According to the calendar, it's been exactly a month since that night; I've been back for just over two weeks.

Sometimes it already seems longer than that — a protective mechanism, I think. It's the way our brains are wired, isn't it, to revert to a "normal" state as soon as circumstances allow. School's started once more, and those are definitely normal circumstances. In the classroom, and usually when among friends: I'm me again. Or close enough to her that the difference is immaterial.

( Just as well, really.Collapse )

We find out if there's to be a child on Monday.

They are nearly 100 percent confident that there isn't. But with the inhuman magic involved and the species of the father in question, extra tests were necessary ... and ( I think I'm going to be sick again.Collapse )

It's been nearly a month, and I've not written anything about it.

I haven't been completely ducking the issue: for a while it hurt to hold a quill, even with Poppy's medication, and lately I've been very busy with other things — one of which I'll hold my maidenly (cowardly?) silence on for a bit yet, the other being the reason I'm here at Hogwarts and not snooping in some back-alley London bookstore.
( Don't snicker at the 'maidenly' bit, Diary. It doesn't inspire one to confide in you.Collapse )

Memorial service today. As expected, I didn't pay much attention during the service. No, I was too busy still wondering what would have happened last month had I gone diving behind that bush to grab an ear, instead of Roger conjuring fake fire.

Selfish and contemptible of me.

Still, if you can't confess your unlovely thoughts in your diary, where can you?

Afterward, I dabbed at my eyes with a handkerchief a time or two, patted the students on their shoulders and was hoping to call it good until I could get back here and let go.

Maria's mother then took me aside, wanting to know why we hadn't drawn up charts for each of the students so we'd have known ... what was going to happen.

How do you explain to a grieving parent that it doesn't work that easily? My usual spiel, Schrödinger's cat and all — so very inappropriate that I couldn't even begin.

Even now, I can't remember what I said.

I wish, sometimes, that I were different. Easy with people, comforting. But no, put me in that situation and all you get are stares as I stand there, silent and tongue-tied, unable to think of anything to say other than the tired platitudes that do no one any good.

Mrs. Rufford deserved better.

There comes a point where neither Invigoration Draught nor caffeine can make up for a lack of sleep.

The dark circles under Vera's eyes testified to that truth.

I'm becoming a crone, look at me. ... Perhaps I should have asked Bill for help. But he has his work, too. And besides ... no. Everything worked out. Things will be fine. She nodded at her reflection in the mirror.

Convinced that the only way they be able to discover what they were dealing with would be through monitoring and acquiring more data — the thing hadn't slipped up yet, so waiting for a serendipitous mistake on its part would be foolish — Vector had dedicated every available moment to making preparations.

She had set up a detection spell around the area of Hogsmeade that had shown the most activity. When another attack happened, they would know something more about the effect of the magic involved.

The spell would have taken days of work even if she didn't have teaching duties to attend to, but by cutting out unnecessaries such as socializing and semi-necessities such as more than three hours of sleep ... it was done.

The all-consuming attention required had also made making any further decision about using the chart that still waited for her on a side table impossible.

A tiny part of her was grateful for that.

Vera picked up a sheaf of parchments. Now all she could do was wait; in the meantime there was homework to grade.

Professor Vector spread the parchment on her desk. It was unblemished goatskin, large and finely made, well-suited to the task she would put to it.

She retrieved the Trismegistum Chrism from its shelf, broke the seal and began to anoint the parchment.

Ideally, of course, the chart would have been prepared since last week, but teaching had been taking an unusual amount of time lately. The instructors who had taken over the Arithmancy classes for the younger students while she had split her time between Hogwarts and the Ministry had done their best, and the present upperclassmen were well-versed in technique, but their background in theory was shockingly light.

That had had to be remedied.

Add to that some tutoring for a Hufflepuff second-year who had demonstrated quite an extraordinary grasp of numerology — but unfortunately had little confidence in his abilities — and, well, time for tracking down fugitive ex-lovers was hard to find.
( Read more ...Collapse )

That was ... not so bad, actually. All the usual crowd back together, wahey.

Of course it helped that with so many more ... notable ... wizards there, my own presence was quite unremarkable. Just another face at the head table, smiling and listening politely to the chit-chat. How has the Ministry managed to keep what happened under wraps? I'm pleased, certainly, but gossip is one of the failings of bureaucracy. I suppose there are much more interesting things afoot to talk about. Good.

And I was worried. How conceited of me ... if everyone who had some inadvertent part in what happened had stayed away, attendance would've been sparse indeed, and that would never do.

As it is, I stayed for a respectable amount of time before heading up here for some wine and some peace. I can hear the music still.

Judging some of the shapes and sounds at the more shadowed tables -- where apparently the alcohol had been flowing. Courage! -- there will be some interesting stories available tomorrow. Excellent.

And the end of another school year approaches. The students have outdone themselves in attempting to drive all their instructors barmy; one can tell the wizarding world is basically back to "normal."

Most of them will have forgotten by July anything beyond how to square a circle, of course, but there's the usual few who could go on to the ever-hoped-for Great Things.

Soon to summer, which will be the final stretch in restoring Hogwarts. I'm not the one to ask whether it was worth the cost, but what we've accomplished in the past few years is something to take pride in; I think even the four founders, and, more personally, Dumbledore, would be pleased.

.

Must remember to mention that idea about the arrangement of obelisks near the Quidditch field to McG ... it should be quite effective.

..


I've begun thinking about what to do when this is done. Ministry work over, Hogwarts secure ... only one thing left to repair, and that's the most difficult. Magic is utterly rational; humans, myself much included, are not.

Mh. They're right; what I need more than anything is a holiday. And some vigorous sha No time to spare at the mo, but perhaps somewhere tropical over winter break? Lay in some plans.

My mother, Merlin love her, is as persistant as a nogtail. I'm the only one of her children without spouse and children, and she feels my failings deeply. One more sigh out of her and I'll just run right out and bring back the first Muggle I find and proclaim him -- or her, I don't care! -- as my One True Love and announce the engagement. I can Obliviate come January when everyone, including myself, is more rational. Bless.

Well now.

Other than that slight annoyance, the holidays have gone quite well; it's been good to see the nieces and nephews again, particularly. Everyone's been well-trained as to gifts for me, so I've got lots of lovely gift certs to bookstores to use. Everyone except Samantha, of course, who got me some kitchen gadget. I've explained that I 1. do not cook, either by magical or Muggle means; 2. do not have a kitchenette in my quarters in any event, and 3. DO NOT COOK, but still she persists. I quite like food; I feel bad about what I do to it when I attempt to cook. ... Obviously she's related to mother.

Hmm. Suppose Mr. Weasley'd be interested in a nonstick grill-thing?

Still no reliable death count from Hogsmeade. ... Everyone is wondering how the wards that should have protected the area fell so spectacularly. Hordes of Inferi.

Compared to that, what happened to Hogwarts almost seems unimportant -- but of course it is not. How many years did it stand inviolate?

Well done, Vera. Good show. ... Happy birthday.

Tomorrow I contact the Ministry.