Another Day

Yesterday was good to me Reader, one of those days when you go to bed tired. I have very few of those in fifth year, come to think of it and it's not a good thing. It was a normal sort of day, I didn't do anything very much out of the ordinary and no particular moment stood out. It was one out of hundreds of other days, passed by and soon forgotten. But I must've done something right, because I went to bed not guilty or uneasy, but contentedly and I slept dreamlessly.