Disclaimer: Is not mine, despite all wishes to contrary. Also is heavily influenced by Bridget Jones’ diary by Helen Fielding.

Sunday 14 July

Overachieving sisters 2, minutes spent comparing self to said sisters 57 (although broken up over course of morning), cigarettes 4 (v. good due to N.E.W.T. stress), alcohol units 8 (but don’t count as pre-results stress reliever)

Today I will:
Feel accomplished in self, am Louis Weasley, not Victoire or Dominique.
Invent Hangover Cure, as what use magic if cannot fix hangover?
Throw cigarettes out, begin process of quitting.
Be cool, calm and collected in manner of Harry Potter or similar.
Find inner peace, Buddha, Merlin and etc would not be fazed by N.E.W.T.s
Open N.E.W.T. results on receiving them, as have nothing to fear.

10 am, Tinworth: Shell Cottage. Ugh. Wish wasn’t sitting in bed writing in diary. Is not dignified for 18-old-male to write in diary. Sure Harry Potter did not own diary. Hate hangover. Evil creation. Stupid N.E.W.T.s. Bound to disappoint family, will end up living in gutter in Brixton. Mmmm cigarettes. Love Wizarding version as taste minty, not tar.

I really do need to quit smoking. Despite protestations from mates, accompanied by peer pressure along the lines of, “You want one? Oh wait…you don’t smoke, do you…” Apparently the girls like it as well, something to do with that whole ‘bad boy’ thing. Unfortunately enough, the girls go for aforementioned ‘bad boys’ then come crying to me when said boy turns out to be, in fact, bad. What’s a boy to do?

I fell out of bed, the jarring shock reverberating through my head. I remained in a starfish position on the floor for a minute, contemplating the finer things in life. A clear head was quite high on the list.
Clambering to my feet, I stumbled, eyes widening in an attempt to stave off the dizziness. Ignoring the blurriness, I opened the door and staggered down the corridor into the warm kitchen. Slumping across the table, I swiped the pot of coffee and the newspaper. A hangover was still no excuse for not keeping up with the world.

Just as I was beginning to feel a bit better about myself, Maman decided it might be nice to start discussing results. Unfortunately, she’s far smarter than I am and was so able to lure me into the conversation.

“'ave a nice night, Louis?”

“Yep, did, very nice. Ask Domi, she was there too.”

“Did you have a nice night, love?”

She muttered something so utterly incoherent even Maman spared her the interrogation.

“Where were you again?”

“Just at Tom’s, last chance of freedom before…you know.”

“Lots of people zere?”

“Yeah, a lot of school people. Domi showed up with a few of her mates, ended up quite big. Don’t even know why she was there in the first place.”

Could feel the coffee flowing through the blood stream, feeling better already. And then struck by killer blow.

“Ready for your results?”

Crashing wave of dread hit me with force of tsunami. Compounded by Dominique smirking at me across the table. Easy for her with her Os and Es. Stupid smart family. Think poise, inner-peace.

“Ah. Actually,” I panicked. “I mean, what do N.E.W.T.s really matter anyway? Not as though they define your future career prospects or anything. ’Sides, politics is all about connections, who you know and all that.”

“Oh ees that so?”

“Yes!” I invented wildly. “Look at Dominique! Into that Auror Minister guy’s staff straight out of school!”

“Dominique ’ad four Os and one E,” came the icy reply. “Victoire 'ad three and two.”

I chose not to respond to that particular statement and instead buried myself in the paper. Some idiot at Portsmouth had been caught using Felix Felicis in a match. Seemingly he was unhappy about losing all the time and decided to give himself a bit of a boost. Utter clown.

“I’m going to my room.”

“You will stay right ’ere and wait for ze owl.”

“I’ll be in my room,” I muttered before turning and fleeing, paper in hand.

So I returned to my room where I crawled into bed and submerged myself in the subterranean gloom.

Barely a minute had passed in the blessed dark when a strident voice called out, “Louis, your letter ’as arrived.”

“I don’t want to see it!”

It appeared pressure made me revert to petulant four-year-old state of being.

“Don’t make me come in zere!”

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Maman always got her way.

There, sitting on the kitchen table, was one of the schools big barn owls, letter still tied to its leg. It was engaged in what appeared to be a staring match with Dominique, although judging by the glazed look in her eyes, I wasn’t quite sure she was all there.

“Bill!” she called. “Louis’ letter is ’ere!”

“Right, I’ll be there in a minute,” came the call down the stairs.

It seemed rather unfair to me that I should be forced to open future-defining letter in front of parents, half of pair of overachieving sisters, all while curing acidic hangover. Think I will write to Hogwarts about timing of letter issuing. Even though it won’t affect me, I’ll be doing future generations a favour.
I reached over to the owl, which hopped away from me. It’s never an encouraging sign when you repulse even wildlife.

“Come here, you stupid thing.”

Giving me The Look, it hopped back and extended its leg in a dignified hauteur, waiting for me to untie the letter. As I reached out, I noticed my hands were trembling. While it may or may not be a by-product of hangover, it was not a good situation to be in.
Father emerged from stairs, looks rather wild with scars and insane red hair. Like caveman, except banker.

“Alright, Louis, time to do it, mate.”

“I am,” I snapped at the nosy and interfering paternal figure.

Finally untied stupid envelope. Owl flew off in a huff. Very angry bird, don’t know what am supposed to have done to it.

I slit the envelope open to discover a folded piece of parchment. Hogwarts seemingly has a flair for the dramatic.


                   Pass Grades: Outstanding (O)                               Fail Grades: Poor (P)
                                       Exceeds Expectations (E)                                 Dreadful (D)
                                       Acceptable (A)                                                   Troll (T)


Charms: A
Defence Against the Darks Arts: O
History of Magic: O
Muggle Studies: E
Transfiguration: E

A wave (tsunami?) swept over self again (relief, obviously, not dread as before.) Two Os, two Es and an A. Totally acceptable score, very acceptable actually. Even Dominique-bloody-Weasley the Legendary only got four Os. Victoire, too, only got three. I snapped out of my reverie to see expectant faces looking at self. All rather hesitant. Clearly they lacked faith in my abilities. Although, to be fair, I didn’t have much faith in myself until I’d seen the results.


“Fine. I did fine.” Could hear the relief flowing out of my mouth. Lovely feeling actually.

“Can we see?”

“Yeah, sure, sure, anything.”

I pushed the envelope and watched the three pairs of eyes jump all over the parchment with unseemly haste.

Three delighted grins suddenly beamed at me. Mother ran round table and enveloped me in massive hug, father extricated me then did the same. Domi (due no doubt to own hangover) said nothing but gave quick wink.

1 pm, Devon, Potter House (Mansion). Family really is brilliant. All Apparated to large (gigantic) house (mansion) of Harry (Potter), where met by members of Potter-Weasley clan.

Quickly transpired Lily had done perfectly adequately as had Roxanne and Fred. Little Lucy dominated her OWLs which naturally lead to a minor scuffle between Hermione and Percy over comparative children while Audrey and Ron laughed on sidelines. While being congratulated by Teddy, Charlie popped by and slipped a tiny bottle of Firewhiskey into my pocket.

“Just give it a tap and it’ll pop back to its proper size,” he muttered under his breath, casting suspicious looks around self as though Death Eater or person of similarly dubious character.

“Alrigh’, Louis?” roared a male voice from behind me. Eurgh. Brian. The on-off boyfriend of Dominique. Would be having words to her about him. Fortunately she already seemed quite tired of him.

“How’s the love-life then? Getting any?”

Why does my sister attract such idiots? Seriously, it’s completely unbelievable. One after the other after the other. I suddenly felt a calm wash over me. Imagine it was rather similar to how Merlin, Dumbledore and other great wizards of type felt. I’m sure it came from the results. Brilliant idea, results, whoever came up with the idea is to be commended.

“Domi!” I called out in a very assertive voice. “Kindly remove this clown from your life.”

“Who?” she turned around in tone of surprise. “Oh, Brian? Any particular reason?”

“He’s annoying. And I don’t like him.”

“Fair enough then. Bugger off, Brian, don’t need you anymore.”

Love Domi. Love her on own side anyway. She’s quite scary. Occasional moments of radical feminism (“Men are only good for reproduction!” etc.) aside, we get along quite well.

“Don’t want to,” retorted Brian. Oh dear.

“She told you to leave,” hissed Victoire.

Poor Brian. Victoire is also scary. I think she must have got most of the Veela genes, very tall, very blonde. She was wearing these super tall heels as well, complete with red soles for some reason.

Brian appeared to be about to say something, then took another look at Victoire and Domi and swiftly changed his mind. I almost felt sorry for him in that moment, except not really.

The party continued on well into the night. Charlie and Harry joined Domi, Roxanne and self in inspecting the Firewhiskey, ensuring product standards is a very important thing after all. There were no fights, no arguments, just a lot of very happy people. And the best thing, people were happy for me. Happy for me, as me.

2.55 am. Blurry good night. Ow, fell over. Bed warm. Love world.

A/N: So this is the end. Did you like? If yes, do skip on over and check out the spin-off: Monday, Monday. Reviews and the like are always welcomed in the extreme =]

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