Title: Learning to Break Glass Butterflies
Pairings: lots of peoplexlots of other people, and even some people+different people
Comment: Hell :D even if other people don't like this I sure as hell like writing these. POVs are fun like burning to a pyrophobic, or like the French to audi. "Canon" is like "Changes" a nice word that ultimately means very little.

Remus Lupin : Second Entry : Purity

I realized after writing my first introduction that I had not supplied adequate information about those involved in the construction of this diary or their back histories. However, I do believe that by the time this diary is found by an outside reader the bare historical facts about several of those mentioned within its pages will be available in any history book. Well, not Sirius and I but certainly the Inner Core members. Of course they won't be referred to in any way as the Inner Core and those who know of its existence will deny it is real. That is what I hope to do with this diary on a personal note. Show the horrors of what the Inner Core are capable of, so what I sure to happen within the next several months will never happen again. None of these children deserve what it going to happen to them.

Since my last entry I have also decided that you, the future reader, have a right to know what the Inner Core is possible of as I am not sure that after their awakening I will be able to write again.

The Inner Core has the ability to 'purify' the world around them. They can return the earth to its initial state, a state of perfect harmony, a state where humanity doesn't exist. Earth will never be pure while humans exist to corrupt it. Long ago, several wizards and witches took it upon themselves to prepare the world for its rebirth. We have reached the generation of the rebirth. Voldemort is small potatoes compared to what these children are internally capable of. But the problem is they'll never quite understand. Which is why they can't know what they are. They'll think to the immediate future, that they can destroy Voldemort, and not the long-term effects.

All they'll here is that they can purify the earth of all its trials and sins. They'll hear the good and be oblivious to the fact this has become our earth. We're not perfect as human beings, but we do the best we can. I have to believe that we do the best we can do. Humans can be horrible creatures but we are also capable of infinite kindness. Society is the corruption here, not man.

The Second War as they are calling it is so inappropriately named. There is no first War, no second, there will be no third. As humans we have been fighting since conception and we will fight to our graves. Like every other species on this planet we fought to get to where we are today and we will not go down without a fight, we'll go down kicking and screaming.

I am proud to be a human, I am proud of the animal I am.

Sirius Black : Second Entry : Woof

I just love it when Remus babbles on and on in French. True I don't understand a bloody word he's saying but it just sounds so rushed and unkempt and right coming from his lips. He tries not to slip into French without noticing. He tries to control his tongue but that's why I love it when he can't. When he's speaking French I know he isn't watching what he's saying. And he doesn't need to. Who's going to understand him anyway? But he still blushes and apologizes afterwards, like its some sort of sin to be lost in emotion. I like to think he only speaks French to me, but he's not speaking to anyone at all.

It's something that comes naturally to him, like breathing. It takes effort, even though he's lived his entire life in England, to remember to speak in English. It takes the full moon to remind him he's not just like everyone else. It'll take him a lifetime to understand that what makes him different makes him so uniquely him.

Well, I suppose I should discuss a little about what I'm doing for the War effort. As I am still running around as an unregistered animagi I'm quite useful when it comes to surveillance. Peter's body was found last year and we have no reason to suspect he ever told Voldemort that I was an animagi and ever if he did chances are the run of the mill death eater still has no idea. So basically I spend a couple hours a day, and occasionally over night being the adorably fluffy creature I am and watching over the very bad men.

When you've been through as much shit as I have, you try to keep in high spirits as much as possible because you understand how quickly it can all be taken away. I don't love the work I do, but I take pride in knowing that I'm helping bring down Voldemort, that James and Lily's deaths will be avenged.

But you can't go through every second of every day thinking of nothing but revenge. If I were to do that I'd be no better then the death eaters. So I live my life, I don't abandon it for the sake of those lost. Those lost should not drag down the living but should be remembered by them. I will never forget James and Lily. Harry is living proof that we cannot forget the past. Every time I look at him I remember them. And I wish they were here to see their beautiful son. I want them to see the child they left behind and be as proud of him as I am.

Remus is crouched over a number of parchments on his desk muttering away in French as always when he thinks no one is paying attention. Even if I were able to understand anything he says he's speaking too quickly for me to record it here. And it's nothing that's terribly important to anyone anyway. I don't know what it is he's working on. He doesn't know what it is I'm working on. That's the way this entire situation has been set up, no one knows what others know. We are each our own cell and we each know our little bit of information. We feed that information to an uncaring machine that will process it and spit it back out. This is to be our path to victory?

Who are we kidding? There is no victory in war, no romance, not even tragedy. Only blind killing. This isn't a duel, this is mass carnage we're preparing for. The wizarding population is so small to begin with. Hogwarts only produces fifty or so newly trained wizards and witches a year. People don't seem to realize how small it really is. Don't they see killing a death eater is killing one of our own? There is no distinction. There is no distinction among the dead.

They're all so fucking ready for this war. It's a battle that must be fought of course, but is it being fought for the right reasons? This isn't a war about defeating Voldemort. This must be the war to end war. We must prove that nothing is gained from war. I believe there are those who deserve to die. But even if death reaches out to them with the cold damp hands of war, how many bodies will litter their paths?

We're all just begging for this war. All I'm begging for is a little attention from the love of my life. That he raise his pretty little head from his scrolls and put down his quill, but that he continue muttering in a language I don't know a word of but understand perfectly.

Percy Weasley : Second Entry : Boy

Ginny and I are so much alike it scares me sometimes. I used to look into her eyes and see the same sort of misplaced ambitions I used to have. She wanted to do what was right even if she didn't fully understand the difference between wrong and right, even if she didn't see the other perspectives. But she's not like that anymore.

When I look at her all I see is death now. When Mum...when she died I think she took Ginny with her. She really hasn't been the same since then. At first it was skipping family dinners because she was feeling 'sick' or 'too tired.' We were all taking Mum's passing hard. We let her be hoping that she would come around eventually.

She didn't. She didn't and now it's killing me inside as well. Even for a witch she's lead a traumatic life thus far. The one topic we all know to avoid is the Chamber. We avoid it like the plague, not because she herself has ever shown a sign of not wishing to talk about it. But rather we don't want to know the answers to the questions. She opened the chamber, Tom Riddle's clever spell drained life from her. That's all we know, that's all we dare ask.

I suppose it's her small frailty that I identify most with. Charlie and the twins are muscular and powerful, Bill and Ron are tall and slender, then Ginny and I are more delicate, frail. We have slender piano hands with stretched finger and perfect nails. We're light but in more of a skinny then a fit sort of way.

She's sitting right in front of me on the floor as I sit on the couch and brush her beautiful hair. Her hair is a much deeper shade of red then mine, more akin to Bill's but her hair is shorter then his. Since Mum died she's been keeping her hair short. Shorter then even Ron's. It's like the twin's who never let their hair come in contact with their ears. She's not the sweet little girl I knew years ago.

I'm fairly sure that she is unaware how much I know about her new personality sometimes. She thinks it's her little secret. As someone who lusted in silence for far too long I can tell when looks are more then just innocent. And I'm certainly not talking about Harry Potter. I don't know what she's ashamed of. For Merlin's sake, Oliver just moved in with me. What has she got to fear?

"Percy, you know that gel that Fred and George use? Could we try some in my hair?"

"Of course, Ginny."

I can't say no to her. While I don't particularly like going through the twin's things it's not as if I have some moral objection to it. The blue bottle is sitting on their dresser. It looks like water in slow motion, like half frozen ice. When I return downstairs Ginny is looking at herself in the mirror Hermione gave her for Christmas last year. The one with the pretty brass handle and delicate butterflies sculpted into it. Her brown eyes twitch upwards to meet mine. Eyes are everything to a person.

Ginny, Charlie, Ron and I all have brown eyes like our father, the twins and Bill have lighter ones. But each of us has our own distinct shade. I begin to work the gel through Ginny's hair. She just stares back at herself in that pretty little mirror, my pretty little Ginny. I spike up her hair like a teenaged Muggle boy, I know that's how she wanted it. A little smile plays across her unpainted lips. She's going out tonight with Hermione before she leaves again. Her pretty little lips lay a delicate kiss on my cheek and she runs up the stairs in her elfish manner.

Upon hearing Ginny's distinct footsteps going up the staircase Oliver descends them a second or two after her door shuts and joins me on the couch. Without waiting more time he pulls me into his lap. It's like he can't stand a moment being in the same room as me and not touching me. His hands are always on me, he is such an exhibitionist. Maybe I am too.

Harry Potter : Second Entry : The Confession

So I've put off telling Ron because I wanted to get the journal back first. I want all of this to be recorded. If he kills me, I want there to be a detailed record to convict him on. Of course I'm just joking about that last bit. He's my best friend and even if he did kill me I wouldn't want any harm to come to him. We're both lying on my bed at Remus' just, laying. Oh it's the best feeling in the world because we don't have to say anything, we just have to exist.

Of course, this could bring the end to all this. I could be ruining our friendship forever but I have to tell him, I can't go on not knowing, him not knowing what I feel. If he rejects me, well fine, we can still be friends. He's not that immature that he would give up our friendship over this. At least I'm finally being honest with him.

"Ron..."

"Yeah?"

"Ron, I love you."

"I love you too, Harry."

God, that boy is clueless. Maybe I shouldn't be laying here with a dumb look on my face but the denseness of Ron amazes me sometimes. He's incredibly intelligent but sometimes he's just plain stupid.

"No Ron...what I mean..."

"You're my best mate, Harry, of course I love you!"

Maybe it's just not worth the effort.

Hermione Granger : Second Entry : The Confession

I really wasn't expecting the book back this quickly. Ginny told me she had it earlier today so having to have it go through Harry as well I wasn't expecting it until tomorrow. Of course, by tomorrow I would be in France and who knows if it would reach me there. Of course, only Professor Lupin knows how powerful the magic of this diary is.

As I was not expecting the diary until at least tomorrow I have nothing prepared to record. But, I hate the idea of not finishing with it promptly so I suppose that I will record the simple event of having dinner with Ginny. She insisted it would be a wonderful event to record, so that the future would get a taste of normal culture of our time period. I do see the historical value of recording a simple but special meal. Perhaps the reader will get a good idea of the state of our world from this entry.

Ginny wanted to go to a Muggle restaurant so I picked one out for us to go to. It's been a terribly long time since I last saw her. She's still keeping her hair boyishly short. It doesn't quite fit her but who am I to judge? I still picture her as that tiny, frail girl who unknowingly opened the Chamber, as Ron's little sister with the crush on Harry that just won't quit.

We're just chattering about various things here and there. I must admit out of all her siblings she's the most natural among Muggles. The others look on in fascination while she just lets it all come to her. She doesn't obsess over the little things that go on. She exists in the Muggle world like she exists anywhere else.

I wish she would get over her little crush on Harry though. But she doesn't mention him nearly as much as she used to she still blushes every time Harry and I come to visit Ron at the Burrow. While I'm being personal I could mention the fact I know Harry and Ron have intentions that are anything but innocent though I suspect I do not know the full extent of them. I take another sip from my glass. I no longer drink anything but water. Everything else lately makes me feel ill. My body is wearing out far faster then I would like. Just getting up in the morning is proving to be a challenge. My body and my mind just are no longer in agreement about how far we can push each other. The other day I dropped a glass.

"Hermione, you will bring me back a gift from France, won't you?"

There is a little blush on her cheeks and she looks genuinely flustered. Even as she grows older and changes her appearance she really is just a little girl still. I hope she can hold on to her innocence even after the War, naive, never, but always an Innocent.

"Of course, Ginny. I wouldn't forget."

It's so hard not to smile when you talk to Ginny. She seems to make everything brighter somehow. I wish she would grow her hair back out. She had such pretty straight hair. She meets my smile. I wish I were as strong as she is. I wish I wish I wish.

"You had such pretty hair when it was long..."

"I know, I hated it."

Sometimes she's confusing. Maybe I heard it wrong, maybe not.

"Did you really like it better when it was long, like a girl?"

"It suited your face better, yes I think I liked it more then. You're pretty now too of course. But it's like you're trying to be someone you're not."

"Maybe I will grow it back out then. If you liked it more that way."

I just nod. How would one even respond to something like that? Generally I'm clever with words but the right ones simply do not come to me. I need to think before I can dare touch this book again.

Draco Malfoy : Second Entry : Deconstructing the Agitator

Leave it to that dog to create a magic book that doesn't even function properly. I couldn't even open the bloody thing when I decided it was time to write my entry. As such it has made me fall behind the others, perhaps it was Potter's and his little Weasel boyfriend's plot to insure they would have the upper hand. I won't stand for it. They think they're so clever but I know the truth about them. And I will make them pay for cursing this book. But let us not dwell on that.

When it comes right down to it. I'm really not the bad guy.

I'm fighting the noble fight, to make the world safe for Wizards, safe from the intrusion of Muggle values on Wizarding culture. Some of the finest Wizards of our time have started believing in God. Oh, I know all about God. More then anything about Mudbloods, more then their inferior genes, then their compassion for the stock they came from, above all else I hate them for loving God. It's slipping into our vocabulary, into our minds, it needs to be torn out.

Do you want to know why I hate God? I hate weakness. It's all part of 'God's plan.' Let us leave it up to 'God's will.' 'God bless us and keep us for we cannot help ourselves.' I hate it all. Silly children's fairytales. Silly. Muggle. Fairytales.

Losing control of your own destiny. I hate it. The whole concept of being who you are and not being able to change it. I can't stand it. We're all in control of everything we do. There is no guiding light to tempt us off course. We control our destiny. No one, no one can take that away from us. I won't let anyone take that away from me. I'm not afraid of loosing control. Of course I'm not, because there is no God. It's a silly Muggle Fairytale. As a Wizard I can overcome it. I can overcome God, pound it into the ground with my intellect and my magic.

Nothing can hurt me because I'm a pureblood. Even if God did exists, I am not its child. I am not subject to the rules of Heaven and Hell. I can charm my way right out of death until the last possible second, I will charm myself out of God's kingdom. I can fly above the winds of Heaven on my broomstick and defeat or conjure beings worse then any demon. God will never catch up to me. I can outrun it.

I'm not scared.

If the Mudbloods are eliminated, God will go with them. When I cornered Finnigan and saw that little gold chain around his neck, that bloody Half-blood, I tore it from him. I held on to the cross so tightly that it cut into the delicate skin of my hand. Droplets of my blood tainted its golden image. No, my pure blood was tainted by the poison of that trinket. It was like lead in my hand.

That was when I decided that I would take Finnigan like I took his precious bauble. I would crush him in my hands like I crushed that sign of loyalty. The cross transfigured into a ribbon I tied it around his pale neck, marked him as my own with a silken green bow, like a present I had yet to open. But of course, I was never much for waiting until my birthday to receive my gifts. It was such a high taking him. I dare say he enjoyed it more then I did. Oh, I didn't enjoy fucking the bastard, no, I was in it for the power of it. He was mine. He still is mine. I've come up with a clever little spell, whenever that ribbon becomes entangled as part of him he knows what I plan for him.

Perhaps one time when he is over I will be in possession of this book. If that ever is the case my generous nature would prohibit me from not sharing.

Fucking him is like fucking God. God will not be able to judge me by the scope of my sins.

Virginia Weasley : Second Entry : Watch the World go Up in Flames

The tragedy of our lives
Falling to shards in the heavenly motions
Waiting for an undead ghost
Waiting for a terminating infinity
You say you can't feel the pain of the world
While it tears me apart
My glass butterfly
Don't ever leave that cocoon
For I left long ago
The powder flaking from my exposed wings
Is slowly ripping me apart
Stay concealed and strengthen your heart
Being with you
Hurts like stigmata.

I wish I could have gotten this diary sooner. I missed you. But I don't want to write about what I did yesterday. Or rather what I didn't do. Hermione is going to marry Viktor, I just know it. I shouldn't want to stop her but I do. At least I want to think I have a chance. Of course I have a chance. I just have to take it.

And I miss Tom. Writing to you makes me miss Tom. He was my first friend. Even though he made me do terrible things, he was my friend. My first, my only, my friend and my lover. He was like a lover, in a way. He made me feel like a million pieces.

Burn the candle from the dynamite end
Watch the world go up in flames
Ash to ash, flame to mist
Glass paperweight made of steel
I cut my fingers on your edges
But in the end you break yourself

I don't love her, not by a long shot. But she's so terribly desirable. Her hair is untamable but I hate it when she tries to straighten it out. I love the way it's just wild and perfect. She's so calculating and cold sometimes but her hair is what makes her human.

No I don't love her, I don't even like her all that much other then a friend. But she's so fucking desirable.

Ron Weasley : Second Entry : Connections

You're probably all thinking that I'm a little dumb because I know Harry was recording when he told me that he loved me. I probably seemed pretty dumb there. But I knew what he meant. I really did. Obviously whatever it is he wants to tell me is pretty personal and important if he started out the conversation with "I love you Ron." I'm dying to know what it was he wanted to share with me. It's probably something earth shattering like he has cancer or he's taking on Voldemort alone or something. I don't really know. But I guess he lost his nerve or something because he didn't really say anything much after that. He just sort of sat there looking as dumb as I felt.

I didn't want to pressure him in to saying anything he wasn't ready to say. He's my best mate and I know that I'll be the first person he tells no matter what it is. I'll know before Remus or Sirius or Dumbledore, he'll tell me first what it is that's troubling him or what he's planning on doing. He's always told me first.

Now, I know it's not about a girl or something silly like that. Not unless he's trying to steal 'Mione away from Viktor or something like that. Not like I would terribly mind. Something about him, I still don't trust. He's a big hot shot pro Quidditch star. He could have any girl he would ever want. Not like Hermione is a bad choice, she's pretty and intelligent and polite and all that. She's just the kind of girl I would fall for if she weren't Hermione you know? You just don't fall in love with your best friends. I guess what I'm trying to say is if Viktor breaks Hermione's heart I will personally kick the shit out of him. No one messes with my friends.

Well, I guess I would mind a little if Harry were in love with Hermione or something like that. Just because that would kind of make me the third wheel, right? It would be Harryandhermione or Hermioneandharry and then just Ron. But I think it's an unspoken rule that neither of us fancy Hermione. We wouldn't want anything to come between our friendship. It's the three of us against the world you know. It'll always be that way. It's Harryhermioneandron.

So it's probably something about the War. I hope it's nothing that will put him in danger without me. If he's going to run the risk of getting it trouble or killed then I want to be right at his side like I've always been. As long as we're together nothing can touch us, you know? It's not like I'm his sidekick or anything, we're equals in this. Just he's Harry Potter who is famous for surviving as a baby, and now we're famous for fighting him in our own right. Sure, in the end it's Harry that wins the battle but I'm in it for the War too.

I just hope he's not planning on doing any of it without me.