August 31, Saturday

Full moon

So there. Bad habits die hard. Last year, I bought a notebook and started a diary randomly, to fill it up. This year, I bought one specially to write a diary. Let's see if this year turns out to be as eventful as the last... not that there's much doubt about it – unfortunately.

I'm still a teacher, right? When I say 'year', I mean academic year, obviously.

So, what news since the previous diary? Well, I'm still teaching at Hogwarts. Also, the war is continuing, it's all very bleak and dreadful out there, but up here we don't seem to be affected at all, so I'm afraid I might be a bit complacent about what's going on and not really feel the horror of it all. We're in working mode, the children are arriving tomorrow, everything going as planned. There are some staff changes though: a new lady, Charity Burbage, has taken up the post of Muggle Studies teacher (Fergus Merrythought got married in the summer and left – well, I did say he wouldn't stay single for long!), and also there are some more changes of a much more unexpected nature. We have another new colleague, or rather an old colleague who has made a comeback: Prof. Slughorn is back, and he is to teach Potions. And Severus is teaching... drum roll... Defence Against the Dark Arts! At long last! I'd known for quite a while, he told me about a month ago, but asked me to keep it quiet, so the Head's announcement at the term's first staff meeting yesterday caused quite a stir. I just wonder what kept D from appointing him many years ago and not bothering with all those strange people who have taught so far – from what I've heard, only Lupin was a more or less tolerable teacher. (Well, I have heard it from S himself, so I might be a bit biased. A bit!) It's just that if it is jinxed, as they insist, why appoint him at all? D has always seemed to be rather fond of S. I asked Sev., but he parries all my questions about his new job with a curious half-smile and blank silence. Obviously, I hope that the post is not jinxed and it's all just publicity, although it beats me why he should think he needs any. As if anyone doubted his courage! Strange person.

Oh yes, and we have a new Minister for Magic, too. Fudge has been forced to resign because he was very demonstrably losing his grip, and replaced by Rufus Scrimgeour, the erstwhile Head of the Auror Office. So I really hope that, what with his experience, he'll be more efficient in this time of war.

Oh yes, and I've turned thirty-five. It's supposed to be an important landmark, right? I wonder if I'm officially middle-aged now. I definitely don't feel middle-aged. I feel like I'm about nineteen.

September 1, Sunday

Start of another year. The children will be arriving by Hogwarts Express as per usual. This is so strange, there's a full-scale war on, and we're going to have the start-of-term feast and give out timetables and everything.

By the way, apropos timetables, this is what mine looks like this year. The prospective NEWTs have two classes a week, which is only appropriate, I think. And I'm very happy I've got almost all day free on Monday because I can continue German, and my conscience does not trouble me any more (I'd thought, before I got my timetable, that I'd have to go back on my word and cancel it in spite of the kids' repeated pleas to continue last year).

Mon

Tue

Wed

Thu

Fri

9.00-10.30

6-years

10.40-12.10

4 R

5H

6-years

5G

12.20-13.50

4 S

5R

3 H+S

5S

14.50-16.20

4 H+G

3 G+R

17.30-19.00

German

Good job they aren't arriving until late in the evening, actually. I think I'll go and catch up on my sleep. I'm not feeling tired, but I don't want to start suddenly nodding off during the Feast either.

September 2, Monday

Made a very unpleasant discovery. I've been given a wandering classroom for my pre-NEWT classes! Every day, it moves to a different and completely unpredictable location within the castle. (This time, it was on the highest floor of the Astronomy Tower, right under the roof.) So what happens is that I'll have to go down to Mr Filch's office every Monday and Thursday morning and ask him where the room is to be found. Heaven be praised at least it's just for these two classes, all the rest are still in my own room. I wonder why I was given it at all. Tradition, I suppose. Probably someone has to use it every year, otherwise something dreadful will happen.

By the way, I forgot to record that all of my OWL students got results from Acceptable upwards, so I'm taking them all back. I think I'll have plenty of time to lick them into shape, what with two classes a week and two years to go. They'll have to work hard, of course. Had to give them quite a huge home assignment today, but that's for their own good: if they read these books at the very outset, it'll be much easier for them to follow the programme afterwards.

Later: Oh joy. Life's completely back to normal. Sev. has just come into the staff room, wearing his usual cold sneer that betokens a lesson well spent in his estimation, that is, one accompanied by about fifty points taken off or a couple of detentions handed out. He's had a fight with Harry Potter. It's their first bloody day back, and he's had a fight with Harry Potter. That's what I call having a thing about somebody.

I've had notices put up that German will be resumed in two weeks. I just don't think I can cope with all of that at once.

Prof. Slughorn is an interesting addition to the staff room ambience, I must say. Very fat, very vociferous and discreetly dropping sweet wrappers wherever he sits.

September 3, Tuesday

We've had a visit paid on us today by the new Minister for Magic. He arrived – to talk to the Headmaster, of course – during one of the breaks, we were all in the staff room, and suddenly the door opened and Dumbledore came in, accompanied by the man we'd seen on the front page of the Prophet that very morning. I liked him, actually. He looked like a man of action. He's apparently been through a lot: he's got a limp and his face is scarred, not as bad as Moody's, but still. I remember Moody mentioned him once, in a positive way, as a no-nonsense, seasoned old Auror. That was before he became Minister, though. So anyway: Scrimgeour walked into the room, said hello, said he'd come to talk to Dumbledore but would like to use the opportunity to greet us all since he felt it was his duty as the new Minister to be personally acquainted with the people who were in charge of magical education. I must say he sounded as if he meant it, not as if he wanted to flatter us. Actually, I thought him a bit gruff at the start, or at least not the sort of person to waste time on diplomatic niceties. Then he walked around the room, shaking each teacher's hand, recognising those who had taught him (Flitwick, Slughorn) and getting introduced by the Head to those he didn't know, and exchanging a few words with each of us in turn. When he reached me and shook my hand as Dumbledore introduced me (I liked his handshake, firm and bony), he looked at me hard, his brow furrowed, then said: 'I think we've met before, haven't we?' I couldn't remember, but then he said, 'Weren't you brought in for questioning to the Auror Headquarters last summer? I think Nymphadora Tonks was in charge of you?' Then I realised he must have been at the Auror HQ when Tonks had been interrogating me, and even dimly remembered seeing him around, but of course I'd been trying so hard to be obnoxious and rude, and also, truth to tell, I'd been so scared, that his face hadn't registered at all. If he'd said anything to me, I'd have remembered, he's got a very pleasant Scottish accent. Anyway, I said: 'I was cleared of all charges, Minister.' 'Yes,' he said, 'I know, Doctor Heald,' smiled slightly at my amazement and moved on to talk to Prof. Sprout. That's what I call professionalism. He heard my name once and remembered it, my face and the way I had corrected Tonks when she had called me Mr Heald at the start of our interview; and he hadn't even been present at the interrogation! (I had corrected her because, as I said, I had been being obnoxious, the plan being to terrorise her, or, rather, to have every other Auror hear me terrorise her. As can be seen, the plan had worked! Of course I had apologised profusely to her that very evening at the Order HQ.) I really believe we are in better hands than Fudge's now. I hope Scrimgeour can hold back the chaos and disruption.

Later: I was curious, so I borrowed the Headmaster's Pensieve and relived the scene of my interrogation. I was really awful to poor Tonks! The expression on my face... And yes, Scrimgeour was a partition away, in the adjoining cubicle, listening curiously. It's bloody weird to see yourself walking and talking from the outside, I must say!

September 4, Wednesday

Welcoming old groups back one by one. Incredibly, not all of the information I gave them last year seems to have been obliterated from their brains!

September 5, Thursday

Seen my new beginners today. Quite a lot of them, there are more of them than there were last year. And very, very different levels. Here's the list.

Gryffindor/Ravenclaw (whom I liked more):

1. Ingrid Hamburg (R) – a bit slow, perhaps, but with a very engaging smile, and I think she has potential if she's made to work.

2. Zoe Worming (R) – poor girl, a name like that!.. she's very bright and very active.

3. Keira Thewlis (R) – sits together with Zoe; looks like that table will be the centre of any activity in the classroom!

4. Karen Arklyne (R) – not very active, but somehow she looked promising to me.

5. Miles Elgar (G) – very active, very clever, very arrogant. He's older than the rest (two years older from what I've heard – lived abroad with his parents until this year, and not just anywhere abroad but in Norway) and has had some prior experience, and presumably thinks he's the best in the class by definition. Potential order-breaker, really. He's definitely a spoilt child, and his behaviour doesn't bode well at all. He kept asking questions with a very obvious desire to catch me saying something wrong.

6. Bernard Phillipson (G) – quiet, presumably hardworking.

7. Stephen Shepherd (G) – dishevelled, jovial, again looks like a promising student, if he works, that is.

8. Saskia Kerringwood (R) – a bit uncertain but looks willing to learn.

9. Alice Yarman (R) – nice girl, quiet but clever.

10. Mary Peters (G) – haven't formed an impression so far.

11. Katherine Marshall (G) – said she was very interested but looks like a person who has difficulties concentrating. We'll see how it goes.

12. Victoria Collins (G) – seems to be all right, but again, I haven't formed an impression yet.

13. Barbara Sharpe (R) – sort of languid, but maybe it was just our first meeting that dazed her a little.

14. Emmanuel Oldman (G) – looked vacant during the whole class, remains to be seen whether there's any sense in his head.

Slytherin/Hufflepuff (whom I liked less despite my habitual pro-Hufflepuff bias):

1. Bruno Montgomery (S) – looks like he'll be the best in the bunch, together with

2. Catherine Cockerel (H).

3. Elijah Drake (H) – I don't know what this guy is doing at my class. A vacant stare and a slightly open mouth worth of Messrs Crabbe and Goyle. No, I'll be charitable. Maybe he was just scared, maybe he's a good student.

4. Helena Frawley (H) – yeah, that's another good one. Sort of earnest.

5. Pauline Lanner (H) – nice enough girl.

6. Stacey Dryer (H) – another nice enough girl.

7. Anne O'Leary (S) – that'll be a problem, I'm afraid. English isn't her first language, to begin with. But I'm damned if I'm learning Gaelic just so that I could explain things to her! Yes, I know that Hogwarts is prestigious, but they do have their own school in Dun Laoghaire, which does teach in Gaelic (called Scoil do Dhraoithe. Yes, I've looked it up, do you think I could remember something like that?), so if she was prepared to come over here and study in English, it's her and her parents' own funeral. But she seemed OK to me as a person, actually. Maybe we'll work it out somehow.

8. Victor Adams (H) – almost completely hidden by his long fringe, but when he emerges from underneath it he talks sense.

9. Iraja Changhari (S) – no definite impression yet again.

10. Veronica Jones (H) – same here.

11. Natalie Peck (S) – big eyes, not much behind them, it seems. Hope I'm wrong.

12. Tamsin Cleamy (S) – active.

13. Lucy Liver (S) – wide-open vacant eyes again, I just hope it was all down to their fright of a new teacher.

14. Dora Conrcrake (H) – (why are there so many bird-related names in this group I wonder?) very nice, as for academic prowess – we'll see.

15. Egbert Alpstow (S) – I liked him, he was active and presumably willing to learn.

So Many Students!!!

By the way, I think it needs recording that for the first time in my life, I wasn't feeling scared. At all. Reluctant to meet new people, as usual, but not scared. On the contrary, I felt quite confident, in control. I must be growing professionally! (At bloody last!)

Later: Reread the bit about Elgar. Looks like I'm turning into an old fart, being angry at a kid for trying to be clever and snub my authority. Dear, dear, dear. I don't want to be an old fart, not yet!

September 6, Friday

Had the first lesson with this year's OWL group. Again, was glad to find they actually remember something. Good job I have experience with OWL preparation. I think I'll just repeat what I did last year since the result of my efforts turned out to be all right.

September 7, Saturday

First weekend of term, yess!! Two months of doing nothing definitely corrupt you. Getting back into working stride again is almost a superhuman feat!

September 8, Sunday

Is there a point in actually striving to have an entry a day?.. Nothing happened today. Nothing at all.

September 9, Monday

It's funny that it's only as the second week of term starts that the fact that School Has Begun Again actually sinks in. During the first week, you seem to be still harbouring a tiny hope that the whole thing will be somehow called off. But as the second Monday looms you understand that there's no way back... we're back on the routine.

September 10, Tuesday

Ten days into the term and the mess on my desk is building up again. In-bloody-credible!

September 12, Thursday

Wonder if I'll have to repeat the procedure every year now. Now the new third-years noticed I wasn't using a wand (I was making the runes appear on the blackboard behind my back spectacularly), I caught their curious glances and asked them whether they knew how I could do it; Zoe Worming knew. Then, of course, I had to repeat the same guessing game (well, not that I had to but I thought it would be fun), and it took them four goes to guess it was the ring.

Funny thing really, I just never take it off so I feel almost omnipotent, not like I used to feel while I was still using a wand. You had to reach for it, maybe even look for it first; but the ring is always there, so I can cast spells while I'm having a bath and everything, I'm almost impossible to catch unawares. On the other hand, I don't remember half the Modern spells as it turns out. (I flicked through a seventh-year Charms textbook Flitwick had left lying around in the staff room the other day and felt somewhat mortified.)

But hey, it's pretty cool being a warlock, actually. Just say what you want in Old Norse, and bingo! Well, yes, it did take three years to learn Old Norse, of course... And the shapeshifting, that alone was worth learning it for! I didn't know it came with the craft at the start though, did I? No, I didn't. Came as a pleasant surprise. And to think I fully expected to turn into a wolf, and suddenly there were these huge flapping wings!

And the magic system conflict was easy enough to solve once I got my new wand in Stockholm. I remember when I tried to use my old one and it started sending sparks in all directions and burned me! I was shocked at such misbehaviour. Good job they told me where that wandmaker's shop was in Gamla Stan. I don't think anyone else in Britain has a wand like mine! Fossegrim hair is not easy to come by round here. Nor, for that matter, is the fine Urnes-style craftsmanship! I wonder what Ollivander did with my old wand. Sold it at half price, most probably. Maybe one of the children here at school have it, come to think of it!

September 13, Friday

Fuck. Now it really feels like wartime. Hannah Abbot's mother was found dead. Hannah's been removed from the school. Just yesterday, I saw her there, in her usual place, and now she's gone. I don't know if I feel worse about her tragedy or about the fact that we're going on teaching as usual, having our meals, going to the Library, blah blah blah.

And another weird thing happened: Stan Shunpike, the conductor of the Knight Bus, was arrested on suspicion of knowing something about Death Eater activity. The paper says he was overheard sharing their plans with someone in a pub. I don't know him too well, but he seemed quite harmless to me. On the other hand, he did look like a person who had great difficulties keeping his mouth shut, so I wouldn't be at all surprised if he learned something by chance and was blabbing it out to anyone who would listen. And anyway, Azkaban isn't the place it used to be now, is it?

Ugh, I really sounded repulsive there. I wouldn't like to go to prison myself, even if there were no Dementors there. Anyways, I hope Stan Shunpike will be released soon.

September 15, Sunday

Nice weather. Went walking and flying about. Nothing much else to record, actually.

September 16, Monday

Restarted German, using my Runes classroom like last year. Nearly all of the old bunch turned up, and very eager to learn, too. That's the good thing about voluntary classes: nobody who's bored by the subject has to attend.

September 17, Tuesday

Umbridge's locked room system has been reinstated all of a sudden. There's been no prior notification or anything, it was announced today by means of a notice put up on the staff room notice board. Everyone's really annoyed. We can see it's probably the tightened security, but honestly, it looks like some Ministry provocation, probably an order issued by Umbridge herself. (Because it somehow doesn't look like it's coming from Dumbledore.) What it all boils down to is that basically you have to lock up after every lesson, even if you stay in the same room (or else you have to stay inside). And if you have a room that's anything else than your personal classroom, like that moving bloody classroom of mine, you can't have your own key: you have to go down and get it! A small cupboard-like office has been opened off the entrance hall where you have to go and sign the register, and then the key jumps into your hands from the hook. (If you don't sign, it just won't budge, you can pull and pull but it'll just stay there. Yes, I have tried.) Which takes a lot of time, especially if you think that you only have ten minutes for the following routine: lock up, go down, hand in the key, go to staff room and have tea, go get another key, come upstairs again, open the classroom. And some people don't even have a personal classroom for some reason! There's no Department of Muggle Studies, for instance. Such a huge castle, and such difficulties with just bloody getting into a classroom.

September 19, Thursday

Oh dear, this is unexpected! I was having a lesson with my third-years, and, ten minutes into the class, I got a huge shock when the door opened and a latecomer came in, and turned out to be none other that Eugenius Skinner, the boy I'd already taught last year! I'd heard he had been expelled, or his parents had removed him from the school due to his complete lack of academic achievement, but presumably the Headmaster decided he deserved another chance. Why he's taken up Runes again I cannot fathom. I mean, OK, OK, as long as he works and does as he's told, I'm not bothered, but I do have a feeling I won't see any improvement this year: the boy arrived to class armed with only a quill and a scrap of paper which does not, in my humble opinion, quite show the, er, required level of dedication. Well, we'll see.

September 21, Saturday

This is incredible. No, I'm glad that the school is so well-protected, but really! Good job he didn't kill me right away.

What happened was that today, I went flying again, flew about quite a bit, and then suddenly there was this violent itch in my left leg that I couldn't do anything about in mid-air, so I landed and found myself on a garden wall opposite the side entrance of The Three Broomsticks. I scratched my leg with my beak, and as I did it, I spotted a Ministry leaflet lying on the wall that I hadn't seen, so I started scanning it without changing my form, and suddenly two people came charging out of the pub and before I could do anything at all, one of them had shouted a spell and I was blasted off my feet and off the wall with an indignant croak, right down into someone's blackthorn bush, and transformed back into a human! As I got up, swearing freely I admit, I saw that the figures were two of the four Aurors stationed in the village, namely Tonks and Proudfoot. Tonks was doubled over and laughing her head off, and Proudfoot looked distinctly stunned, still holding his wand trained at me. Turned out he had spotted the unusually literate raven out of the window and thought I was a Death Eater (well, obviously. Who else can a raven be? Philistines...) spying. Tonks had realised it was me but she wasn't quick enough to stop him, and anyway she was overcome with laughter as she imagined what the scene would look like. And of course, since it was a Modern spell, the transformation didn't go exactly right and I did end up looking quite stupid, with black feathers still sticking out of my head in several places (nowhere else, thank goodness!), up to my knees in that stupid bush and covered in dead leaves and scratches from the thorns. I plucked the feathers out and gave them to Tonks to use as quills if she wanted, then left castlewards on foot barely listening to Proudfoot's apologies. As I said, I'm glad he's so vigilant, but really!.. An Auror must know the names and shapes of all registered Animagi by heart, and I'm a law-abiding, registered turnskin!

September 23, Monday

Bloody Severus is making my life a misery again. I do wish he'd get over his Harry Potter obsession! Every class he has with the sixth-years gives me a headache.

Although actually... headache? Headache? Do you remember how it used to feel in your first years, especially in the first months? It was unbearable, his regret and guilt tore at my soul so that I could practically feel it bleeding. And that very first minute of it... I thought I'd drop dead then and there, I wanted to double up and scream and just wondered why he wasn't screaming all the time... I got used to it soon enough, though, fought the pain back into some remote corner of my head – actually, come to think of it, this dull ache at the back of my skull is nearly always there, but I've learned to detach myself from it and I don't really notice. That is, unless he flies off the handle and this dull aching spot bursts like a dam and floods my whole being with this blazing, white-hot agony which constricts my breathing and prevents me thinking straight if I don't fight it. God, I'm such an expert in his emotions. I can tell whether it's anger, or hatred, or guilt, or fear.

I just hope, I really bloody hope it does help him. If it's all for nothing...

And I really don't want to know what my own soul looks like after all these years. So it's better not to think about it at all.

September 24, Tuesday

Aunt Clarisse's birthday. Decided to ring them on the telephone, because she's so proud of it and so happy when she can use it. I don't remember when I used the telephone last – when I was a primary schoolboy in Scarborough, I think, and rang my classmates from the booth on the road. I Flooed to the Muggle Relations Dept at the Ministry after the classes (remembered the time difference!) and used theirs. Great fun, actually, although it's very strange talking to someone without seeing their face! Auntie was happy I'd rung.

September 25, Wednesday

Went for a ramble after school, out of the grounds and up into the mountains. Enjoyed it enormously. It's funny really, because I'm actually not at all the outdoor type, I'm quite happy sitting at my fireplace with a book and a cup of tea. But every now and then, a long hike seems quite irresistible, like today.

Remembered how we used to go tramping in the moors with Mum, Dad and Robert. Sometimes we'd have a picnic on top of a hill or something.

Actually I had an almost perfect childhood. The sea, the moors, the cottage, the lighthouse. The garden. Mum's roses and delphiniums and poppies. The long walks. The swimming. The smell of seaweed and dog-roses at the front door and newly-baked bread and tar soap. Even Father's affliction didn't taint it, really, he was so brave and almost dismissive about it before us. He and Mum never really showed us how it plagued them. We knew full well that our father was a werewolf but it wasn't something dreadful, it just meant that our dear, beloved, ever-cheerful Dad had to spend a night a month locked up in the lighthouse and not in their bedroom. In the morning, he'd come into the kitchen by the back door while we were having breakfast, looking exhausted and grey-faced but always smiling, he would kiss us and he'd kiss Mum and they'd stand there embracing each other for a few seconds, and then he'd sit down and eat his breakfast and everything would be as good as ever it was.

Actually, come to think of it, I'm almost happy the cottage burned down. It would be unbearable to know that other people lived their lives there, changed the wallpaper or the curtains, adapted the house to accommodate them, and not my ghosts. A ruin and a headstone in the churchyard suits me better. The house is kept hidden safely in my memory anyway. It's almost as if they did it deliberately, leaving that candle to burn and burn in the nursery – unnoticed by those who bustled about downstairs removing their bodies and establishing what had happened – to finally set alight the curtain and destroy the cottage within an hour, obliterating every material trace of the happy family that once occupied the house that would otherwise stand as a lying and agonising memorial to them.

Now what has brought this on I wonder. It's almost frightening, you start off with an innocent remark about the weather and suddenly find yourself delving deep inside yourself and grappling with your demons.

The funny thing is that I'll want to cross all of this out tomorrow as I reread it, it'll seem painfully sentimental and embarrassing. But I won't cross it out. I must face my demons every now and then, and it won't do to pretend they don't exist. Let this entry serve as a reminder.

September 26, Thursday

That's the fifteenth day in a row I've seen the Headmaster only at breakfast, dinner or not at all. He never told us anything, so I don't think it can be Order business. What does he think he's doing, leaving the school for such extended periods of time? Because I don't think he lurks in his chambers, he is very definitely out somewhere. Incredible, I thought I was a responsible adult, but the thought of Dumbledore being far away and not there to guide us fills me with dread and insecurity, even though I know he puts up extra spells for protection whenever he leaves Hogwarts.

September 27, Friday

Now what exactly is going on at this school?! They've started some major refurbishment! I don't believe it – it couldn't have been done during the summer, or by magic, or anything, it has to be done now, during classes, by groups of trolls noisily banging at walls and shouting to one another at the top of their voices, right? I had to go out and ask them to bloody keep it down during a class because I couldn't hear a word the students were saying!

September 28, Saturday

Full moon

That's about it really.

September 30, Monday

Professor McGonagall's just announced that we teachers are going to have compulsory sessions of combat training until the end of the term (at least). She said, casting me and S a glance, that she knew some of us didn't really need to learn combat spells, but some others did and anyway training is always a good thing. Good idea, I'm all for it. The first session is to be held on October 3, at eight o'clock.

Also, I've decided, from now on, to have my wand with me whenever I venture outside the boundary of the school grounds. The do say the Dementors that left Azkaban are breeding all over the place. I've been thinking and it looks like the best way to do it would be to strap it to my left arm with the wristband. That means I won't be able to wear a watch, which will be uncomfortable, but that's definitely better than facing a Dementor unarmed, or fumbling in my bag, or risking to break it if I stick the wand in the back pocket and then sit on it. And I need to have it on me, because I've never faced a Dementor before and I don't know the effect the encounter will have on me, I'm afraid that it might sap me of concentration required to summon the wand from the school, which will leave me completely defenceless. It's definitely safer to have it handy. If I could just formulate a dwimmercraft incantation that would summon a Patronus, but so far all of my efforts have been futile. Probably Modern Magic is the only way, actually. They don't call it Modern for nothing, right? Surely there must have been a certain degree of progress involved in the transition.