Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: Triquetra :: 00 :: Prologue

00 • Prologue

I suppose it shouldn’t be a shock, though it was. Things were already bad enough with Sirius having died like that. I prefer to think that if things had been different, I’d have been able to live with him. At the very least, spend more time with him. I have to wonder if it would have been allowed. I guess that’s beside the point.

Things were also already bad enough with the number of attacks that happened during the year, not to mention the number of deaths. Voldemort has been fairly active, though I have to wonder at times just what it is he hopes to accomplish. Is it possible for a madman to . . . I don’t know . . . know when to stop? Actually have a goal he can satisfy?

I also wonder just what he plans to do with the half-bloods in his service. I mean, assuming he did “win” this supposed war, what then? Apparently, being a half-blood isn’t such a bad thing so long as you profess to follow Voldemort. Otherwise, how could it be possible that people like Malfoy seem to look up to people like Snape?

Of course, the only reason I know of that little fact is because of some books I stumbled over. I wonder how many other people know that his father was a muggle. In that respect, he’s actually “less” than me. How very droll.

At any rate, it shouldn’t be a shock, though it is. I shouldn’t have been surprised, after all I went through fifth year, with what Voldemort managed to do this year. Obviously, the man is able to be subtle when he wishes. Despite the fact that his Death Eaters were out there in droves, causing untold destruction and killing who knows how many people, he still found the time to be subtle.

Maybe he came up with the idea because of that basilisk. Was it really able to smell the difference? Detect purity of blood? I have no idea. I realize I sound curiously calm as I write this. Perhaps I’m still trying to understand how it is that I’m alive when so many others are dead. I had heard that poison could kill quickly, but I’m not sure I realized it could be that quick.

I’m not even sure why I declined to go down that weekend. I just didn’t feel up to it, I guess. We’d been working so hard, I know, but all I really wanted to do was sleep, not trudge around Hogsmeade browsing through stuff I had no particular reason or desire to buy. Butterbeer would have been nice, but they did promise to bring some back.

I could wonder why he did it at all, but then I think back to everything people like to say about Salazar Slytherin, and then it makes some sort of twisted sense. That in turn makes me wonder just how much of what we think we know of as the truth really is.

So, all right. They’re dead. There, I’ve said it. Written it. Voldemort must have spent a lot of time chatting up snakes to manage this one. I’m not even sure how many were bitten, though I can say the halls here seem to echo now and lack life.

Colin won’t be taking any more pictures. Dennis won’t be swimming in the lake with the giant squid, either. And that’s just two from Gryffindor. About the only house that wasn’t affected was Slytherin. I’m sure that was no surprise to anyone.

It occurs to me that I might be giving the wrong impression. While Ron and Hermione might not be at Hogwarts, it’s not like they’re dead or anything. Still, being at St. Mungo’s all this time must be quite a trial. I was assured repeatedly that they can fix the muscle paralysis given some time. Why Hermione was carrying around bezoar stones. . . . Well, at least they helped a bit, even if not entirely.

Maybe that’s what did it. Sirius, all those attacks, and finally, that Hogsmeade weekend. They tell me it’s psychological, why I’ve not said a word since then. They tell me it’s just my way of coping, though how that makes any sense. . . . Trauma, they say. I’ve managed to slog my way through everything else without going mute, so why this?

I honestly have to wonder if Hermione’s parents will try to prevent her from coming back next year. I assume she’ll be all right by the end of the summer. Well, I also assume no one would raise a fuss over her having missed the year end exams, either, nor for Ron.

Unfortunately, I have no choice but to go back to the Dursleys. Supposedly the headmaster is going to be speaking with them about my little problem. I guess we’ll see how that goes. Perhaps if I’m lucky Remus will be able to visit. If not, I suppose I’ll simply have to suffer in silence.