Hello, readers! I actually have a series of pictures drawn (by moi) for this fic. I'll try and upload them onto ArtisticAlley somehow. Argh, have to finish them first. Anyway, when I manage it, I'll leave a link.

Disclaimer: Am I J.K Rowling? No. THEN HOW THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT ME TO OWN HARRY POTTER, YOU MORONIC LAWYERS! I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION! YOUR MOTHER WAS A HAMSTER, AND YOUR FATHER SMELT OF ELDERBERRIES! (ahem. Got carried away by Monty Python addiction there)

Anyway. The Saga of the Scarf. It can be taken as a prequel to my other G/A, F/A, K/L fic, Blood Ties. But the one difference is, well, this one's aiming to be funny. While Blood Ties has it's amusing moments, it's definitely more serious than this one. With no further ado, here's Chapter One!

Entry One. Because I don't do dates. Maybe I'll consider it one day. Grr.

Ahem. Just so you know, I'm only writing in the diary to suit Katie, one of my two best friends in the universe. She gave us, 'us' being myself and my other best friend, Angelina, these diaries once we'd thrown out some second year Hufflepuffs in order to get this compartment to ourselves.

She said she'd taken up diary keeping that summer on advice from her older sister Eliza, who said it was very therapeutic and character building.

Have I ever mentioned how ditzy Eliza is?

Obviously not.

Anyway, Katie had been made to promise to keep writing in said diary by said older sister, and, in order to share her torture with us, she provided us with sparkling new diaries as well.

Damn Katie and her hare-brained schemes.

So here I am, writing in this diary, while the train rolls on, BA BA BOOM, BA BA BOOM, TOOOOOOOOOOOOT.

That was me, trying to do a (failed) impersonation of the train. Katie's in the seat next to me, frantically scribbling away in her diary something looking suspiciously like 'I love Lee Jordan.' Angelina's opposite, having diligently written her name in her own diary, and is now reading the latest issue of TeenWitch.

(pause)

Sorry, got distracted. I was writing, as is probably obvious to even the greatest moron on the planet, when who should walk by?

Misters Hunksters/Pranksters-In-Chief, Fred and George Weasley.

I think I speak for every female in the world when I say oo-er.

I mean, how could anyone resist them? Sigh. Can you imagine my reaction on my first day of school ever when I realised that the most gorgeous guy in our year was, in fact, duplicated? Of course, now that I know them so well, I can notice differences between the two, but still, when it comes to eye-candy, wow.

Why am I sounding all ditzy all of a sudden?

Will end entry here, before brain truly gets kicked in to 'stupid' mode.

A.N: Okay, the next chapter's where the action picks up! The meaning of the (admittedly strange) title will become clear as the fic moves on. Until the next chapter, au revoir, mes amis!