I touched the tip of my wand to my head and then drew out a shimmering silver thought, which I placed into the Pensieve with all the others swirling dizzyingly there. My Pensieve is one of my few wizarding instruments which are actually of use to me, although today I wished it could do more than just hold my memories. Today I wished it could erase them.
Today had been a highly tedious day of meetings with Cornelius Fudge. The man is not only insufferably pompous, but lacking in any sort of leadership. The news that the Dark Lord had returned has filled him with terror, but not for the future of wizardkind. No, Cornelius fears most being deposed by the Ministry, and it is this I cannot forgive. Especially since the first victim openly claimed by the Death Eaters was someone whose death hurts not only them, and I myself, but also others whose wellbeing is very dear to me.
It has been now four days since Sirius Black fell through the Veil of the Department of Mysteries. My own guilt in this makes it very difficult for me to think clearly, and seeing the impact this has had on others only makes it harder to bear. But I must look past this, especially since it is partly - wholly? - my own fault; I cannot wallow in self-pity. Simply put, if I had been honest with young Harry Potter about what the Dark Lord wanted from him, if I had explained to him the absolute vital importance of learning Occlumency from Severus Snape, then more than likely this would not have happened. He would have disbelieved the dream Voldemort sent him, would not have gone to the Ministry of Magic, and would not have been followed by his godfather. So. It is my fault.
But what of Harry? He has indeed lost the closest thing he has had to a parent since James and Lily's murder over a decade ago. He has also lost a friend. Already Sirius's appeal to James was already evident in Harry as well; he worshipped Sirius like some godlike older brother who could do no wrong. He finally had someone, a grown up someone, who would take his part and moreover was his. Kind as the Weasleys are, I do not believe they mean anything like as much as Sirius to Harry, as they are primarily his friend's family and not his own. As could be expected, the boy is dreadfully upset, and it will take a long time for him to heal, although he will never fully overcome the pain and the sense of loss. However, he will heal, and one day this war will be over and he will have some semblance of a normal life at last, hopefully with his great friends at his side.
Someone whose welfare I am more concerned about than Harry's is Remus Lupin's. I remember so well speaking to him the morning after he saw Sirius again for the first time since he went to Azkaban, when he finally believed in his friend's innocence. I remember his optimism, his happiness, even though he knew he had to leave Hogwarts. Life has not been kind to Remus, first with his lycanthropy, then finding three friends to accept him at school before having all three of them snatched away in the most horrific manner. Finding out Sirius did not betray Lily and James gave him a new lease of life, and having his old friend back seemed to let him regain the years he lost in sorrow and restless wandering. It softened the blow of having to leave the school considerably, and working for the Order of the Phoenix with Sirius filled his days and gave him purpose.
But what now? Once more, he feels he is utterly alone, and although he is liked and respected by many, in a way he is right. With Sirius died the last person who knew and accepted him absolutely and who, I feel I am not being melodramatic in saying, Remus really loved. I hope that in time Harry may be some comfort to Remus, but for now I do not know what will happen. At least for Harry he is a child, he has many people around him to support and care for him. Remus is, or at least feels he is, utterly alone, and there is no way I know to alleviate this feeling. I know it is at least partially true.
Severus Snape is another who I feel abject pity for. He would never allow anyone to know it, but he suffers deeply for his role in Sirius's death. In essence, he feels his disobedience to my request to teach Harry to block out Lord Voldemort's dreams is the reason that Sirius is dead. He is to some extent correct, although I still feel the ultimate blame for this lies with me. If only, if only, I had not adopted the role of the all-knowing co-ordinator of everyone, telling only what I deemed it necessary for them to know. If only I had not thought that I knew best. If only I had been honest. Sirius died in vain and the fault is mine, not Severus's. I have told him this; however he does not wholly believe it although I hope it may be of some comfort to him.
What else is haunting my waking and sleeping thoughts? My confrontation with Tom Riddle, the first time for over a decade. Still calling himself 'Lord Voldemort', poor Tom. I ought not to pity him; I know how much blood he and his followers have staining their hands, and yet still I feel pity. This is an old man's weakness, the same weakness that killed Sirius, but I cannot overcome it. I admit, it shook me to stare Tom in the face. He has changed unrecognisably from the boy he was, but there is still the same 'something' about him that there was when he was a fifteen year old prefect. I didn't know it then. Now I do. Lust for power.
Voldemort will not stop in his quest for ultimate power until he is killed. That must be the mission of the Order of the Phoenix, and indeed of every witch and wizard living, because no one will be safe until his death. I only pray it will take as few other senseless deaths as possible before he is vanquished, destroyed for good, and Sirius's sacrifice can be realised fully. But for now, there is war, and right mourning must wait until the enemy is defeated.