So this is my diary. I’ve never kept one before, so bare with me. I never wanted to write down my thoughts and feelings just in case Dudley had the half-intelligence to find the diary and show it to his parents, my aunt and uncle. Hermione suggested I keep a diary this summer, however, after ‘bottling my feelings up’ created problems last year. I wasn’t going to do it, but I’ve been here two days and, apart from my chores, there’s really nothing to do. It couldn’t hurt, I suppose. It’s enchanted so that it can only be opened by me. Hermione’s smart to get one like that. Having to share a bedroom with four other girls will do that to you I guess. I’ll just write down whatever pops into my head. I’m still not sure what good it will be. It might make some interesting reading years from now, perhaps. Years from now! That all depends on if I’m still alive years from now, really, doesn’t it? Oh well, shouldn’t get too morbid in my first entry should I? Where should I start then? What should I say? Told you I was new at this. The closest I’ve ever got to keeping a diary before was predicting my death and analysing my dreams for Divination and that old bat Trelawney. And the only diary I’ve ever actually held before was possessed by the memory of a wizard who tried to kill me. So you’ll forgive my loss of appropriate diary etiquette. I suppose I should start from the beginning.
This morning I was awoken to the words, “Wake up, freak!” and opened my eyes to see the extremely close, extremely ugly, face of Dudley Dursley, (my annoying half-wit bullyboy cousin), two inches from my own. If that wasn’t nice enough, his breath smelled like a bog dwelling troll. He ordered me to get up for breakfast whilst pinning my shoulder to the bed. I’d have cursed him but I’m not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts. I can’t wait until I’m of age. I’d still probably get in trouble if I turned him into a pincushion, though, wouldn’t I? I got up, showered and got ready and went downstairs. Aunt Petunia barked at me to keep watch on the bacon while she set out the plates. I did this, feeling intensely hungry. When it was ready I did as told and served everybody two eggs, bacon, fried tomato and toast, making sure I only got the smallest sliver of bacon. Dudley is supposed to be on a diet, but having lost the amount of weight his school nurse insisted on, he’s allowed to have ‘three tasty square meals’ but no snacks. Funny how he always manages to be eating some such thing at all hours of the day. I sat down and started to eat my sliver of bacon and piece of cold toast when Aunt Petunia loomed over me. “Would you like some tea?” she asked. I almost choked. I was so surprised I couldn’t speak for a moment. I replied, “Yes, please,” and was positively relieved when she spat, “Well, go make it you lousy boy,” at me. If she hadn’t I think I might have had a coronary. I wonder if wizards can have heart attacks? Must make sure I look that up next time I have access to my books.
Uncle Vernon was in a particularly bad mood. I have a feeling it has something to do with me being back at his house for the holidays. He grunted as he read the newspaper and complained that the bacon wasn’t crisp enough. He didn’t look at me, though. He left the house without having looked at me once, actually. The only time he’s been able to do that before was when he locked and bolted me in my room. After breakfast I did the washing up, and the vacuuming and dusting and was given the rest of the morning before lunch to myself.
Unfortunately, I’m not actually allowed to watch the big screen TV like Dudley, or listen to music on any of Dudley’s four CD players. I’m positively forbidden to do any of my schoolwork. I’m also not allowed to be seen lurking about the house, or be holed up in my room for any period of time. That is why I am currently writing to you from the tree in the back garden. After I’d read the newspaper (no news) I went for a walk. I wandered around for a while, wishing I had some money to go see a film or something, but, unfortunately, I only had a galleon and a couple sickles and I’m fairly sure my Wizarding money wouldn’t be accepted at the local Odeon. So I spent a few hours window shopping (checking out the TV news in the electronic stores, but still no news) and basically just wished I was at Hogwarts before I decided to go back in time to make lunch.
I wouldn’t have, ordinarily, but I really couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I figured I might as well occupy myself with something. Aunt Petunia was on the telephone with one of her committees and I quietly made the sandwiches. Three triple-decker ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce, egg and mayonnaise sandwiches for Dudley, two cucumber and salmon sandwiches for Aunt Petunia and a cheese sandwich for myself. Dudley whacked me around the head because I didn’t put enough mayonnaise in his, and Aunt Petunia scowled at me for not having asked her what she wanted. The woman only ever eats salmon and cucumber in her sandwiches. Was she suddenly going to be adventurous and request salmon only? Having eaten my sandwich I did the washing up again and cleared the kitchen down. I asked Aunt Petunia if she wanted the gutters cleaned out or something but she said I should wait until I was asked to do something and not be so presumptuous. I went upstairs, got this diary and here I am in the tree, writing. I feel so restless. I want to be doing something. I want to be with my friends. I want to be at Hogwarts. Hang on… Aunt Petunia is screaming for me. I’ll probably be back later to pour my heart out.