"It's really a wonder that I haven't dropped all my ideals, because they seem so absurd and impossible to carry out. Yet I keep them, because in spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart."
-Anne Frank
June 16th, 1942.
Dear Journal,
Mother got me you for my birthday, the last time she was in London before the Germans started the raids. I want to cherish you, paper is precious after all, as is ink, but Mother says to use you, to fill you with drawings and notes. So I shall.
I'm not sure exactly who I'm writing too, that's why your name is 'Journal', but I'll think of a name for you, something fitting. You'll be my friend, Journal.
My name is Albus Percival Wulfrick Brian Dumbledore. I know, awful name. Mother says it was father's idea, which doesn't surprise me. He was always filled with bad ideas. I have two younger siblings, Aberforth and Ariana. Aberforth and I don't really get along, I can barely stand him actually, and Ariana is always sick in bed that I never get to see her.
I'm not exactly alone, I have a few friends in Godric's Hallow, but with the bombs falling every hour it seems that I am lonelier than ever. We spend a lot of time hiding in the bomb shelter whenever the church bell rings. We have our own private one, in the garden, and I get so frightened while Mum calms Ariana and Aberforth. It's because I'm the oldest, I think, I have to be strong unlike Father, but I just get so scared it's hard. I get so nervous, Journal, I'm happy to have you.
I think I'll stop here for now, even though I haven't told you nearly enough about myself. Goodbye Journal.
Albus
June 21st, 1942.
Dear Journal,
I still haven't thought of a good name for you! Isn't that awful?
I've decided to continue talking about myself. I'm currently thirteen years old. I guess you could consider me a prodigy. Mother's always bragging to the ladies at Church about my aptitude in my maths and English and history, and how I've learned many languages and that I'm now studying alchemy. I hate it when she does that, I always get so embarrassed. I'm not that special, Journal, I wish she'd stop.
I live in Godric's Hallow, a small town that's very beautiful. There's nothing much to say about it, except some of the people are a little strange. Like our neighbours for example.
Our closest neighbour is Bathilda Bagshot, and she's a little strange. In a good way, of course, she always gives me treats whenever I visit her. She used to live by herself except about a week ago her nephew moved in. I don't like him very much.
His name's Gellert Grindelwald and he is from Germany, and he's probably the rudest person I've ever met. I know that not all Germans are bad. But Gellert has been so obnoxious, when I came over to introduce myself he just scowled and told me to bug off! The nerve! I hate him. I've decided I'm going to hate him.
I'm sorry, Journal. I didn't mean to complain.
Albus
June 23rd, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
Do you like your new name? I thought of it after I went bird watching today and I rather like it. It suits you!
Today there was another air raid, but instead of my family by ourselves in the bomb shelter, for some reason Gellert and Bathilda were with us. He was just as cold as usual, and I tried to ignore him, even though the space was very small and he was sitting next to me.
Most of the girls in the village think he's attractive, and I have no idea why. He has blue eyes much like my own and blond hair, which might make him handsome if it wasn't combined with his nasty attitude. I don't understand why they are all giggling about him.
Speaking of which, maybe I should tell you more about me? I'll just do it every entry, how about that?
I have red hair, blue eyes, and freckles. My favourite colour is blue. I don't particularly like almonds but I like hazelnuts. Sometimes Abe and I go fishing together, but a lot of the time I read and get ahead in my schoolwork.
See you soon, Fawkes.
Albus
July 1st. 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
We hid in the shelter during the night, because there were sounds of large motors hovering over us and no one could tell whether or not they were friendly. Luckily I was able to grab you while Mother hurried us out of bed, so I'm able to take comfort in you while Mother runs to the kitchen to grab some more candles and to make sure no one took any of our China during the raid.
Bathilda and Gellert are with us again, Bathilda talking to Ariana and showing her some things to sew, and Abe was reading one of Father's old books that we stored in the bunker.
Gellert, oddly enough, is asleep. He looks rather uncomfortable leaning against the wall; I'd help him if he wasn't such a crass person. He's nice to everyone but me, I noticed, and I'm rather annoyed as I can't figure out why.
We haven't gotten much notice from the papers about what's going on in the war; the last we heard was about the Thousand Bombings, which was nearly a week ago.
I'm not sure when the war will be over. I'm planning on enlisting if it continues on when I'm older. Mother will have a fit, but I just want this to stop.
Goodbye Fawkes,
Albus
P.S. I have an obsession with sweets, I love all of them. Spicy, sour, extra sweet, I eat them.
July 15th, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
Besides from a failed American bombing mission, there hasn't been anything new or exciting about the war. Mother seems rather happy about this, although Abe and I can't understand why. News means that something is going on, rather than just stalling, but it makes Mother happy so neither of us say anything.
Today Gellert came over to drop off some cookies from Bathilda, and Mother made me escort him back him so I could personally give Bathilda my family's thanks, which is a bit ridiculous. It was awkward to say the least; neither of us really said anything. We don't talk to each other unless we have to. I was so happy to be able to talk to Bathilda and then leave. At least he didn't ignore me this time, or give me the stink eye, that would have been horrible.
Albus
P.S. I'm not really sure if I want to get married, I mean, my mother wants me to but I don't like any of the girls in town.
July 28th, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
Mother has been keeping this from me, but the Germans have been taking all their Jewish prisoners and murdering them. Thousands, millions of people, killed because of their religion. I saw in the newspaper today that they've been gassing them, or shooting them into mass graves, liquefying them, slaughtering them- Fawkes, I think I'm going to be sick, I can't handle this. Why would they do that? Why?
I didn't know why this war really started, only that it was a fight against people having different rights because of being of a different religion, but what they're doing is unhuman, it's despicable, it's everything in the word of wrong.
How could they do that to people?
Albus
P.S. I've decided I hate 'the greater good', or whatever they're calling it now. It's not right.
August 4th, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
I asked Gellert why he left Germany today and he seemed angry. He said it was none of my business and to butt out, but I wanted to know, and I kept pushing him, and now he hates me more than ever and I feel so awful. I think I brought up bad memories, and if this is the reason why he's been so rude then I forgive him.
Ever since I found out that the Axis was killing innocent people, I would like to say that I've done something of importance, but I haven't. I've been rather numb. I feel like I know these people that they're deporting to these 'Concentration Camps', as they've started to become called, and I'm not doing anything of importance to help them, which is ridiculous because I don't know these people, and what would I be able to do? I'm too young to do anything, to useless to help. Mother would never let me get a job to clear railways or something. I'm just sitting here watching the world from a safe distance, and I should be happy about that I guess but I'm not.
I'm not making any sense, Fawkes, but I'm not hungry anymore and I'm weak and useless and I can't do anything. Those people in the Camps are doing more than I am, staying alive, fighting for their freedom, and I want to tell them I care and that I'll find a way to help them, but I can't find a way.
I'm just a useless sympathizer. Sympathizing doesn't get you anywhere.
Albus
P.S. Maybe I've been too hard on Gellert.
August 11th, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
Abe gave me an idea to help support the war, and right now I feel as if I could hug him, which he would no doubt not appreciate.
I'm going to donate all the money I've earned towards the fund to help save the Camp prisoners. I've been saving it for University, but I doubt there's going to be a time when I'll ever go to University. It seems much like a dream, when I think about it.
Mother will be angry when she learns, but it's too late now. I've already given it to the postmaster, who will then give it to the fund.
I finally feel like I'm doing something, Fawkes. I'm happy.
Gellert has started to warm up to me again, or at least, I think he has. He's not glaring at me anymore, and he even said 'Hello' to me! Progress is slow but coming in my life, and I'm happy to see it moving.
Albus
P.S. Gellert's been looking at me strangely lately, I don't know why, but it makes me blush and walk faster whenever I catch him. What am I so embarrassed about? Oh no, I'm flushing just thinking about it. Why am I doing this, Fawkes?
August 23rd, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
Winston Churchill, the one who everyone is looking towards for help during the war, has arrived back in England. Despite the grimness of it, it seems like everyone is celebrating because he's managed to create some treaties and alliances with other countries. Apparently some of South America is going to help fight and send forces! Isn't that great?
Mother found out that I sent my University fund to help the war efforts, and she yelled at me until I explained why I did it. She said there was no reason for me to give up my future, and I told her that there was no future with the war.
She isn't talking to me. Abe said I sounded a lot like Father at that moment. Usually I can't stand hearing about Father, he's rotting away in prison at the moment, but for once I was proud of him, to be his son, if he defended other people like that.
Albus
P.S. Gellert and I actually managed a small conversation today, a simple 'hello how are you' one, but now that he's being slightly civil towards me I like him a lot better. I even got him to smile, which is something no one has ever seen him do, and I feel rather proud of myself.
October 12th, 1942.
Dear Fawkes,
It's been months since I have written in you, and so much has happened since.
I'm sorry to have lost you, I didn't actually lose you, Abe stuck you in one of Father's books in the bunker and I haven't been able to find you until now.
I guess I should start with myself first.
Ariana has finally died, and my mother not soon after.
I am fourteen years old and I take care of the house by myself. Abe has moved away to a boarding school, one that father went to, to keep him safe. I am a thousand times lonelier then I was before, Fawkes, and I don't understand how I survived without you all those months.
Then we have Gellert.
It's funny in the beginning how I would always rant to you about how much I hated him, and now I wish I could spend hours in his company.
He's been deported for Germany at the German Army's insistence, to complete his father's punishment, which was to be part of the army until the war ended. His father had fled a few weeks ago, only to be caught and shot in the head. His mother had already been killed, by a stray bullet sometime during the beginning of the war. He was sent to England to keep him safe, and yet now he's gone straight to the heart of the enemy and I wish for him to be safe.
Our relationship has very much improved, Fawkes, and he was my closest friend before he left. Although, he wasn't too much of a friend.
Sometime during your stay in the bunker, he kissed me, and I kissed him back, and it's so taboo Fawkes yet I felt so happy with him during those weeks. He was so kind and funny, he made me forget about the war and focus on his blue eyes, and I'd tangle my fingers in his hair trying to tame it during moments like those.
…I'm terrified for him, Fawkes. He's been taken to one of the concentration camps. I don't know how they learned, but after a few weeks he was shipped off.
Homosexual relationships aren't approved, Fawkes, and he's going through Hell right now, he's only sixteen and I'm so scared I can't write straight.
Everyone I love is gone, Fawkes, gone or dead or worse.
The war is chaotic and mad. I hate it. I hate war. I hate the good and bad that people associate with it.
I'm so alone, Fawkes, I'm as good as dead.
Albus
Gellert Grindelwald was one of the bodies identified in a mass grave in Treblinka.
Ariana and Kendra Dumbledore are buried in Godric's Hallow Cemetery.
Percival Dumbledore died two years after his wife and daughter, his body was buried in the prison's cemetery.
Aberforth Dumbledore died after he enlisted in the British Army and was killed after a rogue grenade blew up his railroad car.
Albus Dumbledore went on to become a general in the British Army only to be killed by a German General on the battlefield.
…I swear I'm not evil.
I don't own Harry Potter.
Using crass, aptitude, and history.