The Other Potter Book Three.

Chapter One

I sang loudly as I walked down the street of Diagon alley.

"I really like to dance around the streets of Diagon alley! I am absolutely bored out of my mind! I really think I'm going crazy! But you know I don't really care!"

I got a few weird glances, but apart from that no one bothered me.

Three weeks into the holidays, and I was bored to the point that I actually had logical thoughts.

Freaking weird.

I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my temporary bed in my temporary room in the leaky cauldron. It was a bit of a hovel, but it beats spending summer with Snape.

The room was fairly drab and paint was peeling off the walls. It had a bed, a dresser, a mirror, a chair and table.

I had bought a new diary, and had jotted down my thoughts.

Diary Entry One:

Hey Willow,

I decided this year, instead of writing these as an entry, I'm gonna write them as like a message to the future.

Anyway, you're going to die your hair to golden brown to escape the person that you have been. This will help you feel less attached to your father, because just...eww...

You're also going to stop trying to find out the mystery to do with where you came from. Say like, how you kept trying to figure out if you are related to Harry.

You're totally done with mysteries; the chamber of secrets ruined that for you.

I'm feeling like a total douche writing a letter to myself...

Okay, Wil, keep this, and do what it says.

Just, just don't write another one because it's stupid.

P.S. Change your last name.

-Willow from the past.

"So," I said walking over to the mirror. "Step one accomplished. I have died my hair."

I looked at the golden locks that fell over my shoulders. It looked awesome with my green eyes.

"Step two." I said to myself. "Stuff mysteries, I'm over it."

Okay. That was easy.

"Step three. Which was actually step two, but I'm retarded. Lucius Malfoy is not my father. Lucius Malfoy is not my father. LUCIUS MALFOY IS NOT MY FATHER!"

That feels good! Yay!

"And now, I need to do my homework." I added sadly.

I looked down at my textbook, which was open from the other fifteen times I had attempted to do my work, and read:

Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it-

I slammed the textbook shut and pitched it at the wall. Oh screw it; I don't wanna do the work anyway.

"AHHHH!" I screamed in frustration. I hyperventilated a bit, and then calmed down. What the hell? I'm hyperventilating? More like just hyper!

I spent five minutes hopping around my room for the hell of it before I fell into the desk chair.

I sighed as I looked at all of the open books, all of the half-finished essays and the pile that I hadn't even started on. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was from Snape. I decided to tackle that first to avoid getting a detention. I reckon that he would go to any extremes to give me a detention.