Dear Journal, apparently Potter wasn't the only one to have seen me striding back to the castle in my less than impressive cloak on Saturday. Today I sat down at the head table for breakfast and found myself the center of several stares and snickers amongst my colleagues. I ignored them until I spied a folded copy of the Prophet next to Minerva's plate. At her continued laughter (which was now drawing the attention of the students), I snatched up the paper and found myself on the back page walking away from the camera, my robes flapping in the breeze, rips, cuts, holes and all. I may as well have been naked. No one, NO ONE is supposed to see my arse even in trousers. That is what my robes are for, to protect my body from the ravaging stares of admiring women, students and staff alike. Now the whole of Britain has seen it. I won't be able to go out in public anymore. The curses of being me.

Wednesday October 2nd

Journal, it has happened. My worst nightmare. I caught several female students staring at my backside today during classes as I wrote on the board. Apparently what has been seen cannot be unseen though I now have new and thicker robes. I cannot unhide my nakedness. How degrading, to be looked at only for my body and not my mind.

Friday October 4th

Dear journal, I awoke with a most frightening nightmare tonight. In my dream, the students all liked me, even the Potter whelp. Whenever I walked through the halls, they would chant, "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape." I am so distressed I do not believe I will be able to sleep again tonight.

Friday October 5th

The dreams have only intensified. Tonight Potter stood in my classroom and chanted with a grin, "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape.... DUMBLEDORE." What does it mean? The brat must have enchanted me somehow... slipped something into my meal in the Great Hall. He will pay!

Sunday October 7th

Dear Journal, I am perplexed. I received a letter by owl today at breakfast. It came in a red envelope and I wondered at first whom I had received a howler from. It was not a howler though, it was a love letter. A letter from some woman. She said this day was her birthday and wondered if I could please send her a piece of my ripped robes and sign them as a gift to her. I caught Minerva reading the letter over my shoulder. She laughed so hard I thought the old bird would have a stroke. I strode out of the hall in a dignified manner, but later she accused me of running away like an embarrassed school girl. The nerve.

Wednesday October 10th

Dear Journal, blast the Headmaster and his sordid ideas. For some reason he seemed to think that the students needed a boost in morale, some dribble about the escaped madman black on the loose in Gryffindor tower. He came up with an idea for a drawing. The student who won the most points for their house by today was to draw a Professor's name out of the Sorting Hat. That Professor would then have to carry their books around for the day. Oh yes, it's all fun and games until Harry Potter Brat-Who-Lived wins and pulls your name from the hat. I think the bloody hat and Dumbledore are in league together. The boy didn't seem to relish the thought of me carrying his school things from class to class for him any more than I did. He stayed quiet, though the Weasley Twins took to following us around in the halls, and do you know what they chanted? "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape." They must be part of this as well. I gave Potter detention just because I felt like it. He continued re-pickling the rodent.

Monday October 15th

Dear Journal, I do not know how so many ill-mannered dunderheads are able to get into this once prestigious academy. They will not stop staring at my backside, and in classes I have had to resort to standing with my back to the blackboard and trying to write sideways so they have nothing to look at. They are most certainly plotting something sinister. I catch them whispering my name and when I pass by or turn to look at them, they cease their plotting. I must investigate further.

Dear Journal, I know now for a fact that the children are conspiring against me, and possibly Minerva as well. I caught several students staring at me as I passed them in the halls today, and shortly after breakfast I noticed that many students were wearing a badge on their chests. Upon closer investigation, I realized that the badges bore my face and the initials SSFC. I do not know what this means, but the Weasley twins have now been given detention tonight for following me around and chanting, 'Snape, Snape, Severus Snape!' I believe they along with Potter are responsible for this, and I WILL find out what is going on!

Tuesday October 23rd

Journal! I have discovered something truly disturbing! It is as if all the pupils have been enchanted with fairy love dust or some sort of lurid love potion! Upon astute investigation it has been revealed that SSFC stands for the Severus Snape Fan Club! What cruel and unusual magic is this? As if it were not bad enough that the students all appear to have joined this club (even Harry Potter is sporting one of the badges on his person), I have started receiving fan mail from women across the country asking if they too can join the club and where they can buy memorobilia! Minerva had the audacity to ask me at lunch if she could have my autograph, and proceeded to laugh all the way down the corridor when I gave her one! I must find a way to put an end to this!

Monday October 29th

Dear Journal. I have been losing sleep. I have bags under my eyes from losing sleep, and students around the castle have taken to using makeup to imitate 'the Severus' look under their eyes as well. This has been a truly horrendus day. On my way to breakfast a bold third year Ravenclaw girl named Pricilla Perkins snuck up behind me, reached up, and pulled a single hair out of my head. I felt a prick and turned around to see what had happened and caught the audacious little monster red handed! Instead of looking frightened, she turned and ran back to a group of her friends screaming, 'I got one! I own a piece of Severus Snape!' I would have hexed her to get the hair back, but everyone in the Entrance Hall was staring and I didn't want them to get any ideas about doing the same. If my morning had not been bad enough, my afternoon was worse. I was late for class and was hurrying to the Dungeons when suddenly something tugged on my trailing cloak from behind. I spun around to find Potter, looking horified as one of his grimy feet had stepped on my cloak! Being harassed as I had been earlier in the day by third year girls, I yanked my cloak out from under him, sending him sprawling backwards to the corridor floor, and shouted, 'YOU MAY NOT HAVE ONE OF MY HAIRS!' ... at the brat's startled look I realized that he had only stepped on my cloak by accident as he stared up at me from the floor. Minerva had witnessed the whole incident, and I had to storm away (with dignity) from the horrid old cat who was doubled over in a fit of laughter.

Wednesday October 31st

The only good thing about this day is that it marks the end of a truly terrible month. Today is Halloween. I do not enjoy this so called holiday and I have no desire to celebrate it in any way. I have no fondess for sweets, nor tolerance for silly children running around in customes pretending to be monsters and fairies. I hate Oct 31. And I am entirely unamused by the increase in pranks around this time of year...they seem to get bolder and bolder every year. I would say that the worst part about today was the costume contest, where no less than thirty students (and Professor Treylawney) all dressed up as me (the audacity of the twins, dressing up as me as Longbottom's version of a Boggart, green dress and all), but the worst thing of all about this atrocious day is that this was the night Lily died. It does not deserve to be celebrated by candy, feasts, and costumes, and I am forced, like every member of the staff, to sit through it all. Some students also dressed up as Harry Potter (the castle's other celebrity). Perhaps my only consolation this day is that Potter seemed down as well, though I do not know how much of a consolation it is knowing that he is probably uninterested in celebrating this day for the same reason I am.