Dear Diary,

Today the orange one accidentally drank one of my more expensive elixirs. He promptly vomited a glittering rainbow of foul waste. The classroom erupted with applause, triggering my migraine. I aborted the class and was left to clean the boy's sick. Halfway through, Argus Filch showed up and bragged about his many affairs with Hogsmeade barmaids. Then he told me I smelled of broccoli and left without wishing me a Happy Birthday. Later, I noticed my bottle of Sangria was gone. I settled for a cup of coffee, scalding my writing hand in the process, and spilling it on my pants. I walked to the hospital wing, covering the wet spot with a book. Madam Pomfrey laughed at me and made me wait while she treated a student's runny nose. After an hour, it became apparent that she had forgotten about me so I returned to my room and found that I'd locked myself out. I called for Filch, who turned up covered in lipstick and clearly having finished the Sangria. He broke open my door, laughed at me, punched me in the shoulder too hard, and left me alone. I thought of my father. I cried.