The Beginning of the End

I have decided that I much prefer broomsticks to aeroplanes. They allow less time to think.

I don't think Ron likes aeroplanes either. He's sitting bolt upright next to me, shade drawn over the window, gripping the armrests for dear life. Neither one of us can figure out how it is that Hermione is able to sleep. Of course, she's flown before. She's sleeping peacefully on my left, next to the aisle. Ron is on the right, where Hermione considerately let him sit. She said that since he was my best friend, and people like that are referred to as "right-hand men" he should sit on my right. She neglected to mention that on the right, he would be right next to the window. Maybe she figured that after the car, the aeroplane would be no sweat. I think this winged contraption is more than a touch faster and several thousand miles higher than Mr. Weasley's old Ford Anglia ever went, even at the peak of its career as a car.

There are way too many things to think about, and way too much time to think about them. Dumbledore got us a night flight, one where we wouldn't have to risk being spotted by Death Eaters in the daylight. If any of them knew we were leaving the country, we would be dead before our next birthdays. Great, I did it again. I keep focusing on the negative instead of the positive. I must be positive. No Death Eaters saw us. We're perfectly safe--for now. Rrrgh! I did it again! Like I said, I have way too much time to think.

I guess I never thought about it before, but the reason I'm so negative is simply because I'm scared. I'm scared to fight against Voldemort, and I'm scared of what will happen if I don't. I'm scared of what lies ahead of me on this flight, and I'm scared of what I left behind. I'm scared that I'm walking into a Death Eater's trap, and I'm scared to think that if I'd stayed behind, I would have died.

More than that, I'm scared for my friends. Ron and Hermione are the only real friends I have. I know that all the kids at Hogwarts--well, except for the Slytherins--follow me around, talk to me like we're close, and all that, but they aren't my friends. They're friends, or they want to be friends, with Harry Potter, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who, the boy with a scar on his forehead, the Boy-Who-Lived. Ron and Hermione are the only ones who took the time to try and make friends with Harry Potter, the scared little boy who knows next to nothing of the world he has been dragged into, a world where he's gone from being a skinny little nobody, hated by all, to a hero admired by all. If anything happened to them...well, I don't know what I'd do. I couldn't bear it if anything happened to Ron, or to Hermione.

And now I'm leading my friends to the unknown.

We don't know where we're going, or what's waiting for us. All we know is that we're flying into some New York airport. Then we catch a connecting flight to Norfolk, Virginia. We chose Norfolk because it's the original landing site of the English settlers, close to four hundred years ago. There's enough history there to satisfy even Hermione, and enough people to keep us from standing out. We have enough Muggle money between us to shop around a little, pay for museum entrances, go out to restaurants, and so on. We're supposed to act like ordinary Muggle tourists, out for awhile at the nation's oldest city. Hermione's backpack is stuffed with every brochure she could find on places to go in and from Norfolk: Jamestown, Virginia Beach, Colonial Williamsburg, and the like. She keeps talking about how exciting it will be; at least she did until she dropped off.

Maybe she's right. Maybe it will be exciting. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Maybe we were never in any danger at all, and we really are just going to Norfolk as ordinary Muggle tourists. Maybe Dumbledore was just offering me a way to get away from the Dursleys for a summer.

Yeah, right. And maybe flying monkeys will come zooming out of my ass and grant me three wishes. I'm just kidding myself, and I know it. We really are in danger. She was just talking like that to reassure us, and probably herself. She knows as well as I do that while we may enjoy ourselves, there will always be an element of danger lurking just around the corner. We can't do anything that might get any of us hurt.

The really scary part about all this is where we're staying. Dumbledore arranged for us to stay with a Muggle family whose daughter attends an American school of witchcraft. I believe the name of the school is The Salem Witches Institute. He says that he trusts this family completely, but you never know who to trust these days. For all we know, they've become spies for Voldemort. Their daughter is going to meet us at the airport. Supposedly she'll have a sign for us. It'll have something to do with Potter, but because we're still paranoid it won't say Potter outright.

I'm going to take a break now and try and get some rest. There's still six hours left on this flight and I intend to sleep at least some of them.

This is the first chance I've had to write. Hermione woke us up in time to make our connection, but Ron and I were so tired that we went back to sleep on the next flight. Ron woke up for the end, but I didn't wake up until we landed. When we got off the plane, we looked everywhere for the girl. We found her standing under a big neon sign that said I NEED NEW PLATES. Plates...Potter...get it? Anyway, she kind of startled us at first. She has red hair, a little more auburn than Ron's, and freckles like Hermione. But it was her eyes that threw us. She has these emerald green eyes exactly like mine. I got mine from my mum, so it's probably coincidence. It was just so shocking I thought that maybe I was still asleep on the plane. Her name is Kelsey.

We got to her house, and it's HUGE! We thought there must be a family of at least five, but no, it's just her and her big brother. They look nothing alike. She said that she's adopted.

All through dinner she did nothing but talk. We didn't do a whole lot of talking, afraid we'd say too much, but she thought it was just an after-effect of jet lag. She finally let us go up to bed, and that's where I am now.

I don't know what to think. They certainly don't seem like Death Eaters, but you can never tell about Death Eaters. They all look so normal--well, except the Malfoys. But there's an exception to every rule.

Kelsey's got a radio going down the hall. The song playing is one I recognise--I've heard a piece of it. It's an American song called "I Am the Greatest". It's basically about this little boy playing baseball with himself. He throws the ball up and swings at it, but he misses every time. He acts like a professional ballplayer, listening to the cheers. When he has to go home, he says to himself that it is understood that he is the greatest, as the title suggests, but that even he didn't know he was that good of a pitcher. The basic message is to look on the bright side of everything--you know, the glass is half-full instead of half-empty and that sort of thing. I don't do that, I've noticed. I look at both sides of every issue, but the more realistic one is usually pretty darn depressing.

It's late. I'm going to bed. Before I do, think about this when you think about my journal and my life.

As Edgar Allen Poe said in his famous story, The Tell-Tale Heart, "True, I am nervous--very dreadfully nervous--but why must you say I'm mad?"