Hogsmeade weekend, so too knackered to write much tonight. I had a lovely day, but did not get to dwell on it much on the walk to and from the village, for on the way there Professor Podmore was giving everyone a lecture about some misdemeanours people were caught for last time (I'm glad no teachers discovered me the time I drank someone else's order of red currant rum at the Three Broomsticks, I was rather a giggly mess after that. It was an accident, at least. Well, the first sip was an accident) ... Anyway, then on the way back I found myself wedged beside my elder housemate Mr. Warbeck, who is perfectly friendly, but waxing poetic about his new quidditch gloves for half an hour is hardly thrilling. They're hideous, too. I'm not sure who he's trying to impress. I'm sure the Tutshill Tornadoes would never take him.

I'm yawning again just thinking about it - goodnight.

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