January 11th 2009, Full Moon
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Britain

In the past seven hours, I have traveled near 587 miles via international floo and apparition, and seven hours and ten minutes prior to now, I had not even considered it. Crisis and fear somewhat clarifies the mind, in that it reawakens the primeval base instincts, the sheer animal within each of us that we try hard to avoid embracing.

Needless to say, my most clever plan backfired, due to the expected weak link - our dear Ministry. Such incredible bureaucratic inability to form a suitable criminal investigation, I should not have been surprised they failed to note all the carefully placed evidence for ease of conviction. Merlin knows I spent a while unpicking the routes and instructions in three different languages! No doubt the seniors are all too happy to continue the custom of the hallucinogenic trade for their own delight.

Everything went beautifully until I had some late night callers who were not there to sell me sweets or beg of me to donate to charity. Alas, my arrogance to consider they wouldn't call, a catastrophic error that I curse upon now. I grasped what I could from the place, though I shall be most sad if I hear from family that they have torched my extensive library of foreign letters. I'd almost have stayed and sacrificed myself if I knew they would for certain. There is little point wondering now, I am sure I will hear soon enough, via my most generous cousin.

Ah yes, Ignan. Having fled the country in such a rush, I could think of no other suitable assistance than my uncle Merik's son. I always knew he'd also inherited the family intelligence, though had taken it to rather more military pursuits. He'd been teaching at Durmstrangs for a while, but decided to come to England only a few months before, he had told me at Christmas. Some sentimental reasons my mother had indicated. If it was the cold causing his limp, it most certainly has not been helped here with such damp cold in winter!

Thankfully he was not too displeased with the sudden demand for accommodation, though its been made very clear my stay is only a night, or I might be able to extend it slightly - depending on if I can be of use to him. Where there is a will, there is always a way.

We met in a quaint little village nearby to the school, which I hope to explore and appreciate a little better in the daytime rather than the moonlight, and under less stressful situations. The castle - for what I have seen of it is everything as described. Even the smell of it is rich! Ignan has a modest set of rooms within the castle aside from his teaching areas and academic office, which I was pleased to find is well stocked with Ogden's firewhiskey.

As there are classes in the morning, my cousin has retired to bed at this hour, and I am, understandably, unable to sleep for the thoughts in my head. I thought to complete the crossword on a newspaper discarded on Ignan's table, though I found he had already completed it, much to my dismay. Anything to distract myself from my own abject failure to account for everything that occurred less than eight hours ago.

I doubt I will be able to return to Germany for a while at least, so I might as well consider what I should do with myself here. At least the British Ministry is respected for its strong moral suit, and high standards of criminal investigation. Germany should take note. I may be able to seek asylum of sorts, if there be any problems with my long term stay or for seeking gainful employment. Now there's a thought - I'm sure to find a post suitable at the Ministry. Even if I have to sit and irritate them in as many languages as I can utter for three days unbroken!

This chair seems comfortable enough. Perhaps I might sleep a while, and wake to wander the castle before my cousin rises.

Monday January 12th 2009
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Britain

How quickly the fates do change. I am sat here on borrowed time, knowing I cannot go anywhere else at this moment.

I spent today setting out the feel of the land, the economic situation, the figures and people within it. Ignan keeps a stack of Daily Prophets (all with their crosswords completed, Merlin damn him!) to approximately a week before burning them. They were most informative in the lay of the land and what has been occurring in Britain lately. Meanwhile, my cousin went out to teach, in a fiendishly bad mood, after arranging for a house elf to bring us both something to eat.

Gleaning all I wanted, I decided to monopolise my time in the castle with a little exploration. Last night the building was dark and full of shadows, but in the grey daylight of January, it was rather more inviting. Hogwarts school is impressive, and vast. The structure is almost organic, changeable. For this reason, its become one of the few places I can genuinely admit to having been lost in. Portraits are not to be trusted either.

Thankfully I did chance upon someone who could help. The school employs a counselor, a friendly ear to students, and I would imagine, staff. Ignan mentioned such and his low opinion of the practice the previous evening, but I must admit Ariana Wickwood in person is a most charming and astute witch. I also had the pleasure in meeting the famous Xiomara Hooch, who I later read up to be attributed in the thanks of hundreds of British Quidditch players through the years, as the long suffering Quidditch Mistress at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she rather adopted the stance of a watchdog with me, and my unattended wandering in the castle was not permitted, not that I knew.

Despite spending some pleasant time with Ms Wickwood, I was eventually returned, like a lost dog, to my cousin's chambers. He had unfortunately caught wind of Hooch's indignation about me wandering alone, and spelled out succinctly and hotly that I had much outstayed my welcome already. His incredibly bad mood that morning, combined with this very short tempered reaction this evening, and what I had overheard during my slope round the castle added up neatly. Unfortunately, I'm not the best at sympathising with older family members over the fact they had been undermined by their own students.

So, I shall be gone in the morning. I have a plan, though.

Tuesday January 13th 2009
Vasily's Lodgings, Hogsmeade Village, Britain

It has been a particularly long day today. I left Hogwarts very early in the morning before Ignan woke up, and made my way down to London, to the British Ministry. They have a quaint little telephone box as a visitor's entrance, which descends into a most impressive atrium. I suspected I hadn't arrived early enough when I noticed how busy the Ministry already was. This is encouraging for later.

I was requested to present my wand for examination to a witch who logs all the visitors, and directed me to lifts at the end of the atrium. This was where my day began to go very wrong, as the lift broke down. I heard that the wizards tasked with maintaining all magical machinery are threatening to strike, so the malfunction was probably malicious. Either way, I made somewhat pleasant acquaintances with an Asian translator, Yoona Yoo, and somewhat unpleasant acquaintances with Kurby Bagnold, who captures werewolves.

Once released, thankfully, (I believe Bagnold would have killed me with his bare hands if left another ten minutes) I made my way to the Department for International Magical Co-Operation. Where, being me, I made a nuisance of myself, gleaning much about everyone in the department and meeting one of the most intolerable imbeciles life has to offer, Kadyn Hamilton, Member of the Magical Trading Standards Body. I look forward to torturing him and his narrow mind on a daily basis from now on until I can track down Gabrielle - who evaded me today.

I gave up eventually, because I was about to get thrown out, and I had other fish to fry, as they say over here. Ignan had let slip last night that Vasily was in Hogsmeade, and had been ditched over here under Ignan's watchful eye to pull his neck back in and do some hard graft. Vasily was forever getting in trouble at school I recall from family tales, and besmirched the family name by being a dreg for some of it at least, I'm sure. Not that us Storms are up ourselves over academic achievement, or anything.

Vasily was to be found at the Three Broomsticks pub, which indeed was where I found him, and food. I'd forgotten about eating again. This isn't unusual. He was in fine form, looks very well, and has given me lodgings for the night as I write. Nothing fabulous, apparently his parents won't stretch to anything to get him on his feet, and I'm absolutely no help at the moment with no money either. Can't draw any out here from home, quite a mess. Need Ignan's help with that, and its not pretty at the moment between us given how last night went.

Anyhow, Vasily was working for the pub rather than propping up the bar, which is probably the best place, considering he's got a fine pair of fists that find people's faces easily I hear. At least he can use them to get rid of bad patrons.

However, met a rather fine patron in an author, Dolly St James. Charming woman, not quite an airhead one might expect given her subject matter (romantic fiction I believe - actually the old bat with the cats who owns this place had a copy on her shelves which I've lifted for a skim.) No wonder Vasily almost killed himself laughing when I asked the nature of a fanny powderer on the way back here.

Actually, he said a lot more about Dolly on the way home. Apparently has the misguided belief that she had some sort of romantic interest in me, which is completely insane. She was most certainly more interested in him.

I think I'll read some of Dolly's book and get up and go to London by dawn. Doubt I'll sleep at all. Again.

Wednesday January 14th 2009
Vasily's Lodgings, Hogsmeade Village, Britain

Well that was easier than expected.

Sometimes extended family are more than worth their weight in gold, even if its a part time position, and I have to spend time with interns.

I think they'll hate it more than I will.

Not sure I can stand another night of this, must go to Gringotts first thing tomorrow and get some money sorted out. Vasily's kind hospitality or nothing, this place reeks of cat urine...!

Thursday January 15th 2009
Vasily's Lodgings, Hogsmeade Village, Britain

My attempts to catch up with old friends and integrate in Britain are going rather well. I wonder why I didn't think of doing this before, in complete honesty. Ignan had the right idea getting away from Germany.

Tonight, I spent the evening with Juliette Vaillancourt, who I worked with before she became the object of student crushes (or so she implied) as the Hogwarts potions professor. She is still very much the woman I remember, and moreso. It was good to speak with her finally without our colleague at the perfume house hovering, gripped with the inability to string a sentence together in Juliette's presence. Perhaps I took advantage of that, its good sport. Sometimes not ever having those complicated emotions which foil every other man around me allows a healthy advantage.

The fact came up in conversation, as it does so often now. If it isn't my family (though I think my mother has begun to give up, and my father has started asking curious questions about the possibility I am better friends with men - honestly, I get on equally well on a social basis with both, possibly better with women given my recent interactions, what does it matter which gender I am friends with?) ... If it isn't my family, its friends, as there is an abundance of settling down, children and marriage. So, naturally, they feel obliged to inflict that on everyone else, which I attempt to avoid discussing before my brain melts out of my ears.

As I told Jueliette, I believe the correct terms for setting up such a partnership are 'loving', 'caring' and 'supportive', none of those are applied to me by others on a regular basis. Rather 'inattentive', 'untidy' and 'distant' followed by 'irritating'.

The evening concluded with a proper tour of Hogwarts. This time, no flying instructor insisting on me being escorted to Ignan by the councillor. Instead, Juliette's warm and good humoured company, something I enjoy and seek more of in future.

Thread Reference

Sunday January 18th 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

Since last writing, I have resolved my rather troublesome financial difficulties with Gringotts and the bank back home. Not the best of exchange rates, I did hurry them, goblins dislike that. But that is besides the point when I am now assured a wage from the Ministry in local currency.

Speaking of the Ministry, I have already put in some time learning their ways and learning faces. By the time I start next week, I am confident I will be able to pick up very close to speed of my colleagues, which is ideal. Whether they will agree is an entirely different matter, Hamilton has firmly decided to muddy my name. Fine, well, the sport will begin.

Friday afternoon was mostly preoccupied with translating documentation for the trading standards office about the layers of incantations on a new self-preparing teapot. It grew legs and arms, opened the tea container to set itself up, and also climbed into the sink at the end to wash itself. Only there had been some reports that several teapots had not been opening tea to make their brews, but were rather partial to anything of value they could stuff in their pots, before waddling to the nearest open door. Hamilton was fiendishly unhelpful given he's responsible for such things.

Yesterday evening Ignan and I settled our differences, though he brought company in the form of Tapendra Trishna, who I was most intrigued to meet. Turns out the man enjoys a drink, and is a most unconventional friend of my cousin's. He teaches at Hogwarts, and I also met Cillian Cuthbert, the Divination Professor, who appeared not to be quite so familiar with his colleagues, but had been propping up the bar for some time before they arrived.

I'm always a little uneasy around seers and sceptical of them. Something puts me off anyone trying to predict my future. I'd rather not know what was coming. The thought that someone can predict the future puts me on edge. Its not a reflection on their personalities, just a personal wish to protect my own future as entirely private. Its worse than legilmency, because that's about what's past and what you're privy to personally. Seeing someone's future is horrifically intrusive, because the person in question hasn't seen it yet - and has to wait to live it.

By the time Gabrielle turned up, the three Professors were worse for wear, and eventually left before they couldn't make it back. Ignan left his gloves, which we picked up. Gabrielle had kindly offered me to move in with her, rather than staying on Vasily's floor indefinitely. I can confirm the lodgings are infinitely improved over the previous two places I've stopped over so far in Britain.

Several entries of matters relating to the way the Ministry works, people he meets along the way, reports in the Daily Prophet are entered between days written out in full during this thread.

The journal is also littered with scraps of parchment and odd little scribbles and corrections in different languages where Johann writes phrases and rephrases them thoughtfully from translations.

Infrequently there are stickman doodlings of Kaydn Hamilton meeting sticky ends which are crude and child-like.

Friday January 23rd 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

....

... Sometimes its quite intriguing the way my colleagues are selective in assignments they take on. No excitement shown over a puzzle at all, just happy to translate documents in such a routine way. If it was not for the little requests from other departments for advice, I think I would cause more mischief out of being bored - even as a part time employee of the Ministry. I probably finish my assigned tasks in half the time my colleagues do, even if they are not purposely stringing out the tasks to avoid taking more on. That's another thing that confuses me - why do people want to appear inefficient when there are limited budgets and they may lose their posts...?

My short time with Doctor Bombay proved far more interesting, decoding tattoo artwork upon a late wizard who had come to the attention of the Magical Law Enforcement Department, which incidentally, is full of aurors who believe they are far more clever than they ever will be, and half as observant as they should be. Some of them apparently make me look humble, rather than arrogant, which I understand is a minor miracle. I am sure those who believe that are merely jealous of their lack of talent.

Bombay keeps a remarkably tidy ship for which I admire. I do hope to work with the good Doctor again soon.

Thread Reference

Wednesday January 28th 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

Thirty-three.

Trente-Trois, Trentatrè, Treizeci şi trei, Treinta y Tres, Trinta e Três.

Gabrielle, Ignan and Vasily took me out for dinner, apparently to celebrate that I had survived another year without getting myself killed.

Its hard to tell if it was meant in jest, or as a compliment.

February 10th

…

Seems I’m to be given the responsibility of supervising some of the Departments interns. I suppose for my sins, I’m the one who can’t claim they’re always busy, but that’s only because my colleagues work so slowly. One is still at Hogwarts so Gabrielle informs me I’m to meet her on certain weekends and introduce her to the Department in more unconventional means of culture and experience. Ignan wrote “If she wasn’t saying that to you, I’d be worried she was encouraging her staff to run off with teenage girls.” in response to my last letter.

I suspect this might be why I’ve also been invited to the Hogwarts dance this weekend.

Thread Reference

February 13th

…

There’s a funny little place in Hogsmeade called Madam Puddifoots. Full of couples who can’t take their eyes off each other like they’ve been bewitched.

Thread Reference
 
February 15th

Adelia Delacroix is a glorious young woman, and I have no hesitation in saying we’ll get along famously.

Thread Reference

February 23rd

Be bored no longer, Johann Storm! A client, in Britain, and to pay very well. Not a bad exchange for being late into the office.

Thread Reference

1st March 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

Architects aren't all that bad, I've decided. Most of today was spent settling in and being pleasant to Maarten Bergen. Nobody seemed to jump at the chance to welcome him, given that his wife, who is a full veela, wasn't travelling with him. Apparently she's a looker, not that it matters to me.

We had a good evening in the Leaky Cauldron, and I managed to build quite a rapport. I'll never be able to afford anything he designs, he's most sought after, and its no wonder, some of his designs are breathtaking and baffling. Some of them defy logic even with magic clearly keeping the strands together. He keeps a portfolio of photographs with him, and even drew some examples out to better illustrate. He is a man of designs, I am of languages, though we were both fascinated by each other's craft.

Unfortunately I had a pre-arranged meeting with V and with things going so well between Bergen and I, it was hard to extract myself from the Leaky Cauldron without seeming too impolite. Our meeting at his home then revealed a new twist to my assignment from Gabrielle, and I have tonight to work out what to do. Sell a Diagon Alley house to Bergen, or enable V to purchase it instead?

Thread Reference: A Convenient Coincidence

2nd March 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

To my surprise this morning, I have been assigned another intern, this time a younger man of the name Schlagenweit. Hamilton ensured we got off on the wrong foot by withholding the information, and I was already running late. Altogether an awful setting for what turned out to be a rather useful day. Bergen didn't want the house, I did my best to put him off it. V will have full access to his best price, and that will put me in a favourable light again - I could do with the extra money from his work, as part time with the Ministry only pays so much.

Schlagenweit to his credit kept out of the way and towed the line. Bergen was particularly fond of him. However, I dislike being saddled with other young people to take with me like this. Between Schlagenweit and Bergen, I can't help feeling my presence here with Gabrielle is being monopolised upon.

Thread Reference: A Plot Worthy Investment, Praise be the Intern

6th March 2009
Gabrielle's Home, Wiltshire, Britain

V is happy, Tapendra is happy, and even Ignan is happy. I'm not, but that's no revelation.

I spent a long evening at Hogwarts to celebrate Ignan's new friend's birthday. Managed to scrape together a present, and even met the man's younger sister, she's quite an accomplished painter. The most intriguing member of the party was Georg though. He was the man Ignan travelled with for a decade, and now teaches Charms for Hogwarts. He's quite tight lipped about things other than the odd adventure story, and quips about women. It adds a lot of colour to the disappearance from the family for those years.

V has got his house, everything went through, and he was very happy for my assistance in the matter. Nobody seems the wiser for the influence, which is exactly as I wished. I've got yet more work to do, so this month may be healthier on my bank balance at Gringotts.

This weekend I'm to meet Addie again, she's tasked with choosing somewhere for us to visit, which I'm rather looking forward to.

Thread Reference: There is nothing quite so loyal as a dog, Only Celebrate Birthdays When You're Young, Like Tapendra

24th January 2010
Colin's flat, London

Merlin, I lost this journal with moving from Gabrielle's, but how coincidental I find it 10 months later. How different life is.

Thread Reference for earlier that evening

a few pages have been torn out, and then...

Who am I to judge
When you offer me this chance
When you chuckle at my poor humour
When you speak of dark things we may share?

Who am I to judge
The healer who steps outside of convention
The badger whose coiffeur turns heads
The prisoner who keeps his sister locked in his mind?

Who am I to judge
I dope myself to dull the reality I keenly perceive
I facilitate crime to quell my own boredom
I lack common sense by a country mile

Who am I to judge
When imperfection is but human nature
When I cannot take my eyes from you
When you pervade the dreams that slip through the cracks?

I refuse to judge.
I will listen
I will wait
I will return the favour

Even if you defy the need
I'll find it hard not to sit by your side
Raising glasses to our questionable health

25th January 2010
Colin's flat, London

Must stop drinking so much. Potions and drink.


I can't keep waking up feeling like this and reading that!

January 25th 2010
Colin's Flat, late night, intoxicated

I know a man who I meet in the belly of the house. The house is no quotidian house, but the one that casts an aberrant motility upon my skin, that seems inauspicious on January nights, though I know its just my mind that lengthens the shadows and deepens the pitch.

This man, my assignation in the belly of the potentially pernicious but otherwise ordinary house is a man whose mind appeases mine. It moves at a tempo that is gratifying, and our endeavour is subsequently harmonious - a carillon that entertains our common employer.

The man moves with dexterity and scrutiny, precise in all his actions, yet poetic in each stroke of his wand and incantation upon his silver tongue. He receives my translations and adds deeper interpretation and draws upon a repository of his meticulous research.

That man doesn't flinch when I quail behind him as spells flare the air, and the skin upon our willing guinea pig furunucles. He does not appreciate my conscience of the miscalculation which I feel entirely incumbent with - the dreams of that cell I can only censor with what I must cease.

My man instead returns to the text, presses onwards, he urges expedite calculation, to not falter, to not think upon the consequences. Like my own mind, he cannot rest until he finds answers, however dark this magic deplanes.

I'll only descend to the belly of the hell house with that man, I cannot prevent myself from the bewitchment of his gaze, the need to complete the work. He knows this, despite my shortcomings, he insists on our time, and our employer persists our progress.

The man has my greatest attention, my word and my silence. He alone unlocks it.

January 26th 2010
Colin's Flat, morning

Hide drink, potion, quills and ink.
Yet another terrifying dream of LM in the room that brought me awake in tears. Dreaming is worse than long silent nights awake.
Hope Colin didn't hear, I muffled my face in my pillows but in this state - is it possible to cry while in slumber?
Perhaps I should ask AH, he may know.
I can't do this - I can't go without. Not if this is what happens, I have no control.
I hope LM has no idea this is what I think.
Its frightful enough to read as the author.

January 29th 2010

Genuinely, beautifully and gratefully exhausted. I didn't expect to be abroad working out court terminology on my birthday with Kuester, but at least we survived and I got home in time to get gloriously drunk in the Leaky Cauldron. Hangover was entirely worth it.

Thank goodness it is Friday, and I'm home. The weekend is ahead, and still much to look forward to, more friends to see.

A few of the gifts received this year:

Chessboard, reservations at Ramsley's from Aisling and family
Subscription to Wizarding Geographic for a year from Ignan
Alternative sleeping aides from Elixa
Surprising number of food related things, cheese, drink, whatnot.

I hadn't anticipated gifts at all, so that has been rather fortunate. There's been a card from my mother, but not signed by my father. I suspect he doesn't even know she sent it, or rather I hope he doesn't.

Colin's away this weekend, full moon. I better walk the dog before I'm too tired to move.

I say walk the dog. Some Muggle woman laughed at me the other day and suggested the dog was taking me for a walk. When I suggested it was lucky I didn't own a dragon, she just laughed at me and went on her way. Wonder if I can train the dog to pee on such people. Wonder if Colin would find that funny.



There is a smudge on the corner where the dog has interrupted to lick Johann's hand to hurry him up.