Out of the Ashes

Marla came.

She talked to him, said Hermione died because she wanted him to live, but he didn't hear her. He kept fixing his bed, his eyes dry lifeless holes in a skull.

She bit him, just a scratch, perhaps she was hoping the pain would shake him, but nothing happened. So she got rid of his clothes, transformed and warped around him, began singing. I don't know how long she was there. At one point he let a sigh escape and closed his eyelids. She transformed back and carried him out of there.

A house-elf must have warned Narcissa, who came running while Marla was in the hallway. She thought he was dead. She came close and spit on his face, laughing, in triumph. Marla hissed an incantation and froze her to the floor. She was not even wielding her wand. She carried Lucius to Karen's bedroom. While placing him on the bed she transformed again and coiled tight around the rigid skeleton covered by parchment his body had become. She started singing again. She sung till the days were long and warm, till there were mushrooms in the fields.

Karen and I had prepared a few potions to help them regain their strength, but when she released him she told us she had her ways and Disapparated.

She came back after a couple of weeks and went directly to Lucius' bedroom. She was there a very long time. He was much stronger when she came to him and asked if he was ready to say goodbye to Hermione. He said he was.

Marla had restored her human beauty. She was still on her father's bed, dressed like the day of our marriage. Her hair was combed the way he did it on New Year's Eve. She looked asleep, peaceful, at last, but the chain of the pendant was not tight around her neck anymore. Many came. Lucius was there; he stood the whole time near her. Marla was beside him. Bellatrix came, the madness roaring in her eyes. She kissed her daughter, then gave Sharina's wand to her sister and left without a word. McGonagall came with the Grangers. Lucius had invited them as well. Luna flew in with a male Thestral from the Forbidden Forest; she told me he had agreed I could try to possess him, to have a body for just a little time, to touch my love again. It didn't work. Maybe if I had been an Animagus before - maybe if I'd had more time -

They came, said goodbye and went downstairs to wait in the atrium. When there was nobody left Lucius asked Marla to leave.

'I did not go through all this to help you kill yourself,' she replied.

'I will not die today or tomorrow. Please let me be alone with her.' I never heard him say 'please', ever. She left. I didn't.

It was well into the night when he went down, carrying her body in his arms. He had undone her hair, which was making small waving movements at every step. So many nights she drowned me in her hair, bending over to kiss me, to suck my lips, always hungry for more. I am a ghost, how can I feel such despair? How can I have feelings?

They all walked outside, to the edge of the woods where we were together, in the blizzard. It was raining, nobody had bewitched a pavilion over the garden. Lucius brought her to me, again, but I could not rest my hand on her, I could not cry nor let the downpour wash the sorrow from my skin. He laid her down on the ground and kissed her lips one last time, then lit a fire. The blue flame burned in the rain, so quickly. Then it was darkness again. The pendant was all that was left, wet and shining on the untouched grass. Lucius picked it up and passed the chain over Marla's head.

We returned to the house and gathered in the ballroom. Marla transformed, then Pente placed a crystal bowl in front of her and asked for the Rite of Vengeance. Many came, looked into Marla's burning eyes, pronounced the oath while Lucius made a cut in their left hands over the bowl. After Draco, also Karen came to her. She was scared stiff, she doesn't speak Parsel, but she came to her anyway.

'You are seeking justice, not vengeance,' said Marla without gazing into her eyes. Lucius translated. His voice sounded strong and firm, his face was a mask of hatred and revenge, but his eyes were crying, all by themselves, like they did the night she died.

'Maybe I just call it with another name. You will know what I seek if you look into my soul,' she replied and extended her left hand over the bowl.

Also Minerva and Luna can't speak Parsel, but they became part of the Covenant.

When nobody else was approaching and Lucius was getting ready to seal the Contract, Mr Granger moved forward. He, a Muggle, spoke in the ballroom at Malfoy's Manor.

'I too seek justice: for my people, for the countless innocent bystanders who have paid the price of your power struggle. I sincerely hope you will prevail, Mr Malfoy, and that in the future the ties between our two worlds will be severed. I am ready to do anything to help it.

'I will do anything.

'I must do something.

'I was her father as well, my heart screams for revenge as much as yours.'

'The Rite of Vengeance is open to all. Also Dobby wants revenge. I wants drink the blood of the bastard Voldemort and dances on his grave.'

Marla's head turned and locked gaze with Dobby. It lasted much longer than with the others. At the end the elf moved to the bowl and Lucius sliced his hand as well. Then he turned to Mr Granger and waited. He went to Marla and looked straight at her with all the pride of a man, of a father. No one spoke, not even when his blood dripped in.

Then Lucius slashed his own left hand, plunged it in the bowl and stirred, while Marla pronounced the incantation sealing the Contract. They all came back and drunk from it.

First they took care of Narcissa. She was the one who denounced us to Voldemort.

Marla went upstairs and freed her from the spell that had kept her frozen till then. She dragged her to a small tearoom on the ground floor and tied her to a lounge chair. Besides Lucius and Pente there were six other Death Eaters in the Covenant. They took turns in casting a Legilimens Spell and showing her my execution, all three days and two nights of it. They all wanted to, but at the fourth repetition she had lost her mind already. Marla released her and she run out. I followed her to the cliff.

The last thing I remember, before my death, is that I wanted to look normal, for Hermione, it is for her that I stayed behind. That doesn't mean I cannot look the way I did when I died, like every other ghost, if I want to ...

Next Marla asked me about the Avada Curses in the Book, if any of them could be used to remove Lucius' Dark Mark. I had been thinking about it myself - when I was alive, I mean. I described the thirty-second and the thirty-fifth, which I thought might work. She listened, then asked me to let her read them herself. I was utterly surprised, but I told her how to open the vault, when we got to my office. She studied them with great care, and the next day we returned to Malfoy's Manor.

Lucius was still not at his best, and yet decided it would have been too risky to wait: Voldemort could use the Mark to kill him any time, even at a distance, so Marla went ahead and removed it.

Pente and two others asked to be freed as well, while the remaining four chose to take their chances with Voldemort.

We were all ready then, and the battle began.

The Covenant was ready to engage in the final battle, and yet our first deed was not one of violence, but of love. We celebrated Draco and Karen's union.

I read it in her mind how much she loved him, how fearful she was for him, that he could die in one of Voldemort's retaliation acts against his father.

She had such a strong bond of friendship with Hermione; her respect for Severus was above and beyond a teacher-student relationship. She was devastated by their deaths, a sorrow not softened at all by the fact that Severus was still among us, as a ghost. Moreover, she was probably the only one truly seeing from the beginning how terrible his fate was, condemned as he is to an eternity of longing, of loneliness without hope. They had been together, though, for precious few months they were happy. It was all she was asking for herself and Draco: a chance to be together, for as long as their destiny would allow.

Lucius requested a strictly private ceremony, and his wish was satisfied.

Less than three months have gone by, since then. So much has happened, good and bad. I will not be the one writing the chronicle of Voldemort's defeat, though: I have passed this task onto Severus. He needs it, more than anyone else.

In her new position of Headmistress Minerva confirmed him Potions Master, when Hogwarts School re-opened, in middle October. She appointed Luna to be his assistant: teaching Potions is not like teaching History of Magic, where all you need is your voice. She thought they might be able to help each other in more than mixing ingredients. In fact it works quite well, during the day. But then, at night, she flies to the Forbidden Forest and he returns to the dungeon, to the room where he was with Hermione, at the time of her first difficult transfiguration. He has not allowed anyone to dismantle the mock-up of the graveyard he had built there. He has brought down Hermione's diaries and reads them, over and over again. He stares at one page, and then starts changing into the mangled corpse Voldemort turned him into. He cries in agony, he dies, over and over again.

Minerva and I have tried to talk to him, to persuade him to stop doing it. Sooner or later he will not be able to return to a normal look, and surely he cannot teach Potions to eleven years old children looking that way. We can transfigure just about anything, but not a ghost, we will not be able to help. He does not hear reasons. He says: 'By night everyone rests. I too must rest in the place where we died.' When I objected that the room in the dungeon is only a copy, the real place doesn't exist anymore, it was completely wiped out from the face of the earth, he sarcastically commented he too is just a useless copy of himself.

I told him to stop his obsessing reading: he should write, instead. Like Hermione did, to find herself in the chaos of her mind, to discover a few small islands where to come to port in her journey through the raging ocean that at the end, without mercy, swallowed her.

Our Resident Snake has appointed herself 'counsellor'. I liked her a lot better when she was surprising us all with her unbelievable lies. She wants me to 'write in proper English, using correct indentation and punctuation'. Like this, Professor? She also told me I should use ink and quill, not burn the characters. She knows it will take me forever to inscribe every word like I would, were I not a ghost. That's her point: she wants to keep me busy so I do not scare the students, at night. Besides, now that she is Head of Slytherin house, there is far less flying around, at night.

There is not much to write about, is there, Marla? The bastard is dead. I don't know if Dobby is disappointed that there is not a grave over which to dance. Dancing must not be too much fun anyway: lately, the only one I've seen doing it was Lucius, and he didn't strike me as enjoying himself then.

Marla is so strict about rules and yet, when one night Lucius came with Tulin, saying he missed her to the point he didn't want to eat anymore, she agreed to keep him here, against all rules and also against every safety precaution: he bit Lucius that same night, while they were sleeping. He is too young to understand reasoning, but his poison glands are fully developed. He shouldn't be here; it is too dangerous for the students. Kayala is a lot more independent. She is already over six feet long and has inherited her father's eyes; she doesn't need to show her fangs to inspire caution. Of course, to be safe, Karen has inoculated everyone at Malfoy's Manor, till the last house-elf.

Tulin got into the habit of sleeping coiled over Marla's tail when she was singing Lucius back to health. He must be jealous, now. She always sleeps as a serpent, even when Lucius comes to her, here, in Hogwarts, although I'm sure she doesn't expect any more attacks. She coils around him and does something, with her belly's scales, while humming a melody. Then the humming turns into a low pitch hiss, which gets higher and higher. My Hermione never made love to me that way. After he is asleep she rests her head on his chest and finally closes her eyes.

I don't know why I watch them. I like to think it is to get even with Lucius, but I'm not sure. What difference does it make, anyway? I can watch them now, strong and powerful, I could watch them grow old and weak - no matter how many times I watch them loose themselves in ecstasy, I will never feel anything except yearning.

I can't even wish to die.

How about trying to feel a little understanding, Severus? Let me help you.

Do you have any idea how hard it has been, for me, after an entire life of hiding, of denying who and what I am, to come out, and to do what? Fight. Can you imagine how I liked to kill and feed with the lives I was taking the monster inside me, the same Hermione tried in vain to tame? Moreover, to be able to bring Lucius out of the abyss he had fallen into, I had to establish such a bond with him I could not even begin to describe. I can't walk away from it, close the door and forget it. We are bound forever. I need to be with him just as much as he needs my touch, my venom, my lust. I do not love him. I never will. I cannot love. It is the price I chose to pay a long time ago. Can you imagine that?

One turns grumpy, when one is dead. You will find out, sooner or later.

Sure, you are right. I could try to be more understanding. I was never very good at that. I was kind of grumpy even before, if I think about it. Now, when it doesn't matter anymore, I have a whole eternity of time to learn to behave around people. Will you wait with me? Or will you slither away, you too will fade away like she did?

X

Luna is the clumsiest assistant I could possibly have. I thought I had been punished enough already - why her? She was not even in my NEWTs. She is always distracted; there couldn't be a worst example for my students. She is totally inconsistent: sometimes, after hours of inconceivable confusion, she comes out with a brilliant idea, out of the blue, shocking every one, including me. I will never understand her. I don't want to. I'm not interested.

Minerva will have to change a lot, next year, if she wants to curb the flood of owls storming her office every day. This year, with all that happened, the students' parents should be already thankful that the school has re-opened at all, and stop pestering her because she has appointed a ghost (aided by the most inept of assistants) to Potions Master, a werewolf to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts and an exceedingly controversial snake Animagus to Transfiguration professor.

I hate to write this, but Lupin is a good teacher, with a lot of practical experience, as everybody who can read a newspaper knows. Professor Pacchiotti was never a lion-hearted wizard. I'm sure he is a lot happier now, running - what did he call it? - 'La Tana del Lupo Mannaro', I think. I never ate a pizza. Too late for that, now.

It is almost too late for my lesson. I spent the whole night writing. Burning the characters is easier than moving a quill over the paper, but requires a lot of time and energy. I must find another method. I like writing, after all. My love liked it as well. She said she was writing a Diary of Nightmares and Bad Luck. Ghosts don't sleep, we can't have nightmares. We make up for it with the 'bad luck' part. Now I'm really late for my lesson.

X

Much better, thanks, Marla! I knew you could make me a Quick-Quotes Quill that would accept dictation from a ghost, if you wanted.

I will write a lot. Not now, I'm busy.

X

Mr Granger is an interesting creature, for being a Muggle. He took his commitment within the Covenant very seriously and still works part time for a muggle periodical, the Skeptical Enquirer. A captivating monthly publication dedicated to exposing all kinds of so-called supernatural phenomena Muggles continuously report in their 'media', as they call the vast array of communication methods they had to come up with, not having magic (This Quick-Quotes Quill works really well!). Anyway, he told us it would be the best place for spotting any real magical event missed by the Ministry's inspectors, and he was right. During the war he was able to bring to our attention quite a lot, and now he is helping Marla with the round up of unreported Animagi - the dangerous ones.

After having revealed herself in such a flamboyant manner she came to the conclusion that Animagi regulation requires reforming, and has appointed herself to the task. Her plan is to demonstrate that such a strict policy only forces witches and wizards into hiding, instead of allowing them to utilize their abilities to the advantage of the whole community. Even worse, someone forced into isolation will surely become more dangerous. So far she has spotted a few Dragons, one Sphinx, two Manticores and one Chimaera. And last week Mr Granger pointed her to the right direction to finally corner a lineage of Acromantulas. Luckily, Karen is really good with antidotes. Still, Mr Granger had to spend four days at Malfoy's Manor. For someone who swore to work to cut the ties between Muggles and wizards he is not too much of an example!

And there is more: Marla has given him a wand. She is teaching him the Protego Spell. She also gave him Potter's Invisibility Cloak, after he was almost sliced in half by the tail of their second Dragon, last month. He certainly has a lot of guts, for a Muggle who knows what he is up against. Of course, it could also be that he is trying to get himself killed in a magical and dreadfully painful way. No idea. What I know for sure is that he is a 'nice guy' doing a pretty useful piece of work for us.

X

Last Friday Luna had another of her out-of-the-blue moments of clarity and insight. She came to me at the end of the morning class and said: 'You were such a good Legilimentor, how comes you have such difficulties in connecting to the mind of Arnold? After all - even though he is an animal and not a wizard - is it not, in principle, exactly the same thing?' She is right, of course. So I spent the whole weekend in the Forbidden Forest with him, trying to apply the same techniques, to permeate myself with his vision of reality. A fascinating experience. It is just the part about flying I cannot get. It will take time.

Like I have a problem with that!

X

I'm so embarrassed. I don't know how to say this, so I will write it. Please, Severus, try to keep your temper in check. Remember, there is nothing more to do about it.

If things had been different, then I'm sure - no, I'm not.

Well, this is how it goes: Lucius had promised Hermione to Pente, as soon as he found out about her. You two were not married yet, you were not even together. Then, when it became clear to him how much she loved you, he decided to wait. I mean, I'm not sure what he had in mind, at that point. I don't think he ever planned to sell you off to Voldemort; Lucius would have never given Him an advantage, not free-willingly.

Something must have changed his mind though, on the way, because I read in her diary that when she was so desperate for the death of her children he bluntly told you to get her pregnant. Obviously his idea was that it would have eased her pain, to have something else to think about, a real, human family. Mostly human, anyway. Fact is, cousin Pente was shattered by her death. That's why it was he who asked for the Rite of Vengeance. He adored her, literally - she was like a goddess to him. He has been since childhood a servant of Sharina. All males in his family have been, for centuries. That's how I found out: he too is an unregistered Animagus - a snake, naturally. He had been dreaming of marrying into the lineage for as long as he can remember.

I knew he was a snake the moment I met him, but did not say anything: I was waiting for him to come forward. Last weekend he did. He volunteered to help me with the data collection of unregistered Animagi. Now that things are slowly calming down and Draco has gained a good insight into the family business, he has some free time. The very thing he doesn't need, just like you and Luna. He told me the whole story - from his point of view, of course. I have not spoken with Lucius yet. You know I haven't seen him since last Thursday: he is busy with the election campaign, he doesn't come every night. To be honest, I don't know how to ask him about it, or even if I should: it is none of my business. Still, if anyone, I should be the one asking him, not you.

You would have found out, sooner or later. Would you please come to me, when you have read this? To your 'personal counsellor'?

Please, Severus, don't hurt him. He is an egotistical, scheming, ruthless son of a Manticore, we all know that. A perfect politician. He will make an excellent Minister. It is time to re-build. No more vendettas, no more pain. We all have been punished enough, especially he.

~~~~~~~

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Ghost of Severus,

I know Marla will pass on to you what I told her - at least, most of what I told her. She is so accustomed to lie; I must make sure she doesn't 'forget' anything.

I told her it is your fault my Lady is dead. You thrived on her doubts, fed her insecurities. You poisoned Her with your so-called love instead of allowing, helping her true nature to blossom. She was the last of a proud lineage, more powerful than the bastard Voldemort would have ever dared to dream possible. And yet She let him kill Her out of fear. Fear to be alone, unprotected. She didn't need protection. Neither from you, nor from her father.

I would have let Her be what She was meant to be. I would have stood in her shadow, served and obeyed her every command.

She had chosen you before knowing any of this. I conformed to her wish and never offered myself to Her. Instead, I spent so many sleepless nights plotting your death, Severus. I devised countless 'incidents' that would have eliminated you without arising suspicions, designed down to the tiniest of details. And yet, since I knew She would have disagreed, at least in the beginning, I never acted upon any of them. This is my greatest sorrow, my only regret. I will never forgive myself for not following my instinct and ridding Her of you forever.

Now She is no more, and after Bellatrix's death the fate of such glorious bloodline rests with Marla, the Liar. I witnessed her power. I watched her kill her sister, cold and unemotional, like she were shelving books in her beloved library. I know I should not complain - after all she eliminated all by herself a good half of the Death Eaters who made the last stand, on the day of our Vengeance. I know Lucius will marry her, as soon as he is elected and has consolidated his power enough. I know he will find a way to generate another daughter. I will wait.

Still, every night, before I fall asleep, my last thought goes to my Lady. She lives in my soul, in an icy and dry corner that no summer day will ever be warm enough to melt.

I hate you, your weaknesses, and your love for Her. Now I can finally say it.

Pente

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For the record, so it will be clear why I did what I'm going to do.

+

Really, Severus! Did you think you and Dumbledore were the only two wizards able to cast a - what did Hermione called it - House-arrest Spell? I admit, to keep a ghost inside a confined area is not easy, but I'm quite good with spells, you know that.

I will talk to you; sooner or later I will catch you. Please, don't make this harder than it already is.

~~~~~~~

Lucius will marry me, find a way to have another daughter? What am I, a piece of furniture? Whatever Lucius wants, he will ask for it, first. And he better be nice, when he does so, if indeed this is his intention.

~~~~~~~

I spoke with Lucius, to tell him to steer clear until I have reasoned with you, basically. I did not find out anything about Pente. If he is not giving interviews for his election campaign it is still quite hard to get a straight answer from him, you know how he is ...

Anyway, I did find out another interesting piece of information: it was he who reported Hermione to the Improper Use of Magic Office, shortly after submitting his paternity claim. We were right: it had indeed been someone who wanted to spoil Voldemort's plans. We just did not consider Lucius to be a possibility. He told me he was hoping Dumbledore would have come up with something. He was extremely disappointed when he didn't.

And while I'm on this unusual truth-spree (Marla, the Liar - thanks cousin Pente!) let me confide something else: Dumbledore knew I was not Hermione's mother from the beginning. I lied to him (...) when he found me and asked, but he saw right through me. So I had to convince him to go along with my 'nicer version' of the truth to give Hermione a break. I'm still happy about the choice. I only wish I had stepped out sooner. I might have been able to help her more. Even though I do not think it would have changed the outcome, in the end.

You know where to find me. Stop being so stubborn, it is not doing anyone any good.

~~~~~~~

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Professor Severus Snape,

It is with my deepest disappointment that I am forced to inform you -

Hell, Severus, I don't need any of this.

I'm trying to run a school, using a Motley Crew of teachers, half of which would have been welcomed by laughers and a few Aurors, in the old days. You are one of them. You are a teacher, therefore teach!

You have a unique opportunity to look forward to: an eternity of helping young minds to develop, to grow up avoiding the mistakes of their fathers. But no, you keep looking back and feeling sorry. For whom? It seems to me only for yourself.

Let me tell you something, then. It may surprise you, but you are not the only one mourning a loss. When I enter my office, every morning, and Albus greets me, I expect his voice to be coming from the desk. Instead, it comes from a painting on the wall. He was my mentor, and a life-long friend. And how about Harry? Is your hate for him still so strong to make you overlook what happened, what the poor boy went through?

I confirmed your position as Potions Master not just to help you. I was convinced you would eventually be able to move forward, to be again the effective and competent teacher you always were. I cannot jeopardize the future of my students by keeping a teacher who disappears and worries first about his personal vendettas. This is not a threat. It is a very sad consideration I'm compelled to make. Please do not force me to find another Potions Master. I need help, if anything, not another problem to be solved by yesterday morning.

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

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Am I a teacher? I was one, an eternity ago. Now I can't even pour a beaker, I can't smell a potion, smear an unguent between my fingers. Frustrating, one may say, if in the mood for understatements. But Minerva is absolutely right in one thing: surely, it isn't any of my students' fault, so they must not pay for it.

I will go back to teaching, to preparing lessons with my alleged assistant, to correcting homework. I will go back to flying inside Arnold's body every weekend, till I have -

X

I hereby solemnly swear not to exercise revenge on either Pente or Lucius.

Professor Severus Snape, ghost

X

It was their anniversary; I had to let him go. I will remain here for the Christmas Holydays, with Minerva and Remus. They have huge amounts of work to catch up with, and I need some time off to hibernate. To be a teacher, the Head of Slytherin house and find time to run around after unreported Animagi is taking a toll on me. I never thought I would admit it, but I am tired. Maybe this idea of writing a diary to unwind is not so bad, after all. The idea of hiding in Beauxbatons' library was a much better one, though. Hell, I miss it!

~~~~~~~

I might have inherited a curse - another one, I mean - with this diary. As soon as I wrote that I was going to take a break and rest ... Dobby came to me with yet another unexpected, hopeless situation to fix before it tears apart this frail net of order we are trying to stretch out in our devastated society.

I don't know how to tackle it. I don't even know why Dobby came to me with this problem. It must have occurred to him that I could choose to side with Lucius and eliminate him - just a rebellious house-elf, who would care?

What am I saying?

One thing at a time. This is the problem:

In the Malfoy's family, like in many others of similar philosophical views about wizarding, there has always been the habit of 'collecting' unlawful magical means of power. Like Tom Riddle's diary, for example. Years ago, in a wave of tougher measures to curb the collecting activities, many surprise-inspections of Ministry's officials were occurring throughout. To avoid being caught possessing forbidden items, Lucius left 'something' in safekeeping by Borgin and Burkes. Dobby doesn't know what it was, he only knows it was very important for Lucius to get it out of his house. Draco was there as well, when he brought this mysterious item to Knockturn Alley, but it seems he doesn't know what it was all about. Still, when two months ago we were getting ready for the final confrontation, Dobby heard Draco asking his father if there was anything hiding in a secret place in their house that could be additional help against Voldemort and his followers.

Lucius answered: 'It is still were we deposited it, and I'm not going to waste it by employing it this time. It will become very useful in the aftermath. You will see.'

Dobby is convinced that Lucius will use something 'very against all we has been going into battle for' to climb to a position of great power, to become the new Minister. He is afraid it could be too late already. He did not come forward before because this happened at a time when Lucius was still his master, and he was already too out of line with his warnings to Potter, he just could not bring himself to even think clearly about this other part of the story. Now, less than a month from the elections, the terror overcame his elf conditioning.

Maybe he came to me exactly because I could turn against him. Maybe if I punished him he would feel better. Yes, that's what I'm going to do. He may relax enough to remember something useful.

~~~~~~~

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Dear Marla,

I imagine you must be awfully busy, but there is a problem, here at home. It is getting out of hand, I cannot wait any longer.

It is about Kayala.

I'm almost sure de Montcauvé had time to do something to her as well, after all - something we did not notice, at first.

She is changing all more rapidly. She spends most of the time alone, outside - in the snow!

Last evening, when she returned and I could take a good look at her, I almost got scared. In only one week she has grown beyond belief. She must be now at least twenty feet long. Her colour resembles more and more Hermione's, it is just lighter, bleached, I might say. She is not yet one year old, this is wrong - horribly wrong!

Lucius says de Montcauvé's laboratory was completely destroyed, to erase all tracks of what happened there. Pity, I could have found a clue, maybe.

I don't know what to do. Draco can still talk to her - control her a little. Everyone else is too scared to get close enough.

I would like to check her poison, I'm afraid the inoculations I gave everyone are not any good anymore. I would be a lot happier if you could help me.

Please come over - even a short visit would be well worth it.

Thanks,

Karen

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Well, I had already decided to go home anyway.

Do I recognise a curse when I see one ... Damn it.

I realize I called Malfoy's Manor 'home'. I must be more tired than I thought I was, to do something so crazy.

~~~~~~~

I just had the most stimulating conversation with Severus. Yes, dear Diary, of course he is here too.

'So, you could not keep away from him, after all,' he greeted me. I wish he'd stop floating into my bedroom, here and at Hogwarts.

'Surprising how quickly you are learning from him: now you do not bother to answer just like Lucius has been doing all along. Quite an annoying habit, if you were interested in my opinion,' he continued.

I hear you quite well, Severus.

I told you to describe in writing our battle with Voldemort. To express the reasons why you were there. You will remain here and dictate to the Quick-Quotes Quill your thoughts and your feelings, till it is all out of you. Then you will put it behind you and go on with life, as absurd as it sounds, for a ghost.

We don't need a record of the events; it was all quite well detailed in the Daily Prophet. You need to do it for yourself.

You will do it or I, your 'personal counsellor', will put you out of your misery, right now. Do we have an understanding, here?

~~~~~~~

We most certainly do. So, this is what happened.

By mid May Hogwarts was already in recess. It was almost like Professor Dumbledore knew what was about to happen to him.

He died on the second day of fighting at the Ministry of Magic, on May 22. He was able to set up one last line of defence around the Department of Mystery, before his demise. Had he not done so, probably Potter would have survived. But this is just my view.

For three days and two nights Voldemort and the 'best' of his disciples tried to neutralize Dumbledore's barrier, but didn't succeed. So he decided to return to his main hideout, together with all of his followers and allies, to re-group and devise a new course of action.

They left a trail of false tracks, to mislead us into thinking they had retreated to another location altogether. On our side there were few, still fighting. The Order was in disarray, after Dumbledore's death; we were indeed confused and mislead.

Not much happened till the end of August, when the Covenant was established. Knowing what I know now, we were lucky Voldemort did not take the chance and waged the final battle before then - he would have probably prevailed. I think he didn't because he was having problems with the vampires, on top of the heavy losses the Death Eaters had suffered, as our side had.

After Hermione's funeral, all that was left of the Phoenix's Order joined forces with us. Mr Granger was then working full time at the Skeptical Enquirer. He reported one very curious 'suicide' in a village near the graveyard where Hermione and I died. It looked suspicious enough. Dobby volunteered to go there and check it out. When he did not return, we assumed he had hit the nest.

We mounted a surprise-attack, in broad daylight. I was put in charge of eliminating the vampires. Easy enough for me, being dead already: I was proficient enough at throwing things around - pointed wooden sticks, to be precise. While busy at it, I had the most pleasant surprise to find Dobby at my side. The elf had been hiding there, waiting for us to come. He had determined that not reporting back would have been the best and surest way of informing us he had found their fort.

I don't know how the battle proceeded, I said I was busy. Anyhow, Marla and the others were finished before I was. They all came out, eventually, the ones who could still walk, carrying our wounded and our dead. Lucius turned to Marla and said: 'Once we have left, I want this place flattened to the ground.' She did just that.

Now it your turn with the Quick-Quotes Quill, Marla. Why don't you express your feelings, supposing you have some?

X X X

When we all came out of the ruins, we helped Severus with the disposal of the vampires. It was a good thing he had already eliminated Charlie Weasley - it would have been terrible for Arthur to see it happening. Still, at every blow, it was like someone was hitting him, instead. Charlie was in Rumania, when he was turned into a vampire; there is not just abundance of Dragons, over there. He must have been ambushed - they must have known he was a member of the Order ...

We were finished before long because nobody wasted time trying to capture someone on the other side, we all just went for the kill.

I began with Bellatrix. I thought it would have been better to get it off my mind right away. No, not really. I thought it would shake the others' morale to see that I had no mercy. No, that was not it either. She was my sister. She despised me, just like Narcissa did, since our childhood - although not any close to what I have always despised myself. I did not paralysed Bellatrix, she just froze there. She could not harm the rightful heir of Sharina. She stood there, looking at me. I killed her with the wand she brought to me, when she came to Hermione's funeral. I used the thirty-seventh Avada Curse from the Book. After Severus showed me how to open the vault, I went back to Hogwarts on my own a nd read it all. I am an experienced librarian, I can read, understand and remember a book in a flash. Any kind of book.

Sharina had a very artistic way of presenting her knowledge. The book moves from the first Avada Curse, so linear and simple, toward more and more complex ones, it reaches levels of incredible subtleties and details with the curses in Parsel, to end, full circle, with yet another example of beautiful simplicity, combined with unparalleled power. One hissing sound, a fraction of a second to take a life. I took twenty-nine lives, that morning.

There was no other way. They were all beyond redemption. I tried to make it quick. They did not deserve a quick death, none of them, beginning with my sister. I did it for myself. I could not give them what they deserved. Still ... The echo the thirty-seventh Avada Curse sends back - only a snake can feel it, understand it - if Hermione had been there, she would have fought as well - she would have tried - she is better off dead - snakes are cold-blooded, the echo is warm, sticky - slides on the skin, makes little ripples around the edges of every scale, seeps into my soul -

No, I don't have a soul, I cannot have one.

I'm sorry, Marla. Why don't you let go, cry and scream, break something? You may feel better.

Snakes don't cry, Severus. You know that.

You look human enough to me, now.

You are mistaken. And the last thing you want to see is me letting go. They are waiting for us, downstairs. It's Christmas Eve. We are going to enjoy a long and delightful dinner. Merry Christmas, Severus. I, unlike you, may wish I were dead.

~~~~~~~

I will not watch them make love, tonight. I will hover here and write about the delightful dinner I did not eat. So, if the Daily Prophet reporter does not report it correctly enough, I will make a copy of this entry and send it to the paper. I can just imagine: 'A glimpse into the private life of our prominent candidate Lucius Malfoy.' Or maybe it will be something more sober, like: 'Christmas Eve at Malfoy's Manor.' Let's see how it went.

At the table, starting from Lucius and moving clockwise, one could have seen: cousin Pente, Lady Alitsa Kwmmelaianen Malfoy (a.k.a. Grandma What's-Her-Name), Mr Granger, Karen, Tulin, Mrs Granger, Draco (at the other end), Kayala, myself, Grandma Elfriede, the reporter and Marla. To pretend to be sitting is not too hard - I can float through the floor and the chair and keep my torso at the right position - but people find it unnerving. They don't know how difficult it is to 'bend' around the chair like they do. Anyway, that poor reporter was finding difficult enough to sit close to Marla, I tried not to make things worse. Since that day at the graveyard (that I will never mention again in my after-life), she has not changed her eyes back. Maybe she cannot anymore.

Karen had given fresh anti-venom inoculations to everyone. She wanted to give one to the reporter as well, but Lucius did not allow it. Of course. It would have been a public acknowledgment that he keeps dangerous creatures at home, which could turn deadly on guests. Less than a month before elections - unthinkable.

Tulin was especially quiet, as much as his sister was nervous and restless. He was coiled over the chair, and his eyes did not leave Mrs Granger for an instant, since she came into the dining room. At one point he slithered over her shoulder, kind of embraced her, then started singing. We were all startled. The room plunged in a chilling silence. Marla asked him what he was doing.

'She has pain. You not sing. I sing,' he answered. Marla's voice sounded very tired, when she replied.

'I know that she has pain, Tulin. I cannot help her. She is not one of us. We do not have the same kind of pains. Muggles become ill with things our Healers cannot cure. I cannot use the spells I know on her; they are too strong for a muggle woman. I am so sorry.' He looked at Marla with his big, green, sad eyes.

'I go with she. I sing.'

Having so said, he warped himself around her waist, leaned his head over her shoulder and started humming again. The Grangers had obviously not understood one word being said, nor had the reporter. This is when Kayala made a sudden jerk toward him. Draco shouted something; she paused long enough for Marla to push the reporter aside. She made a long hiss, and Kayala coiled back at her place. Meanwhile, Tulin was still humming to Mrs Granger, her husband looked more and more worried, Lady Alitsa was having ever bigger troubles hiding the air of complete disgust, for having to sit to dinner with two Muggles, two snakes, a ghost and Marla, Grandma Elfriede looked definitely amused, cousin Pente was lost in hell knows which dream word, Karen seemed engaged in computing how long it would take her to Disapparate, grab some more anti-venom and be back, Draco was staring at his father and Lucius was sipping some maracuja-lassi.

'Thinking that all offspring of Nagini should be eliminated is not very nice, you know ... In general, snakes have a disposition to empathy. One could say they are natural Legilimentors. These two, in particular, have taken a lot from their father, who was particularly gifted, I am being told. Yes, thinking that Kayala should be disposed off, and in her face, is not a very smart thing to do,' said Marla to the reporter, while helping him to get back on his feet. He started to reply, then thought better and locked his eyes to the floor.

'What was my wife thinking, then?' asked Mr Granger in a whisper.

'She was thinking that Tulin has Hermione's eyes,' replied Marla. Mrs Granger seemed enchanted in a trance. She was absentmindedly caressing Tulin's middle section with her left hand, while holding a goblet in her right.

'We could all speak up our minds, perhaps; get it over with and then safely have dinner,' intruded Grandma Elfriede. 'I, for one, have been speculating over which kind of food we are going to eat, tonight,' she added with a grin.

'They have already eaten, and I am a vegetarian, when in human form,' replied Marla casually.

'I am hungry, not a vegetarian and a snake as well, in case you are the only one who doesn't know, yet. I will nevertheless eat human food tonight. I am not in the mood for poisoning anyone.' Pente actually said these words; I'm not making it up because I hate him.

If Lucius' idea of a family celebration shared with the press was anything close to what was happening, I will never know. He had not intervened, nor shown any sign of impatience or disappointment; he had just kept on sipping his lassi, relaxed and at ease like always. Thanks Heavens finally the house-elves began serving dinner. Everyone enjoyed it - more or less. Half way through, one house-elf brought two big bowls of something to Kayala and Tulin, and she started sucking from it. I cannot smell anymore, pity. Grandma was doing it for me, and remembered at the last moment not to comment. Pente asked his servant to bring him some, and drank it with exaggerated pleasure. Kayala at that point started swinging her upper body, light and slow. Pente was fixing her like he was ready to transform and make the rest of the evening - well - more interesting than it had been that far, but then Lucius addressed him, in Finnish, which I don't understand, and Pente went back to his fish soup.

The conversation shifted between frivolous subjects to more serious ones, without touching anything too sensitive for anyone. Lucius made a point of expressing some well thought opinions on the restructuring of inter-species relationships regulations and Marla engaged Mr Granger in an animated debate over the impact of overpopulation on the environment. Meanwhile Mrs Granger was holding Tulin's bowl so that he could sip from it without leaving her. She was obviously feeling much better. The evening proceeded without further awkward moments till dessert.

Then, finally, one of the servants was able to 'accidentally' bump into Mr Granger hard enough to make his wand fall from his pocket to the floor. Lady Alitsa Malfoy gaped at it, then stood up and, with an air of outmost loathing, yelled something in Finnish to her son. This time again, no one needed a translation. Marla slowly put down the silverware and commented:

'I find it definitely rude to speak in a language not everyone understands, if one has a choice.' They stared at one another for a moment, and then Marla continued.

'I gave Mr Granger that wand. I have been teaching him how to protect himself when he needs it. He has been working for us, with us.

'Anyway, I assume this matter will be unequivocally laid down in the revised inter-species protocol our new Minister will impose. Is it not so, Lucius?'

'As I was outlining before, yes, the regulation of this matter is in urgent need of updating,' he replied calmly.

'Next, you will be telling us it was this Muggle who transfigured the Dark Mark over the Ministry ...' The reporter was chuckling, but nobody found his remark overly hilarious. Marla continued.

'No, it wasn't he, who did it. He was not with us, during the fight. After the battle was over, I rejoined Lucius at the Ministry. He conjured the Dark Mark and I transfigured it. We believed that to show the snake turning around and swallowing the skull would have been a signal clear enough that something important had taken place. Wizards and witches came, saw me; Lucius explained what happened. I think it went quite well.'

Grandma Elfriede had not spoken much the entire evening. Just then she thought of reminding Marla that, after all the excitement and the celebrations, she had been accused of just about everything, namely: to have eliminated Voldemort to take his place; to have staged the destruction of the Death Eaters' hideout to cover their tracks; to have faked their deaths; to have killed Harry Potter in order to save Voldemort; to have killed Harry Potter because he was aware Voldemort's phantasm had taken over her while she was a snake.

'Amazing how not one of these rumours has come close to the truth,' concluded Marla, picked up her spoon and resumed eating the cobbler.

They all left, one after the other. Mrs Granger was still sitting at her place, holding Tulin. She asked Marla if he could go home with her. He is more or less her grandson, after all. Mr Granger nodded; Marla smiled and asked Tulin what he wanted to do.

'I go. I sing, sing.' Snakes are not big at smiling, but he was surely happy. I told them I would stop by periodically, in case there is anything they need to say to one another. I am convinced that Tulin's empathy will be a more than adequate mean of communication. They too left, and I spent the rest of the evening with Grandma. She will fly home tomorrow. She is allergic to Floo powder. This is none of the Daily Prophet's readers business - in case I send this excerpt to the paper. I'm curious to read what will come out of such a fascinating evening ...

X

I cannot believe it. I am outraged!

Why did he even bother to invite that dumb-head of a reporter? He could have just as well given him the transcript of his fantasy-dinner; it would have spared us - all of us - a lot of crap.

I should have pinned a cutout of the paper here, as a testimonial. I should not have incinerated it. I am not going to buy another copy: I will not give that bunch of stinking liars another Knut in my life.

I'm out of here. I will return to Hogwarts and hibernate till January. Kayala doesn't need me anyway - she is doing just fine with Pente. Karen was right: de Montcauvé must have done something to her, to make her develop at an accelerated speed, but she is overall quite healthy, I can vouch for that.

~~~~~~~

Severus, you don't know what you missed, yesterday night. Yes, Kayala is definitely a grown up, now. And Pente is one sleek - oh, well ...

Lucius keeps him at a safe distance from me, especially when he transforms. Not that he could be jealous - I am obviously part of some of his scheming. I mean, I am not nurturing any unrealistic illusion about him.

Why am I writing all this in here?

~~~~~~~

Tuesday, January 2

This is a diary; it should have a date on top of every entry. As a ghost, I could theoretically write for centuries, I should make note of the year as well. Hermione didn't. I won't. Maybe in the next diary.

I just got back to Hogwarts. Arnold and I flew Grandma back home on Christmas. I'm beginning to enjoy flying inside Arnold, especially if I have a good reason for doing it, like that one. Grandma was so pleased! We stayed there for another day, but when I found her in the kitchen, crying over sauerkrauts, I decided I'd better go. That was one of my favourite dishes. She cooks them with cumin and - never mind.

We took a wide detour and stopped at Beauxbatons. I forgot to mention that Luna was there as well; she joined us at grandma's, then we flew to France together. I'm not sure if writing why we went there is such a great idea. Marla uses this diary as well; it has become a sort of 'piece for four hands'. She is annoyingly compliant with anything Lucius wants, and I'm not just talking about sex, of course. If it were only that, it would be good: it would keep him distracted and occupied at the same time.

It is about voting in the next election. I am a ghost: I do not have the right to vote. I totally disagree about this rule. I have a family, I am a teacher, I have contributed to the freedom our society has just regained more than a lot of very alive wizards and witches have. Why, then, should I not have the right to choose our next Minister?

House-elves have families and work harder than you do; yet, I never heard you advocating their rights to anything, if I'm not mistaken. Shouldn't Dobby vote, to make a very specific example?

Marla, I was using the Quick-Quotes Quill, if you don't mind. Why do you sneak on me like that?

Let's see: because I am a snake and therefore sneaking comes quite natural to me, and also because this is my bedroom you are in, dictating.

It used to be my bedroom, when I was in need of a bed every night. Maybe it is time I address this matter with Minerva. Most of my belongings are still here, but I could have an apartment of my own. Or I could move the rest of my books to Luna's rooms. After all, if she were spending more time reading them, her usefulness would drastically increase.

I'm curious: why are you assuming I will run to Lucius and tell him all about the ghosts' rebellion you are going to stage, at the next elections?

Also, do we need the Quill to keep a record of our conversation?

Let's see: because you cannot sleep anymore if he doesn't let you massage his stomach from the inside, to name the first motive striking my mind. You just cannot reason, when it comes to him. You are worse than a house-elf.

How can you, of all people, seriously conceive that he could be our new Minister? You may have removed his Mark, but he is still a Death Eater, and one of the worst, for that matter. He was among the first to join forces with Voldemort. He has used his wealth and power only to his personal advantage throughout all his life. He is an egotistical arrogant liar, who had switched side solely because it was the most convenient course of action, given the circumstances. He is a killer, who had no second thoughts when it came to disposing of his former colleagues.

Stop looking at me that way. I'm dead already, remember? Are you going to turn into a Basilisk and knock me out -?

No, I am not. I need fresh air. I will take a walk. See to it that your books and your floating essence are not here when I come back.

Thursday, January 4

Ginny Weasley has agreed to help us. I had no doubts that she would. I still would be much happier if Karen were here to help. I will not ask her, too risky. The new moon will be on Thursday, January 18: it will be a close call, with only one day left before election. I know I will not be able to achieve much in such a short time. Maybe I'm doing this only to please Luna. It was her idea. I should have thought of it myself. Except that I am not myself anymore. My thinking is different. I find it much harder to concentrate. To be honest, I cannot concentrate anymore. Thoughts come and go more or less on their own accord. When my soul floats free, I do not have a mind to concentrate; when I possess Arnold's body, then his perceptions interfere with my thinking. Thestrals have a picture of the world which has nothing to do with our. For one, time flows at a different speed, for them, much slower - it's like seeing everything happening in slow motion. And his eyes! I can see so much more! I can look at a forest, below, and suddenly focus on a branch, teaming with ants, dancing. I can see the wings of a dragonfly beating in the wind. When Luna flies beside me, I can pinpoint every single muscle contracting and relaxing, under her skin, smell her scent. I failed to mention: it all happens in the most eerie silence. Thestrals are almost deaf. All I can hear are some very low frequencies - no idea where they come from, yet. The sounds are soothing, an almost unnoticeable background. I wonder if Luna knows what they are.

X

Friday, January 5

Tomorrow I will go visit with the Grangers. I was so taken by our latest law-breaking activity that I completely forgot about Tulin. Well, if something really bad had happened, I guess I would have been informed.

X

Sunday, January 7

Nothing bad happened. On the contrary, Mrs Granger's health is improving more than in the rosiest of her husband's hopes. She still undergoes some 'alchemistic therapy', or however the Muggles call it, but she is getting stronger every day. I'm happy about it. At least, one good thing came out of that unbelievable Christmas Eve dinner ...

Tulin is also doing fine. He is very active, while extremely careful in avoiding being spotted by the neighbours. I wonder if Marla will start teaching them Parsel, after she has taught enough spells to Mr Granger. There was no mention of Mr Granger's wand, in the Daily Prophet, naturally. There was no mention of anything that actually happened, around that table.

Anyway, Mrs Granger has gone back to work, a couple of hours a day. That's good. I need to see Ginny.

X

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Severus,

This is the last time I write you a letter of complaints. The next one will be to suspend your commission as teacher at Hogwarts.

I will try to be as plain as I possibly can: you must decide whether you want to be a teacher or a poltergeist. What's the difference, you may ask?

* A teacher makes himself available to the students who come to him

* A poltergeist roams the castle, mainly at night, passes through walls and floors, scaring students on his way, better if no teacher is there to catch him

Do you understand the difference?

You certainly picked up a perfect time, to visit Gryffindor's girls dormitory - just after full moon, when Remus was in no condition to react like a Head House should. While I write this, owls keep coming in, bringing more and more grievance messages from the parents of the students at large, not just the Gryffindors. Thanks, Severus.

What were you thinking?

Yes, you are a Slytherin, used to a different set of moral standards than the repressed rest of us; could you at least roam Slytherin Tower, if you must? Then it will be all between you and Marla - if she is there - if she is not busy entertaining our future Minister.

It's only the beginning of January. I sincerely do not know how I'm going to manage this school till the end of the year. Maybe I will not have to. Maybe the Governors will suspend me, before long. Maybe they will be right in doing so.

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

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Monday, January 8

At breakfast I went down to the Great Hall and apologized. I said it would not happen again. I lied.

X

Tuesday, January 9

There was a question I wanted to ask Lucius since the day Hermione and I returned together to Malfoy's Manor, looking for Herty, but never did. At first I didn't because I deemed it too dangerous for us, to keep stirring up the subject. Then, after her death, somehow it was not important anymore. Now, contemplating the very real possibility that he will be elected, I realize I owe it to my fellow wizards to find out which level of scheming he reached, at the time of Voldemort. So I waited for him, outside Marla's window. I said I wanted to talk to him, as he was flying through me. I think I shouted. Anyhow, he stopped in mid-air, turned the broom around and pointed it to the ground below. I followed.

'Make it brief: I don't have a lot of time. I'm already spending too much of it here, with her,' he snapped in my direction while touching down.

'No one is forcing you to spend the nights here, right? In fact, I would even go as far as defining it your weakness, if it weren't you I was talking about,' I more or less commented. He might have been offended by what I said, but did not leave. So I asked him, finally, how did he found out I was playing double-agent, almost three years ago - supposing it was the truth he told us when he said that.

'And why do you assume I will tell you the truth now?' he asked, without the sarcasm I had come to expect from him. In fact, he looked quite tired. He always does, when he arrives here, now that I think about it.

'Remember Nimphadora, Narcissa's niece? I sent her to Dumbledore, to join with the Order of the Phoenix,' he replied, almost annoyed.

'She died in the last fight. She cannot confirm your story.'

'Yes. How unfortunate.' A remnant of the old evil sparkled in his eyes.

'Did you kill her?' I asked then.

'Really, Severus!' He burst in a shallow laughter, mounted his broom and flew to Marla, barely making through the window she always keeps wide open, even though she is a snake and this year we are having a very cold winter.

I'm almost sure he killed Tonks.

X

Friday, January 12

I stumbled upon Dobby, on my way here. Now I take great care, when I float about : to stay out of the way, I always glide through the kitchen, the sewage or the dungeon. I have never seen Dobby so terrified, not even when he was fighting for his life. When I asked him what was the matter, he pulled out his tongue and began poking holes in it, with an apple-coring knife. So I left him alone.

X

Wednesday, January 17

Tomorrow night we will add the last two ingredients, and then we will proceed with the experiment. I have no idea to which extent it will work, or even if it will work at all. There are countless things that can go horribly wrong. Luna says she has a feeling we will be just fine. I have come to trust her intuitions - still - I will narrate what we have been up to, just in case.

There are three basic types of Polyjuice Potions, all illegal, used to transform: a wizard/witch into another wizard/witch (of the same sex); a wizard/witch into an animal; an animal into another creature of a different species. Of course the same goals can be achieved by using transfiguration spells, but they are almost impossible to master, when it comes to transforming extremely complex beings, like humans or big animals. Like Thestrals, for example.

Luna asked Arnold his permission to transform him, to give him a human form: mine. Then I could possess him, as I have successfully accomplished for the past two months, and in so doing I would have my body back, in a sense. She had the idea well before Christmas, when I was grumpier than usual for not being allowed to vote at the next election. Of course I am still officially dead, so I don't know what is going to happen, when I show up. She thought about it for a while, told Arnold, allowed him to be with me alone for a while, to think it over, then joined us at grandma's and explained the plot to me. From there we went to Beauxbatons because I knew of one book of spells they had over there, in the library, which was dealing with the Polyjuice Potion the way we needed it. While we were there, we stole one of the ingredients we were still missing from - well, maybe I should not mention this part.

The last two substances must be added at new moon. That's tomorrow night. As soon as the potion is ready, Luna, Arnold and I will fly to London, to the Grangers'. They have agreed to shelter us, while we proceed with the transformation. This way I will be already in town, to go to the Ministry and vote, first thing, on Saturday morning. That's all.

X

Not quite. What could go wrong?

The Potion could kill Arnold, right the instant he drinks it. He knows it.

The transformation could be a failure: incomplete, for instance. That would probably kill him as well.

He could be unable to handle a human body and go mad.

There are numerous ways in which the possession could backfire.

Even if up to that point all goes well, still later, when the effects of the Potion run out, I could find myself incapable of separating my essence from 'my body'. I don't know what would happen to me, exactly - I would probably die, torn to shreds, once and for all.

X

If there is a good thing, about being a ghost, is that I do not experience pain anymore. I can still suffer, but it is not physical, it cannot be. Now, when I think back at what that bastard put me through - when I remember -

I am afraid. I do not want to feel pain again. Not after the terrors I endured when I died.

X

Friday, January 19

I could not do it. I kept thinking about my death. I couldn't go through something like that again. I don't want Arnold to suffer, either. I know, he wanted it for Luna. He is bewitched by her. His emotions are so strong that, when I am in him, I can't help but find myself irresistibly attracted to her.

She was awfully upset. She yelled at me, called me names - the most used being 'bloody coward' - then grabbed the potion, jumped on Arnold and flew away, crying.

So today I discovered that I can teach Potions even without an assistant, after all. It is much harder, though. I miss her. I'm sorry I hurt her feelings.

The hell with the election. Lucius will win; my vote could not make much of a difference.

X

Tuesday, January 23

So, he has been elected. What else can I say?

X

I could mention that Marla asked me to 'please' replace her as Head house for tonight, so she could attend the banquet celebrating Lucius' inauguration. Of course I will. In my mind, I never left here.

X

Wednesday, January 24

Today teaching was almost impossible. I had third- and fifth-years. I was surprised to see how much such young and usually distracted minds could be interested in the recent political developments. These are the times I regret most not having a body: I could have cursed someone - that would have captured their attention!

Marla, you are back. How was the -

IS THIS YOUR DOING?

What? Let me see.

... Mmmm ...

No, but I wish it were. Where did you get it? Can I keep it? Quite accurate, wouldn't you say? Whoever wrote it, basically only forgot to mention that he calls you -

SHUT UP!

An owl delivered it to Draco, who forwarded it to me. It appears that exactly the same parchment was distributed to a huge amount of homes, during the day. I'm appalled. After all the efforts, after all we have done. Cowards! I have so enough. I'm so tired, of everything. I want peace - silence. And that includes your squeaking Quick-Quotes Quill.

Sssehrr harsss!

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Lucius Malfoy

Minister for three days - Death Eater for twenty-eight years

No proof of his activities as prominent supporter of Lord Voldemort remains, after the convenient killing of all of his colleagues, nor any other track of the many unlawful enterprises, which have paved the way of his long and successful career. The only consistent pieces of evidence are the wealth and power of the Malfoy family, which arise legitimate doubts in the minds of many.

Doubts and questions, which extend to include the means he utilized to reach, although through an election, the highest public position in our society.

He will be the reference point in the re-building of our shattered community. Which kind of world he will actually promote, besides the electoral propaganda, is anyone's guess and fear.

Remembering his once well-known racist sentiments, the wizarding world is anxiously waiting to see what he meant with '[...] every species must find, within its rightful place in our common wealth, its duties and the fulfilment of its ultimate destiny.'

Goblins and house-elves, ghosts and vampires, werewolves, Animagi of all types. Which place is 'right' for them, Minister? Have we been helped by a poisonous Animagus-snake only to find out too late that the cure is worse than the illness?

This brings to mind another aspect of his life, which deserves special attention: his 'soft spot' for the Lestrange sisters.

First, he married Narcissa, the youngest (now deceased - suicide?) who gave him a son, Draco. At about the same time he also had a daughter, Hermione, from the oldest, the infamous Bellatrix (also deceased, or so everyone has been told). Now he is making no mystery of his liaison with Marla, the serpent, the rightful heir of a dynasty of black sorceresses, stemming from Lady Sharina, over a thousand years ago. Marla, the same witch who came out of nowhere to allegedly kill her sister Bellatrix, twenty-seven Death Eaters and Harry Potter, in the day of Lord Voldemort's defeat. The Boy-who-lived survived his Unforgivable Curse, but could not survive her. Anyone who had the chance to look into her burning, slit eyes will have no trouble in noticing a striking similarity with the gaze of Lord Voldemort (now deceased?).

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Well, I don't need a Quick-Quotes Quill anymore. I'm quite good, now, at moving things around. I can always use some more exercise, in case Luna has disappeared for good from the school and from my life.

Anyway, that parchment was the reason why Marla was so upset. Furious, I may say. From her point of view, I cannot blame her: she has in fact done so much that at least she deserves some gratitude.

I wonder who wrote it.

X

Friday, January 26

This morning the front page of the Daily Prophet was picturing the already famous parchment against Lucius, followed by a lengthy interview centred on the accusations. I would have attached a cutout in here, had Marla not incinerated it, after reading. I thought better not to ask those morons another copy: I truly dislike fires.

So, I will summarize our Minister's reply, as I remember it.

The first point he made was to describe how deeply hurt he had been by such a roll of unsubstantiated allegations. Poor battered soul! My heart would bleed, if I had one! But let's not strain with cynicism.

He then outlined the lack of courage of the anonymous author of such pamphlet, who obviously didn't have a shred of proof, or he would have at least come forward sooner. He also mentioned the fact that it had already been proven he had worked for Voldemort in the past, under an Imperius Curse, '[...] one of the most painful memories, which will haunt my nights forever.'

Next came a quite boring list of initiatives and studies he is planning to bring to life, as soon as possible; an extract from his electoral propaganda, someone would say ...

But the best came at the end, when he declared he was going to marry Lady Marla, in July, to avoid interfering with her teaching at Hogwarts. From what happened to the paper, when she reached that line, I can safely assume Lucius had not bothered to inform Marla that they are getting married, in July.

I almost forgot: he also explained one more time, with the details and the patience of a grandparent talking to a very young child, how and why Potter died. I must admit, he has a way with words, a sense of drama ... The fact that it was a drama helped, too.

Potter had told us about the Prophecy. So the plan was to shield and protect him, to let him get to Voldemort. He was waiting for Harry. They faced one another, and then Potter spelled the Curse. Voldemort must have planned it for months, from the time he was at the Ministry, last May, trying to breach into the Department of Mystery. He knew Dumbledore's barrier would not have let him through, no matter what. So, when Potter cursed him, he answered with a spell in Parsel, and died. A thick black fog flew from his nostrils, engulfed Potter.

'I cried out her name - Marla,' repeated Lucius in the interview. 'In the blink of an eye she was at my side, staring in horror at that unfortunate young man being taken over by the overwhelming power of Lord Voldemort. The fog dissipated and he looked at us. We had no doubts, Harry Potter was no more. Marla killed his body, destroying both of them at the same time. Then it was all over.'

X

I hated the blundering idiot. So arrogant - just like his father, James. Still, I was sorry that he had to die in such a horrible way.

X

Shall I also mention that I just saw Lucius fly in, as usual? Maybe he wants to talk to her, begin planning his wedding ...

X

Monday, January 29

Luna was back, this morning. She walked in the classroom, picked up the pile of assignments from my desk and begun distributing them, like nothing had happened.

'It worked just fine, thanks, and the Grangers say hallo. Tulin also, I think,' she commented with that annoyed tone I know so well.

I missed her. I'm happy she is back.

X

Monday, February 5

I spent the weekend in the Forbidden Forest, again. Arnold was quite pissed off, with me, at the beginning. Thestrals are very intelligent creatures, if only they were not deaf and could have developed a language, they could be so high in the Almost-not-an-animal list to be another of Lucius' interspecies regulation problems.

Anyway, I understand he wants to transform again, as soon as he has recovered enough. A couple of weeks should suffice. I'm excited about it. I will do my best to overcome my fears and go through, this time.

X

Thursday, February 8

I just floated through the kitchen. I could not see Dobby anywhere. Naturally, when I asked the other house-elves, they not so respectfully turned away without answering. I'm just a ghost. There is hierarchy, among the non-wizards, and ghosts are not positioned very high in it. Besides, they all still consider Dobby the worst disgrace that could have befallen their kind.

X

Friday, February 16

Marla just left. She told me what happened. She didn't ask me to come along because it was an emergency. I cannot Apparate, obviously, I have to fly, and there was no time.

Mr Granger called her because of Tulin. She had given him a bewitched wooden stick - she had a splinter of it stuck somewhere in her body. He broke the stick and she knew she had to go immediately.

Apparently the Grangers had taken the habit of throwing Potter's Invisibility Cloak over Tulin, when someone was visiting, instead of hiding him. He learned it, so when Mrs Granger was so upset because one of the women she was having the therapy with died, and she told her husband she would go to the hospital, Tulin grabbed the Cloak and hid in the automobile. They don't think he left the vehicle, when they got there, but even to wait in the park-zone was enough, for his iper-developed sensitivity. When they got back home, he unwrapped himself and coiled in Mrs Granger's lap, looking very sick. That's when her husband called Marla.

Tulin waited for her to arrive, then said only few words, in his childish, broken Parsel:

'Much pain. I not sing. I not be,' and died.

Marla returned to Hogwarts and waited for Lucius to arrive, to break the news to him. She told me that, when she was finished telling him, he dryly commented:

'The son of Nagini, dying of compassion ...' and begun undressing.

She said that the way he pronounced 'compassion' froze the blood in her veins, so she kicked him out and came to me. She needed a hug from anyone but Lucius, and I could not help. All I could do was to float and listen.

X

Sunday, February 18

Tulin's story was on third page, on the morning edition of the Daily Prophet.

There was an interview with Mrs Granger, detailing her almost miraculous healing, and a few further comments that could have come only from Lucius, unaccredited. I was utterly disgusted. He would feed his own mother to the vampires, if he thought there was some advantage to gain. Marla read the piece, after Minerva handed over the paper to her. Then, naturally, the parchment caught fire in her hands.

If Tulin's death was not enough of a tragedy, there is Kayala.

Pente has been quite busy with her, since Christmas: in January she laid three eggs, then ate them. Karen was the only one to be sorry. No one else was too thrilled at the thought of having more monsters slithering around the house.

Anyhow, we were all at the mansion for Tulin's funeral, including our friend the Daily Prophet's reporter. At one point it looked like Kayala was going to eat Tulin's body as well. Marla transformed, then ordered her to step away. Kayala responded with a spell, which obviously bounced off Marla's skin. She turned to Pente, and he made the mistake to admit:

'You, who teach spells to Muggles, why are you so surprised if I teach our arts to the offspring of the Lady Sharina?'

He shouldn't have said that. She hit him with the Cruciatus, in Parsel, and let him wriggle on the floor for what seemed an eternity. Snakes' screams are hair-raising. Karen must not be too accustomed with that kind of sound, yet; I don't think she heard much. Kayala was ensnared: she might have learned another spell, after all ... The reporter Disapparated at the first sign of troubles. I'm sure he will receive a transcript of what should have happened at the funeral. I can't wait to read it, tomorrow.

X

Monday, February 19

It is still winter, we don't mind to get an extra warm up at breakfast, but some students are beginning to show signs of anxiety, when the Daily Prophet is delivered to the teacher's table, in the expectation of another of Marla's blazing outbursts. Like this morning, when she read what Tulin's funeral felt like, through the watery eyes of our so sensitive Minister Malfoy. I'm being sarcastic, dear Diary.

I will not repeat any of it here - Marla could read these pages, one day: it would be a pity if she reduced them to ashes as well.

None of the teachers has dared to congratulate her for the impending nuptials. Actually, nobody has even gone so far as to mention it, in her presence.

X

Friday, February 23

This was an exciting evening. Puzzling, too.

It started when Madam Pomfrey sent for me. Dobby had been brought to the hospital ward, by Fawkes. The elf was in a pitiful state, his feet burned to the bones, emaciated, dirty, his clothes and skin a mess of cuts and bruises. Our nurse thought I could help with some unguents, perhaps. She had also called on Marla, since her healing songs are quite famous. Dobby was unconscious - he still is - we have no way to be certain of what happened.

Dumbledore's Phoenix disappeared right after his death. We had come to the conclusion that he had reclaimed his freedom; they are strange kinds of birds, the Phoenixes. I think Dobby went in search of Fawkes, who knows why, and obviously found him.

Anyway, while I was by Dobby, trying to figure what I could do to help, Marla arrived, followed by Lucius. He looked irritated, as anyone would be, for having been interrupted in the middle of ... the usual. As soon as Fawkes saw Marla, he began singing. She snapped her hands over her ears, knelt down, trembling, her face disfigured by pain. Nobody else was being affected by the bird's song in the slightest. We were still, speechless, wondering what was the matter. Lucius pulled out his wand and threw a curse at Fawkes, who was quick enough to dodge it and fly away. Marla fell on the floor, convulsing. I looked at Lucius and, to my biggest surprise, I saw he was genuinely worried. I mean, he was not pretending to be concerned, for hell knows what twisted plot of his. He knelt by her and started caressing her hair, gently, which shocked us all a lot more than anything else we had seen thus far. She calmed down, opened her eyes and whispered: 'Please, take me back upstairs.' Lucius helped her to get up and they walked away, slowly, oblivious of us.

Luna and I remained there to help Madame Pomfrey for the next few hours. It will be a while before Dobby can tell us what happened. Minerva arrived a bit later, when the big commotion was already over, so I relayed to her what I saw. She was just as baffled as the rest of us, but decided to leave them alone till morning.

I don't have a clue. I hate to admit it, but I am somewhat relieved to know that Marla is not invulnerable, after all. And that she can feel pain like any other witch.

X

Monday, February 26

Arnold and Luna wanted to use again the Polyjuice Potion, last Saturday, but I was worried when Marla did not show up at breakfast; I convinced them to wait. Minerva went to check and Lucius told her to go away through the closed door. They locked themselves in her rooms the whole weekend. So I waited till this morning, when he finally left, then I knocked at the door, before floating through. She looked mildly amused: she knows I was never too good at being polite.

She was combing her hair, getting ready for the morning classes, looking very tired. I did not say or ask anything. After a little while she began talking, almost casually.

'All snakes speak Parsel. Have you perhaps wondered why you never heard a snake sing, before you heard me?'

'Now that you mention it ...' I replied. She went on.

'Only the Daughters of Sharina can sing. Sometimes the first generation of halfbloods, like Tulin, can too. It runs in our veins, as so much else does.' She paused, to let a big cloud in her eyes dissipate.

'Sharina stole the songs from a Phoenix. She tortured him, eventually she killed him, or so the legend goes. Phoenixes and snakes have been enemies since.

'I knew Dumbledore kept Fawkes by him and that he flew away after his death. I was hoping he would never come back to Hogwarts.'

She made another long pause, before answering the last question I did not ask.

'You only heard me sing for healing, for bonding, but there are many other songs. I know them all. There is one I would never use - not against my worst enemy.' She turned to me, with a smile so full of pain I could have screamed.

'Would you walk down with me, Severus?'

I'm almost certain Dobby went looking for Fawkes, but why? Did he know? Was it possibly that song he was after?

X

Tuesday, February 27

These past few days - nights, I'd better say - have been so much like the old days I almost find myself thinking I will stumble upon Potter, around a dark corner. It is already Tuesday because it is about four in the morning. Another fascinating night. Let's start from the beginning.

After I finished writing the previous entry, I decided I would spend the night in the hospital ward, by Dobby, not because I overly like him but because I immensely dislike and mistrust our Minister. I was afraid he would try something. I was right. He was not the first to get there, though.

When I arrived, I found Marla. She was bent over the elf's bed, engaged in a ritual I've never seen before. She was not singing, as far as I could tell. By the time I had decided to go call someone who could wield a wand, Pente flew in, breaking a window. She raised her upper body, told him to be quiet and went back to finish whatever it was that she was doing, then transformed back and told him, harshly, that he should not have come.

'My Lady, I could not wait any longer: I must identify the reasons for the attack you suffered; I must see justice done,' he replied.

'Dobby did not attack me. Fawkes is gone, again, and even if he were here, you would not harm him on my behalf or for any other reason. Is this clear?'

'It is just a bird!' He had the imprudence to exclaim.

I love it, when Marla goes on one of her demagogical sprees - she should be a politician, not him! She caught fire immediately and started yelling at him.

'Yes, he is just poultry! And Dobby? Isn't he just an elf? A pretty bad one, for that matter: so independent, he even dares to think! And how about the Grangers? They are just Muggles!

'Do you suppose I have killed my sisters and so many other wizards only to get back into the same old shit, with somebody else at the top?'

Speaking of the Devil, at that point Lucius flew in through the same window, which no one had repaired, yet. Point blank, he asked Marla if she had questioned Dobby already. She was angry at orange-level. I'm almost sure she can turn into a Basilisk like Hermione, because the more she is enraged, the lighter her eyes become. It goes without saying that I never saw them turn completely yellow: I would not be here writing about it ... Anyhow, she faced him and told him she had come to set-up a defence around Dobby, to protect him from uninvited meddlers like the two of them, and that they should leave right away. When Lucius didn't move his legs, only his left eyebrow, she added that he was invited into her bedroom, not in the hospital wing, and that even the school's Governors were not supposed to come visit the premises at night, through shattered windows.

'Can I help you, gentlemen?' intruded Remus at that point. He had recovered the Marauder's Map from Potter's belongings and must have added a few security features, now that the former marauder has turned into a very responsible Hogwarts' professor.

Next, it was Madam Pomfrey's turn to show up and threaten everyone of I don't know what, if they did not leave at once. No one took her seriously so Marla volunteered to curse them in her place, which surely would have been a lot more effective; her eyes were glowing dangerously bright, at that point. Then Pente decided he had enough and draw closer to Dobby's bed. Big mistake. Marla likes fires; Pente doesn't - at least not anymore. After extinguishing him, she turned to Lucius.

'Don't even think about it. I have been fooling around with shields since I was a little witch in dire need of protecting a lot more than a hospital bed. You will leave Dobby alone, till he has fully recovered. Only then, I will ask him what he had in mind with Fawkes. We are all leaving, now. Are you coming with me, Lucius?'

They all left, but the nurse. Dobby is still unconscious, asleep inside a wall of fire. I wonder if I could get through. No, not really.

X

Saturday, March 3

I am a bloody coward - now. I didn't used to be one.

This morning I flew to the Forbidden Forest with Luna - and with the best of intentions. Arnold was waiting for us. He licked some of that revolting looking mixture, then transformed. That alone was utterly scaring, but - never mind. I found myself staring at myself. It was not like gazing in a mirror. It was terrifying. I - he was trembling. After all, it is still quite cold, early in the morning, and he was naked. Luna had brought a big blanket; she wrapped him in it, holding him, knelt in the grass. She was rocking him, like a baby. It was his stare, which threw me into an uncontrollable panic: a bleak stare, from my eyes. I could not take it - I flew like hell, back to the dungeon, where it is cold and dark, where nobody can stare at me with my own soulless eyes.

I will spend the night reading the diaries, all three of them, from the beginning. Maybe it will help me remember what I used to be, before.

X

Oh my! So this is the deal, with Dobby: he went to Marla to tell her about something very dangerous he thought Lucius may use to climb to power; she was determined to go to the bottom of it but then, miraculously, she forgot. Luckily for me, she wrote about it before leaving for Malfoy's Manor, since at the time she was still using this diary. Maybe she has not forgotten anything at all. What am I going to do? Minerva - I will go tell her. No - she is just an old witch, no match for the two of them together. Remus. Tonight is full moon, I cannot ask his help either. I am a ghost, what can I do? Damn it, I could have a body, right now, if I had not freaked out again. I will wait for next weekend, tell what I know to Remus and Luna, get my body back and then confront Marla, during the day, in the hope that Lucius will be busy somewhere else. I should not write this in here. She may read the diary to spy on me, to see if I have found out -

X

Friday, March 9

At this point I don't know what to think anymore.

Fawkes is back; he flew in the Great Hall at dinnertime, screeching.

Marla got up, her chair fell behind her with a loud thud, but she did not reach for her wand. He flew around a couple of times, while she stood there, following his flight with her eyes, which had turned perfectly black. Her mouth was slightly open; I could not hear anything, but the floor started vibrating. Fawkes' cry faded out. He landed on the teachers' table and walked toward her. She still had not transformed, nor pulled out her wand. The bird stared at her, then moved to her goblet and dropped a few tears in it. She picked it up and drank it. Then ... nothing happened. Fawkes took off and flew away, shrieking as loud as before. She lifted her chair, sat down and went back eating dessert.

I told Remus to come to Luna's room, tonight, and to bring Ginny with him. I also told Minerva to come. I will read them Marla's entry about Dobby. I need to tell them about the Polyjuice Potion. Tomorrow I will have a body back. I only hope it will not be just to die in it, a second time, at the hand of a Death Eater.

X

Saturday, March 10

I am a ghost again but without having died again, which is good.

Minerva, Remus and I (Arnold/I) went to confront Marla. We insisted Luna and Ginny stayed behind, as a backup. She was in her study, working, and did not hear us coming. Was she surprised!

'Severus?!? This is very impressive! And just as unlawful ... This must be Luna's animal-friend, am I right?

'Presently,' she added, nodding to our three wands pointed at her, 'you do not seem overly concerned about the law. Can we talk, perhaps, before you curse me?'

'We came to talk,' answered Minerva. 'Do not take it personal, but we are tremendously worried and can't afford more risks.'

She smiled and leaned back, while keeping her hands on the desk, well in sight.

'You have been reading more than writing, Severus. I could have erased the entry I made about Dobby, when I got back after Christmas, you know. But it was in the last of Hermione's diaries. She never deleted anything; I felt it would have been wrong if I did. You would have found out anyway, sooner or later.'

At that point I was scared stiff, not because she was doing anything threatening, on the contrary, she was not doing a thing, not even trying to defend herself. She went on.

'You want to know about Lucius' path to power, yes? About the pearl of his illicit collection. He told Draco that he didn't want to waste it on Voldemort; well, he ended up wasting it on me. Those ancient incantations can be tricky to grasp. He didn't recognize, perhaps, that hatred was a fundamental component, that the victim should have fought back, to empower it. I didn't fight. I don't hate him. Evidently, he doesn't hate me either.

'Afterwards, at first he ordered me to ... It doesn't matter what he wanted me to do. I didn't particularly like it, but I complied, to see what would come next. Then, he ordered me to do something I would never ever do, so I didn't. He was mad - you have no idea. I explained that I had given myself to him already, in a manner which would have neutralized any possible black magic he could have conjured up to control me. I too was quite mad, realizing he had not understood any of it. Retroactively being mad at one another doesn't count, though: what was needed was pure, genuine hatred, at the exact right moment.

'It is conceivable that Dobby went in search of Fawkes to ask him to 'cure' me with his tears, which is what he tried yesterday. As soon as the elf is well enough I will ask him. Dumbledore's bird didn't heal me because there is nothing wrong with me. Instead, we sung to one another, we worked out a truce. After more than a thousand years, there is peace between a Phoenix and the last Daughter of Sharina. I'm delighted that one more tassel has been added to the mosaic of peace we are assembling. I hope I will see Fawkes again soon, to sing again with him.

'This is all. Now, all you have to do is to decide whether you believe me or not.'

Not an easy decision. The first to lower his wand was Remus, then it was Minerva's turn. I was the last mostly because Arnold and I were both scared stiff, as I said before, literally; but at the end I was able to let my arm fall. All this time Marla sat there, her hands relaxed over the parchment she was writing when we arrived, smiling. She had one last surprise in store for us.

'Since you have been kind enough to spare my life, then I will give you a present in return. I will share a secret with you.

'Every wizard is aware that Basilisks kill with their eyes, besides their venom. Whereas, not many know that this fact is not inescapable: a Basilisk kills only if she wants; if she doesn't, it is quite safe to look at her in the eyes.'

We did - all three of us - no time to do otherwise, so quickly it happened. She did not transform her body - only the eyes. Mesmerizing. She could have killed us without moving a finger.

X

Sunday, March 11

I'm back from the Forbidden Forest. I spent the day there, with Luna and Arnold. He is still quite exhausted from yesterday's adventure. I understand it is not so much the transfiguration - he had done it three times before - it is the scare that has left a mark. I am still shaken myself.

I don't know what to think, again; Marla is the most complicated witch I have ever tried to figure out. Why did she have to flaunt, with us? She could have left us with the comforting perception that we were in control, that our decision to trust her mattered, but no, she had to show us it was just a game, for her.

Do I believe she told the truth, about the last of Lucius' attempt at breaking the law he should be the symbol of? Today, not anymore.

X

Tuesday, March 13

As I was saying, Marla is the one witch I will never fully understand. She seems to be frustrated by this fact, so she comes back to me, time and again, to explain herself. I wish I still had a Quick-Quotes Quill to record tonight's conversation.

She came over in the middle of the night, when he was asleep, I presume, and started talking about him.

'I bet you have no idea why Lucius almost died, after Hermione's sacrifice,' she begun, 'supposing you have given it a thought.' She was right: I never gave it a thought, I had no idea and I couldn't care less. So she clarified it to me, whether I liked it or not.

'He has always had it his way. All throughout his life he has been plotting, betraying, destroying anything and anyone perceived as an obstacle on his path, all the time absolutely sure, in his supreme arrogance, that things would turn out precisely the way he wanted. He had plans for Hermione; he was working around Voldemort, ready to turn against him at the first safe opportunity: that's why he was spying on the Order of the Phoenix and on you in particular well before you became his son-in-law.

'And then, in one flash, it was all gone. All his careful planning, in shambles. Not only that: it was his fault and yet Hermione sacrificed herself to save his life. The one thing beyond his comprehension. This is what crushed his very perception of reality and plunged him in that state of desperate lethargy.

'He lives to assert his power. As soon as he had recovered his health, he went back to his customary plotting. The last example? It was he who sent that pamphlet against him to so many households, right after the elections. He told me it was to bring out all the lingering doubts so many wizards still had, and have an official way to rebuff them while playing the 'unjustly accused', thus closing the matter once and for all.

'He married Narcissa hoping for a snake daughter. He probably paired off with Bellatrix for the same reason, but then they did not recognise Hermione's nature and abandoned her. Now he wants me, because I am what I am and he wants the power of Sharina at his fingertips. He doesn't see a gift if it bites him, because he can't grasp the concept of giving. I find this sad and utterly depressing.

'I will marry him. I will share the power of my legacy with him, make him understand what a gift is; because if he doesn't he will die, right there.

'Good night, Severus,' she concluded and left me here, more confused than ever.

She would disagree, if I told her, but I think she is in love with him.

X

Monday, April 2

One thing I can say about Pente: he is persistent. He is also surprisingly indifferent to his Lady's wishes, for being a servant of Sharina ...

He waited for the next full moon, which was tonight. He spent a lot of time practicing, I'm sure; it was going to be difficult, even for a snake Animagus, but he managed to learn it. Tonight, when Remus and his burglar-alarm were out of the picture, he returned to the hospital, transformed into a salamander, and then walked through Marla's fire shield. So far, so good. The problem arose when he transformed back, and immediately the flames grabbed him. An interesting kind of fire Marla had started, there: it didn't actually burn him, it only hurt like hell. I know all this because the first thing he had done upon arrival was to immobilize Madam Pomfrey who, therefore, watched his whole ordeal without being able to intervene. Thanks to a couple of first-years Slytherins, who got sick after drinking something they should not have touched and a comrade had brought back from Hogsmeade, eventually help was called.

Marla took her sweet time to come down and put out the fire - she was with Lucius as usual.

'I'm preoccupied,' she said, leaning over Dobby, 'he should be awake, by now.'

Meanwhile Pente was sprawled on the floor, still twitching and having troubles breathing. Former Death Eaters do not mind a little torture, now and then, for old-times' sake, dear Diary. I mean - God, I love it when he gets it!

Anyway, Marla had a reason to be worried: Dobby's wounds were not too severe. He seemed perfectly healthy, after over one month of cares, but was still in some kind of trance. So she decided to wake him up. Meanwhile the hospital wing was again quite crowded: Minerva had arrived, summoned by our nurse, I had called Luna and Lucius had also come down, exasperated as expected.

'You two have no business here: therefore, get out,' she snapped to Lucius and Pente, 'or Dobby will never tell us anything.' They were both obviously thinking something like 'wanna bet?' but did not reply. Instead, they both left, Lucius with a sneer and Pente with a few groans, when Madam Pomfrey helped him up and practically carried him out.

Next Marla woke Dobby, not very gently, I may add, and ordered him to tell us his story - without biting his tongue, she outlined. The poor thing was indescribably terrified. House-elves do not speak good English, not even when they are calm ... Minerva had to keep reminding him that she, as Headmistress, is his principal, now; she had to promise him abundant punishments - I will not try to describe her face, while she was doing so.

At any rate, this is what I was able to make out of Dobby's babbling:

He had told Marla about Lucius' enigmatic power-booster counting on a horrendous scolding, but also convinced that she was the only one who could stop his former Master from using it, whatever it was. When she did not do or say anything, coming back after Christmas, Dobby became certain that Lucius had successfully used it on her.

He remained at Hogwarts for a while, ever more undecided, but then his fears got the best of him and he run away, to Iceland - hell knows why. He wandered aimlessly, Apparating at the top of various volcanoes, which explains why his feet were so burned.

He didn't go in search of Fawkes: in an inconceivable stroke of luck, it was the Phoenix who found him, inside a crater, half dead of suffocation. Dobby doesn't remember telling the bird anything, but maybe he did, I don't know. Fact is, Fawkes carried him back. Why did he sing to Marla, that night, and why did he come back, to sing another song and offer his tears to her, is therefore still a mystery. Lucius and Pente are not going to be pleased, when Marla tells them what we found out from the elf. Like I care!

For the record, Marla assured Dobby that she is just fine, nobody is controlling her, least of all Lucius; she will be available to discipline him, every evening after dinner for as long as he feels like it, since Minerva is too old and tired, after a day's work. From the way she was grinning, I would go as far as stating she enjoyed playing the bad girl, for a change.

X

Tuesday, April 10

I don't recall having so much fun in ages. I'm afraid I awoke scores of cockroaches with my laughter, on the way back. This is why, dear Diary.

At breakfast, when the Daily Prophet got delivered, Minerva immediately started acting nervous, like she does every time she expects some fire at the table. She cautiously handed the paper over to Marla, and then waited ... With undivided attention she read her interview - one she never gave - while her eyes were flashing, for a change. We were all curious to see what would happen next, which colour the flames would take, but she did not burn the parchment; instead, she leisurely folded it and put it away in her pocket. That's when I decided I was not going to miss Lucius' visit for anything, tonight. After dinner, I floated down through the ceiling, squeezed my face between a pair of jars and waited. Not after long Lucius flew in. As usual, Marla was at her desk, writing; she probably knew I was there, but didn't seem to mind. She did not show any sign of noticing his arrival, either. Instead, she sent the morning paper gliding toward him, quite gracefully. Our Minister grabbed it in mid-air, deposited it back on her desk and started undressing, while casually asking her if she was busy.

'Yes,' she replied picking up the paper with a lot more energy than necessary, 'I'm busy - where is it - oh, here: '[...] My work as a teacher at Hogwarts is both fascinating and challenging. Nevertheless, I deem it just as important to carve as much time as possible out of my busy schedule to continue in my effort to bring to light as many unregistered Animagi as possible. [...]'

'Has it ever occurred to you that I would like to enunciate my ideas by myself? How I like it and when I like it?' She should have been shouting.

Meanwhile Lucius was still undressing, kind of slowly, his eyes fixed on her.

'You are busy, here at Hogwarts; that's why you do not have a feeling for the political winds. Now is the right time to bring out the revision of Animagi regulation, and that's the right way to do it.'

Marla was still holding the paper in her hands, without incinerating it. She resumed reading.

'[...] Our community as a whole is well aware of the risks, the real risks of unrestrained power. I am talking about the all too easy return of Lord Voldemort. That is the power we all must be afraid of and in constant watch for. We must join forces, all of us, including the so-called dangerous Animagi, in consolidating the foundations of our society, so that never again another Lord Voldemort will be able to appear at the horizon. We are all innocent until proven guilty, even a poisonous giant snake who can, when necessary, turn into a Basilisk - like myself. [...]'

'Were you out of your mind? Why did you have to tell them that? Doesn't Minerva have enough problems here, as it is, with a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor who can teach three weeks out of four, and a Potions Master who spends his free time engaged in the most illegal of practices, with his assistant and her animal-friend? When are you going to publicize all that as well?'

'I don't intend to - unless new developments of the political situation were to require it. Right now I can't see any advantage at ...' He stopped in the middle of the sentence because her eyes were flashing again, and I don't think he ever saw her doing that before. He moved closer and begun caressing her neck and under-chin with the back of his hand, like he does when she is a snake, in silence. Her eyes gradually returned to a normal dark-red, and she transformed.

'Severus is right: I think I am in love with you, after all,' she whispered. 'I care about you so much! That's why I'm going to do something I would never do to anybody - something I wouldn't have done not even to Voldemort.'

She coiled around him and started singing. She held him tight, but that was not the reason why he couldn't scream. She tuned Fawkes' song to his agony - because that song must be exactly calibrated, and she has a perfect feeling for that, if not for the political winds ...

X

Wednesday, April 11

Another day, another interview, another fire.

After last night, if Lucius doesn't get it, I can't imagine what could make him see the light. Or maybe it was too late to stop the press. When he left, this morning, he looked perfectly healthy. I just saw him flying in. Maybe he liked it; instead, I have not seen cousin Pente coming back for more ...

Who would have thought: Marla has a way with torture - she is not just a bird singing out of his instinct!

X

I am compelled to say, though, that this new Animagi regulation is a lot better than the previous one. Hell, I hate to say it!

X

Thursday, April 12

This morning, during class, one of the sixth-years asked Marla to show them what a Basilisk looks like. She was not a Slytherin. I'm using the past tense only because she did that this morning, not because she is no more ...

Marla transformed, showed them her Basilisk's eyes, and then kept them there for the remaining of the morning to listen to a lecture in Parsel. When a snotty Slytherin volunteered to translate she punished him - she hung him by his tongue to a chandelier- then serenely went on with her lesson till well past lunchtime.

X

Monday, April 16

Luna and I are back; we have classes in a few hours. Arnold remained at grandma's, he was too tired to take me, again. So I 'possessed' Luna, instead. This is an annoying peculiarity of being a ghost: I couldn't glide from the Black Forest all the way to Hogwarts; it would have taken me forever. It would not have been too safe either, since it has happened before that a ghost vanished, when travelling too far, too fast. I have to possess somebody and travel with him/her. Luna as a Thestral is a very warm place to be.

As I was saying, Luna decided we would go visit Grandma Elfriede, last Friday. She brought a large dosage of Polyjuice Potion with. When we arrived she told Grandma we had a surprise for her but, even so, she almost died of shock. She hugged me, crying, kissing me - I never saw her so out of control in my life. Arnold was very nearly petrified. She insisted we had lunch, when Luna said the transformation would last a few hours, and that was the only mistake we made. Thestrals are carnivorous; he hated the sauerkrauts, regardless of the fact that I enjoyed them more than I ever did before. As soon as he reverted to his normal self, he got sick. Grandma was so sorry; she pampered him, went into the woods and came back with a deer, to dispense him fresh blood. She was so nice; Arnold likes her a lot.

I'm trying my best at staying calm, concentrate on the next lesson I have to teach, but I can't. I got my body back. I ate my favourite dish, talked to Grandma Elfriede while sitting at the table, like I used to. Last time I did it, I was with Hermione. If I don't go mad this time, I probably never will.

There is a reason why it is so categorically banned, to do what we have been doing.

X

Friday, April 20

I should be happy to report that there has been an assassination attempt, were I not deep down convinced that our beloved Minister Malfoy faked it. Of course, had it succeeded, I would be happy to report it anyway.

He is here in Hogwarts, attended by Marla, whom else? It conveniently happened on a Friday night, so she will have the whole weekend to lovingly sing to him, without missing one single hour of teaching.

This is so second-rate! What kind of an idiot would organize it so lousily? But let's proceed with method. Every night, after dinner, Lucius either uses the Floo net or Apparates at the Three Broomsticks, retrieves his broom and flies to Marla's apartment. Everybody knows that. Tonight, as soon as he took off, someone hit him. He fell from the broom and was attacked again, while on the ground. He defended himself even though he was wounded, till Marla arrived. Their connection must be truly strong, if she picked up he was in troubles so quickly. She could detect three masked assailants, who promptly Disapparated as soon as they saw her. She brought him to the hospital ward right away. To be honest, he is in a pretty bad shape: if he arranged it himself, those fools surely overdid it. Perhaps it was not another one of his plots, maybe it was for real. Maybe next time the assassins will be more diligent and will not fail.

X

Monday, April 30

Lucius has finally left the infirmary. Minerva could have kicked him out earlier, she would have spared us lots of visitors who should not storm a school in full activity, distracting everyone, especially toward the end of the school-year. Apparently he did not want to be transferred to St Mungus, fearing another attempt at his life. Here, with Marla the Basilisk in the neighbourhood, no killer in his right mind would try anything against him.

X

Monday, May 7

We spent the weekend at grandma's, again. It is like a drug - I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. Arnold, neither. He is crazy about Luna, and this way he can caress her - with my hands, hear her voice ...

X

Tuesday, July 17

Our Minister Lucius Malfoy wed Lady Marla Lestrange-Klusmeyer last Saturday, July 14. There was a long piece, in the Daily Prophet, under their picture, taken of course before the ceremony. The reporter allowed himself the usual poetical licences, plus a notable number of omissions, as expected. What came out was strangely accurate, though. So, I won't have too much to rectify, in here.

I'm glad they took a picture while Marla was wearing that gorgeous dress. She always dresses so much like a librarian, in dull brown, all buttoned up; when I look at her I cannot help but wonder where she left her glasses ... but let's not stray - she doesn't wear glasses.

The ceremony took place at Malfoy's Manor. There was no need for a pavilion: the weather was clear and warm, a perfect summer evening. About 200 guests had been invited. We chatted and mingled till ten past eight, when Lucius walked out the ballroom. We followed him outside. He stopped in the middle of the front lawn, and Marla Apparated beside him. Few guests could avoid an oooh, when they saw her. She was wearing what appeared to be just a bunch of shining black veils, very artistically knotted and held together by small golden broaches. The fabric fluttered gently, in the light wind, giving away red flashes. She seemed surrounded by an unnaturally dark fire. She did not wear the golden snake to hide Sharina's pendant. Lucius turned to her and said:

'I offer myself to you.'

She took his left hand in hers, and pressed it over the pendant, answering:

'I accept you.'

She then touched the back of her hand with the wand, just like Bellatrix did when she joined Hermione and me, and pronounced the incantation. Except, it sounded different. She was not singing, but there was something else in it, I could not say what. The wind was blowing stronger, in the twilight, wrapping Lucius in the veils. They picked up more and more red, but it was not the reflection of the sun setting, this time it was fire. It burned around them, consumed his robe. The metallic decoration at the neckline melted, small drops of liquid silver trickled down his body, leaving red marks behind. He was looking at her straight in the eyes, incredulous, enchanted.

They joined there, standing, in front of everyone - the first time she made love to him as a woman - while the flames died out with the wind.

Luna came close and whispered: 'Please, would you come with us?'

We flew up, toward the sun, till the air was so cold and thin we could not breath anymore, then we plunged down, back into the night. Thestrals have sex that way, tumbling down, holding it to the last instant before crashing to the ground.

When we touched the warm and scented grass, to rest, to breath again, then I understood what was different. Through the ears of Arnold I recognized the humming, so strong as I never heard it before. It was coming from Marla, echoing in the earth; and there was another voice, interwoven with hers, coming from a tree: Fawkes was singing with her.

We all stood there, looking at them, listening to the song of love, till the morning came.

X

We've just come back to Hogwarts to pick up a few things. We are going to grandma's. Luna is writing her father she will spend the summer with us and it is taking her forever.

X

I keep thinking about them. When we left, quietly, without saying goodbye, Marla was sitting on the grass, her back against the pedestal of one of the statues, holding Lucius in her arms; half asleep, totally exhausted, he looked at peace with the world. The morning dew mixing with sweat over their bodies was shining in the light. Fawkes was still singing, to the rising sun, to a brighter future. I knew we had to go, to work on our future, whatever it will be.

X

Saturday, July 21

Luna wants to have children with us, lots of them. No problem, as far as Arnold goes. Thestrals reproduce only when they are at least 100 years old and he is still so young, he has time. With me, it is another story. When we set out to prepare the Polyjuice Potion we combed through all my things, to collect as much hair as possible. Then we brewed the potion, as much as we could make. Now, with what we have left, Arnold can transfigure one more time, for maybe three or four hours, and than that's it. We could not use more of my remains not even if I had a grave to reopen - it doesn't work with material taken from a dead body. I do not have a grave because they left my corpse at the cross, to rot and be consumed by scavengers. Not that I cared, then.

Anyway, it is now or never. I would like to have a child, with Luna. I don't know why, but I would like it very much.

Grandma is voicing a few quite reasonable objections none of us wants to hear. She is pointing out that I cannot marry Luna because I am dead, and Arnold cannot marry her either, because he is an animal. The use we have made of the Polyjuice Potion is as illegal as it can get - to have a child in this manner would be, in the mind of the majority, absolutely immoral. We lean toward not giving a damn about it. Luna would have to keep the father undeclared, and hope the child would not look too much like the late Professor Severus Snape. Supposing the potion is that good, which of course we have no way of knowing in advance. Also the fact that Arnold, in his natural shape, is not able to reproduce yet, could interfere. Unfortunately we cannot keep the potion for another seventy years or so: at that point Luna as a woman would be too old. This is a difficult decision.

Hermione used to write her doubts in her diary, then read back. I think of her, even now. The memory of her brings me warmth, tenderness. I'm sure she would be happy for me, for us. She is gone forever; I have no way of asking her blessings. I am dead, and I don't know where she went. I am a ghost, I never will. I still love her, because I can still love.

X

Tuesday, September 4

We are back in Hogwarts. Surprisingly little has changed: Luna and I still in charge of explaining how to poison someone only if you actually intend to; Remus still teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, in the hope none of his students will need it; Trelawney and Firenze still presenting their so utterly diverging views of Divination and fighting over it, in loving memory of Professor Dumbledore; Marla still teaching Transfiguration, even though she will not be able to show her sleek body to the first-years till after Christmas.

Animagi cannot transform, when they are pregnant. Of course, over the centuries, Sharina's Daughters have found a way to shorten the gestation to five months, to minimize the amount of time they have to spend stuck in a human body, without the ability to curse to their full potential ... Instead, Luna and I will have to wait till the end of April to find out if our child will be born with wings or not. So far, all seems to be normal. I must not worry about it, there is nothing to do except wait, now.

X

Wednesday, September 12

Kayala is dead. She died of old age, thanks to that bastard of Francisco de Montcauvé. Karen tried all she could think, but to no avail.

Her conditions began worsening in late July. She was already edgy at the ceremony. I remember that she wanted Pente to transform, but he was distraught, he didn't want to mate. So she ripped his robe off, bit him a few times, ended up mating anyway in a brutal, forced manner, in deep contrast with the harmony everyone else was experiencing. From then on she quickly deteriorated, both physically and mentally. She became extremely weak, which was good, because she was at the same time uncontrollably violent.

X

I don't want to attend any more funerals at Malfoy's Manor.

What am I saying? I am a ghost, I will see all of them go.

I don't want to think about it.

X

Saturday, December 22

There is only one page left but I don't have anything more to say, not in here.

I will give this diary to Marla, together with Hermione's, for Christmas. I hope she will read them, to remember. I will not say 'forever', because nothing lasts forever, not even memories. I will be happy enough if she passes them on to the next generation. It is too easy to forget, and then make the same mistakes again. We must not put behind us what we went through, when we laid the foundations of our new common wealth. It is far from perfect. There will be changes, for better and for worse. I will be here and will continue to play my role, fulfil my destiny - for myself and my children, for everyone who is not with us anymore.

++++++ ++++++ ++++++

Thank you, Severus.

Yes, I will read them, now and then. I will make sure others read them too, wizards as well as Muggles. I will read them to my daughter, when old enough to understand, to learn from them. She is not a snake, but still carries Sharina's curse in her veins. We named her Aamu because she is our hope, the morning of our life together. She has Lucius' eyes. When I look into them, so luminous and pure, without shadows, I know there can be a future. I know it will be beautiful.