Journal entry the twentieth
Last night went just as planned, and was maybe even more successful than I dreamed. Umbeknownst to the public, I managed to contact a long neglected power and, with a great deal of haggling, we managed to come to a workable deal. It will be tricky to meet all of its conditions, but if anyone had the potential to pull off this very risky scheme it would be yours truly.
The set went marvelously, if I do say so myself. I had the crowd eating out of my hand, teachers and students alike. Ah, if only Sev had stayed longer, I noticed him slip out, then he would have been present for a song that I selected just for him. I still performed it, and I'm sure that my lovely audience is still scratching their heads about the identity of the "dark Prince" I dedicated it to. Yes, I know all about his family background, at least from a genetic point of view. Bloodlines are understandably a hobby of mine, and I found several references to Sev in the Malfoy family library. Oh, Draco and Lucius would likely faint if they knew the number of times I snuck into Malfoy Manor completely undetected for various purposes. And if they think that is scandalous, well, the family really should check their vaults out a bit closer, for more than a few bits and bobs found their way into my pockets/loot bag. Yes, I have a loot bag. After a lengthy cartoon marathon, I decided to draw a big black dollar sign on the side. Maybe I shouldn't watch cartoons as much as I have, they are giving me inspired moments that scare even myself in retrospect.
I'm rather proud of myself, the outcome of the ritual from the Anubis scrolls has cleared my mind up on a topic on which I have been quite the procrastinator recently. Here I am, pouring my heart out knowing full well that it will be read by an individual of my choosing, yet I have until now failed to select the lucky recipient. Last night was definitely a night of revelations, and not only the course of this journal but my own course is now much clearer. Riskier, certainly, but with an actual chance at reward beyond saving the school.
On that note, good evening my dear Severus. Knowing you as well as I do, you are likely sitting in your quarters with a glass of either firewhiskey or scotch at hand, late at night with a scroll and quill at hand for immediate impressions. I know that I must have shocked you with my earlier revelations about lusting after your snarky self. Personally, I think people must be blind, deaf, and total morons not to pick up on the fact that you are one sexy beast. (Note to self: do not replace cartoons with Austin Powers, it is a far worse influence). Before you sneer and start putting yourself down, listen to me. You possess a certain grace and charisma that draws the attention of a room, and your years of potion brewing have accentuated your natural elegance. Try denying that your movements, at least above a cauldron, are nothing but perfectly smooth and graceful. Your voice, ah, that rich silky baritone is one of the most sensual things I've ever heard, even when it was raised in anger or frustration. Why else would someone you now know to be a potions master in their own right fail so miserably in potions classes, after all. It wasn't all for my cover, I actually messed up potions that I could brew in my sleep because I was distracted by your sexy, sexy voice. I know that you're perhaps a bit paranoid about your nose, thinking it too large and crooked when in fact that classical profile fits perfectly with your regal mien.
Physical characteristics notwithstanding, the feature that I not only found sexy, but perhaps began to fall in love with was your mind. You possess that spark of brilliance and greatness that draws people like a moth to the flame. The hardest part of this whole farce was pretending to have an antagonistic relationship with you when I wanted nothing more than to spend my time with someone my equal in many ways, someone with whom I could sit down and have a meaningful, intelligent discourse rather than rambling about worthless quidditch scores. What's done is done, however, and while I am plagued by the shadow of the BWL I know that I cannot hope for a relationship with you where we weren't screaming at each other. Hell, all my research and I still have no idea which sex you prefer, but even if you were to never fancy me in that way I would still have settled for a friendship. This is perhaps my only act of cowardice, rather than work up the courage to confront you I instead pour myself into this entry that I know will not be read until after my death. I know that, given time, I could have warmed your heart in some fashion, but time is a resource that I do not have to spare, at least at the moment.
Star-crossed lovers indeed, I would like to dream that we are scar-crossed lovers instead. If Dumbles had never set things up in the manner he did, then I would have had a chance at a relatively normal, scar-free life, with nothing stopping me from my pursuit. Ah, a maudlin mood seems to have settled over me at the moment, yet I do not wish to stop writing. Before, I was in a very cynical and snarky mood because I believed my actions to have only one outcome. That outcome is still very near on the horizon, but things have changed in ways I never could have predicted. For the first time in my entire life that I can remember, I have hope. My hope has taken the edge off most everything save my sense of humour. Speaking of which, da da daaaaa, if you want a good laugh after reading this entry I suggest you check up on Lucius after this. Think of it as a cheer-up bouquet of flowers delivered by a sick, sick, sick (hah) twisted mind. You'll be the only one able to read the card, by the way. Everyone else that reads it will be forced to recite a random dirty limerick. There, that took me out of my maudlin state. Nothing like messing with people's heads from beyond the grave to cheer a bloke up.
Severus, there is a piece of information I wish to trust to you, and only you. I will entrust this with your sense of honour and dignity, so if you have any sliver of respect for me by now keep this to yourself. If things really did go as I planned, a spirit of some type, probably in the form of either a lizard, wolf, or crow, has appeared by now. I don't know what they will be like, but it is important that the spirit-creature, who will seem to be a perfectly average creature upon scrutiny, be given free reign. Let it do whatever it wants, if it it intelligent then it might be possible to reach some sort of compromise, but do not try to trap or contain it. This isn't for the spirit's sake so much as for the sake of the fool who would try such a thing. Remember, it may look like an animal, but it's probably more intelligent than half the staff. I spelled this passage so that once more you are the only one able to read it, and please do not tell anyone about this. It's probably okay if the spirit itself knows that I have told you this, but no one else. I'm bending the rules by doing this, but I feel the risk is worth the reward. The last thing I would ever want is for you to lose your temper and try something that would cause a serious amount of damage.
If the spirit is in fact present, soon things will really begin to get interesting. Remember, I did state earlier that many of the effects of my actions have yet to be felt. This is not what I had in mind at the time, but it still applies. Plenty of surprises on the way, after all to achieve goals as lofty as mine such things cannot be one in one fell blow. In the meantime, rest up my dear Severus, I have a feeling that you will need it in the time to come.
I'm not sure that respect successfully describes how I feel towards him at the moment, I think that awe would come closer to the truth. I did in fact contact Lucius after reading the essay, stepping over a giggling, cursing Draco to get to the fireplace, and what I found is perhaps his crowning pranking achievement. Instead of the tall, blond aristocrat I've known for a good part of my life, there was a large plant-like creature covered with many rare species that are known mostly for their use in potions. This may not sound impressive, except that the plants were formed in ways that accentuated certain, ahem, attributes of Lucius that are usually not on display, and turned the rest of his form into a caricature of itself. To complete the tableau, he was completely rooted to the floor in his office and every time he opened his mouth various quotes from Harry's beloved cartoons would spill out. I wasn't quite prepared for the scale of the prank, nor the level of difficulty, so after a good laughing session I decided to harvest Lucius. I was low on that kind of nightshade anyway. From the timer that appeared with the transformation, it seems that he has a full day to spend as a reject from Little Shop of Horrors.
Such praise, he truly did hold me in high esteem. If I am to be honest with myself, I'm not sure how I would react if he were to approach me today. It is true that I have never had much interest in the company of women, but neither have I sought out men. It could be that the years of stress have suppressed my sex drive to the point where it is almost nonexistent, or it could just be that I have not found anyone worth my time, male or female. I would like to believe that gender would not matter if I found someone that I connected with, but I have no idea if that idea would be acted upon if the situation were to arise. It is truly ironic that the one person with whom I could have had some type of relationship, sexual or non, with had a streak of selflessness and martyrdom. I recognize that his actions did save the school in ways that we are aware and yet unaware of, but a selfish part of me that I thought long dead wishes that there was another way.
What good did that hope do him in the end, he is still dead and since I never was the social butterfly to start with my choices for company are rather limited. Right now I've got a drunk former Dark Lord, who is even more of a social pariah than I, passed out on the floor next to my equally unconscious godson. The only company who seems to be able to keep up with me is the blasted bird, who is actually some type of highly intelligent spirit that could smite us all with thoughts according to the warning. When Harry stated that things would get interesting, surely he was not referring to the bird developing a drinking problem worse than mine and somehow managing to render "Danny Boy" in caws. I find myself tempted to take the bird out for a pub crawl through muggle London, just to see the reactions. As a matter of fact, I will do just that. Wherever Harry is right now, I hope he looks down at us and feels a bit of pride that I am manifesting certain traits of his sense of humour.
I will admit that, at first, I thought of Harry as someone too far gone to be anything but cynical and snarky, but he sells himself short much as he claims I do. That man had enormous capabilities to love and trust, and it is a tribute to his strength that it wasn't completely crushed out of him by circumstances that make some circles of Hell look like the south of France. I am plagued now with thoughts of what kind of relationship we would have had. Since no leads or answers seem to be forthcoming, all that I can do is what I have been doing all along. We entrusted ourselves to Harry's mercies once before, and we shall again. Whatever ritual this drunken bird that definitely shares Harry's unique brand of humour is part of is apparently under way. Barring us finding the library and isolating the scroll, let alone translating it, there is nothing to do but wait for all to be revealed.
Enough for tonight, the bird and I are going out for a long night of drunken debauchery. Before we leave, I am going to attempt something that many would not have the stones to try. Judging from the drinking songs it loves, I believe it understands a good bit of english. Since I do not want to stain my already tarnish reputation by ordering drinks for a large crow, I will teach it to order the drinks itself. If it wants to drink, it will pass the orders to the barkeep itself. That alone should result in incredulous stares. I know for a fact that the bird knows how to curse, largely thanks to Draco and the tickle hex, so that should really get very interesting and amusing. Hm, the unconscious people on my floor are giving me Harry-influenced ideas, we should get going before the temptation proves too strong.