up about being less than what his brothers, parents, and self expects him to be. He’s always wishing to be someone else; someone more popular, someone with more friends, someone who’s better at Quidditch and the list goes on. He does not seem to understand that he is all that and more.

Ron may be quite pigheaded at times, but he’s nowhere near the worst thing at Hogwarts. There’s the Forbidden Forest, with killer spiders and vindictive centaurs. There’s Filch, the caretaker, with his demented cat, Mrs. Norris. (Why is it Mrs., anyway? Who or even what would possibly want to marry that cat? Maybe Filch, but he’s it.) There’s Peeves the poltergeist, who will annoy the crap out of you by either throwing things in the direction of your head or taunting you until you feel ready to throw something in the direction of his head. Then, there’s Professor Snape, who gives Gryffindor students low marks and Slytherin students high marks, when neither group usually deserve his biased grades. Worst of all, there’s the Slytherins themselves, with their king, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy is always around, it seems, throwing the insult “Mudblood” my way. I try not to notice, and give him the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt me, but it still makes me feel as if I don’t belong there.

Sometimes I do wonder if I belong here in the Wizarding world or in the Muggle world. I wish it were as simple as that Muggle story, The Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy clicks her heels together and goes home. I would finally know then if I should have ignored my Hogwarts letter when I got it or should have ever tried to go to Diagon Alley. Its like I’m being torn between two worlds, both of which I love and neither one I want to leave.

I worry so much in the Wizarding world, much more than I do in the Muggle world. I have to worry about Harry and Ron. I have to worry about the Weasley family, which has become my second family. I have to worry about Voldemort and his Death Eaters killing the people I love. In the Muggle world, all I have to worry about are the normal teenage worries, like zits and boys.

Normalcy is something that is strange to me. Being friends with the famous Harry Potter and being the smartest person in your year doesn’t allow you to have much normalcy. I don’t think the normal life would be the life for me, though. It sounds like I would be bored all the time without some kind of weirdo trying to kill me. Having Voldemort come after my friends and I on a regular basis isn’t scary or weird anymore. It’s like its part of our daily routine now. Breakfast, Charms, fighting Voldemort, lunch, it’s just so normal.

Now with the war and everything that is going on, I have twice the normal stress level. Not really knowing when or where Voldemort will strike next will do that to a person. Most of our other schoolmates, our referring to Harry, Ron, and myself, don’t have to worry about things like that. It’s like it is our duty to worry, worrying about Voldemort, and even more about Harry.

I don’t think that I would trade the adventure in my life for anything. I wouldn't trade Ron or Harry or Ginny. I wouldn’t even trade Filch or the Slytherins (okay, maybe Malfoy, but I have good reason). I guess the Wizarding World is where I really belong.

AN: Thanks to my fabaulous beta, phoenix_dancer, at the HPFF forums.