The Wolf in the Tale

I am finally able to sit down long enough to write in my journal again. I was a child for but a week, but the timing had been most unfortunate that I have missed very important deadlines. Very good impression for the university, not showing up for interviews and being late in submitting papers. Not to mention the library, as I have apparently missed much of the inventory keeping.

And my garden. I think it just died on me. I think I popped a vein waking up to the sight.

There is much room for amusement, however, reading through my journal. I wish to extend my thanks to those who were patient enough to humour me while I was running about with short legs. I believe I was well entertained and if memory serves me correctly, everyone have been mostly kind. So, thank you.


[Private to Teddy]

You are back to your old self as well? I hope you are doing well.

( Added after reading through the older entries in his journal )


[Private to Eileen]

Please forgive me for being such an inconvenience. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to call me. I suppose you are done with cleaning up, but I can do other things. Are the flowers doing well? I could tend your garden for a time if you like.


[Private to Severus]

Forgive me for this seemingly unnecessary bit of complaint information, but your bird just ate my garden. Wasn't anybody feeding him while we were children?

( Left on Severus' bed )

( A small doodle drawn on the bottom left corner of the page )

[Charmed visible only to friendly eyes]

A mess on the eve of the new year. This is very promising.

The cottage. I must clean the cottage and -- find something to do for the library. Perhaps the main library would need an extra hand. Hopefully they have year-end clean-ups. There is always comfort in manual labor, if cataloguing books and organising shelves is-- and working is always a good way to begin the year.

No more war poems. It feels like outside the subject I know absolutely nothing. It is my fault, though, for dwelling so much. One would think one fought to be free from it, but it appears I may have had some difficulty letting it go. Realising it now and saying it makes me feel a little foolish.


[Charmed strengthened to a full privacy charm]

I suppose I should have left the conversation the very moment I knew it was Rosier. I had no need of reading about the other atrocities the Death Eaters did beyond the bleeding trails they make the Order clean up. Such talks I can perhaps imagine - expect even - coming from Lestrange, therefore something I know I must avoid, but I barely even knew Rosier. He was just another classmate, later on just another name in Alastor's list of fallen Death Eaters.

The things done to Peter-- they were not surprising, and on the rare occasion I-- I suppose I would call it brooding, on that rare occasion that I thought of him I had assumed he was not in a good place. He must be there with them in fear, and he must not have been treated well. I did not think of things beyond that, however, with the realisation of the mistake I had always believed all those years Sirius was in Azkaban, and it was easy to not to allow room for sympathy. It becomes somehow difficult now. How is it, I wonder, that the moment I forgive Peter it feels like betraying James and Sirius? James for his death, Sirius for all the years he spent incarcerated. I am not in the position to forgive, not if I was not the one wronged.

The horror sank a little bit late and I believe I just displaced my unease upon Severus. How is it that whenever I act on impulse, the man is somehow involved? No wonder he dislikes me so. Perhaps he is right, and it might be good for him to not have me-- lack of word for a harmless irritant, whatever that word might be.

[Private to Severus]

May I ask you something?

I am glad to be able to return to my garden. I am close to coming up with a more regular schedule for the library so I may have time for other things. The university seems to be looking for a dueling instructor, and I remember Albus spoke to me about teaching again. I believe a new endeavour ought to be good for the coming year, and if I am only required a few hours a week (I imagine I shall be able to take care of the written works while watching the library), then it would be an ideal pasttime.

On another note, I was thinking. Has anybody else wondered if there are places elsewhere that also holds the dead? I know that not everyone here holds a journal, but it would seem as if more and more of the journals are being given out. It might only be a matter of time before everyone from the four places accessible to us have them. I believe it has been discussed before that majority of us seem to have come from the Isles. (I do regret not being able to join that particular discussion.) Is it possible that this place is reserved for those coming from or died in the Isles?

If the physical laws of those of the living are followed here, then I doubt that every person who has died can be found here. The Muggles, for instance, are very few, or I do not notice them as much of this world is magical. The possibility of other worlds sounds fascinating, and one begins to wonder how one could go to the world where Merlin now resides. Muggle figures even, perhaps. Alighieri, Hugo, Carroll, Stoker, to name a few.

Christmas was not as bad as I had expected. It sadly passed faster than I would have hoped. I even missed midnight after the eve. Teddy, thank you for staying with me and I really am sorry I kept falling asleep on you. I hope your book was better than mine; it seems Muggle thrillers still put me to sleep at the worst moments. I do hope I did not do anything rude like sleep mid-conversation.

A most heartfelt thank you to everyone who sent me presents. I have never received this many gifts at once. It is a welcome change. I also hope that those to whom I have sent gifts found them satisfying. If not, I apologise.

I hope everyone's Yule went as well as they wished.

(Gifts sent, morning of the 23rd)

( Eileen Snape )

--

( Abraxas Malfoy )

( Gellert Grindelwald )

--

( Severus Snape )

(Gifts sent on the 22nd of December, two days before full)

( Teddy Lupin )

( Sirius Black )

( James Potter )

( Lily Potter )

( Harry Potter )

( Albus Dumbledore )

[Hexed Private]

What am I doing? Suddenly I find myself talking to Riddle and Greyback, and if I were more honest I would say I might be picking fights. I ought to stop. It is not as if anything I say would help, and the less one speaks, the less likely it would be that one would say something that may fuel an unwanted event.

Too much has happened the past few days. Even if I could, I would still rather stay at home and keep quiet. My body hurts more than it should, as if it awaits a transformation still. Perhaps, if my mind were more stable, I could set myself enough to be convinced that there is no transformation forthcoming, and there never shall be. As it is, I can do no more than sit on the sill of my bedroom window and stare out like a maudlin idiot thinking of better days. Still, it is better than being angry, and the sun and the view of the ocean help a little.

I am more prone to anger like this. I do not wish to blame the moon any more than I should, and though it affects me still, I do not wish to give myself any more excuses. I yelled at Peter for Merlin's sake, and if he were the same as he was at that age, I expect he is terrified. Perhaps I should not have yelled. It would only leave him vulnerable to whatever that bastard Riddle is doing, and Peter's privacy charms make it difficult to discern how the other is affecting him.

I do not wish to speak to him any time soon, however.

[/Private]

I might not be well on Christmas Eve and the most parts of Christmas, so I shall be sending my gifts early.

[Private to James and Lily]

Are you all right?

(The following books were sent to their respective addressees with notes included, and are now placed on the most visible tables in their respective homes:)

( To Sirius Black )

---

( To James Potter )

---

( To Narcissia Malfoy )

---

( To Gellert Grindelwald )

Forgive me my sudden absence. I needed some days of silence on my own, and it is perhaps the fruit of years of solitude that I now need days in my own company to cope with... well, things. Forgive that words also seem to fail me at the moment.

I hope I had a better excuse, but I have none.

[Charmed Private to Teddy]

Teddy. Theodore. I am sorry for not acknowledging you until now, but know that I am glad for the opportunity to finally speak to you, with a chance for you to reciprocate. I spoke to you constantly when you were an infant, but that That is, it is not that I expect you to do so, but knowing that you understand what I say, I mean, is nothing short of overwhelming.

What great differences are there, I wonder, between the infant I remember and who you are now? There must be

I would like to hear from you. Only if you wish to speak with me, of course.

[/]

[Charmed Private to all who fought in the side of the Light]

My friends, I believe I can imagine how you are feeling. The ones closest to me especially, as I imagine we are feel much the same way. I do not know if I ought to be thankful that I am already not in the best of moods, else my day be ruined by the memories he evokes.

May I ask who has already spoken to him?

[/]

{The entry is written slowly, as if there is difficult ending sentences.}

Teddy is here.

Perhaps I must address him as Theodore now? Do I even have the right to
I wonder what he thinks of his middle na
He seem to be doing well, though I

It is a wonder how so many thoughts passed through my mind the moment I saw his name, but now it seems as if I cannot grasp them fast enough to write them down. No thought seems to complete itself, always questions I cannot finish or... or some helpless hopes to... I do not even know what I intend to say. To him, or even to myself; I try to write now to organise my thoughts but it all comes out incoherent.

I wonder what he thinks of me. He... he drew a picture and it is a picture of me. I remember it. Why would he I wonder where he found the photograph from which it was renderred. No, that does not matter to me because what matters is that it is me, and why would he... does he not hate me? I wonder what he was told then if he does not... but what if it was drawn in hatred? No, it cannot be, then it would have looked differently if it was.

I was supposed to speak to him, at least write a note that I thought it was lovely. Whatever the intent. Even if it was drawn with no deep thought, perhaps merely as a casual, random gesture. Even them, at least I know he thinks of me. Faced with the prospect of speaking to him, however, I found that I have no words to say. Or perhaps I have too many words to say that I cannot decide what to write? Should I tell him I thought it lovely? I ought not lie and pretend I do not know him, nor must I lie and pretend I do not recognise whose face it was he put on paper. In the end, I couldn't, and it might have been fortunate that at least I did not spill ink on the page. He might see, then we might have to speak then. Not that such a possibility is so horrible, but...

I am a coward. This only proves it. I should...

What if he finds me lacking?

It took a while, but I was able to have a small extension of the city library here in the village. It is not the bookshop I initially imagined, but I believe I like this better. Being surrounded by books had been my strange childhood fantasy - James and Sirius, hush - and, as far as compensation is concerned, there isn't anything I particularly wish to have at the moment. I seem to have an infinite supply of food items and tea - basic necessities seem to be easily acquired here - so I am as well as I could ever be.

Forgive me if it is quite a biased collection. A lot of books on the shelves are novels and poetry books (Muggle and Wizard, I find them both appealing), but there are also several books on Charms and Herbology, a few texts on the Dark Arts, plus a few Muggle sciences. If there is any book in particular that you like and you do not mind waiting a day, I have access to the library in my backroom. I can easily look it up for you.

Well. That is all, I think.

I spent much of the last two days in bed and considering the time, it was a peculiar experience indeed. I may not have thought it a blessing then, but I remember seeing the full moon. I have missed far too much in life it would seem, but I am glad for this, though I do not fully understand it.

[Private to Severus Snape]

I did not change-- Well, of course it is easy enough to surmise for you being who are--

I did not change.

[/private]

[Private to Harry Potter]

Harry, thank you for the concern you have shown me earlier. It would seem that this world has more surprises for me and while I could have spent much of the last few days better than I had, there is more to be thankful about than there is room to complain.

[/private]

[Private to Sirius Black]

My friend, it has been a while since our last correspondence. Would you terribly mind having a visitor one of these days?

I do hope this works.

[Charmed Private to Severus Snape]

Severus, may I have a moment? I'm afraid it's quite important.

I am thinking of opening a small bookshop here in the village. It is something I thought about during my walk, as I noticed that the village is lined mostly with pubs and what looked to me like shops for gardening tools. I am aware that there is a library in the City, but I have always preferred the smaller, warmer feel of village shops. It would be a smaller collection, perhaps mostly featuring novels.

Would anybody know how I might begin?

[charmed private to self]

How...

If that man is here then this is not heaven at all.

[/private]

I'm afraid I do not understand this place as well as I initially thought. An interesting variety of inhabitants, but after a few encounters I realise it is not as perfect as tired a man might hope. I find comfort, at least, in the thought that I may choose with whom I am to associate myself.

In an attempt to ease my mind of its present worries, I have begun what hopefully would become a small nursery of herbs. I discovered a few flowering seeds in my collection as well. The soil here feels pleasant and well nourished. Fascinating.

It took me a while to come to terms with my surroundings. Waking up alone was a strange change; it has been a while since I found myself in solitude such as this.

I discovered that the house is pleasantly littered with a number of my favourite things: earl grey and orange pekoe with tea things that actually match, apples on a basket in the small sitting room, tiny pieces of chocolate in every room. I also seem to have been given a small lawn and several pots and seeds.

I found this blank journal on the bedside table. I do hope I am not jumping to conclusions when I assume that this space is mine. I am aware of dying, and if at this moment I am moving, I can only conclude that I am in the afterlife.