September 1, 1992

God. Already another year has passed since the first time I saw that wretched boy. And now I have to deal with him yet again, and that Weasley boy as well. Flew directly into that bloody tree which has caused me so much pain in the past, landed me so far into a debt that I can never even begin to repay. And how can I? Sworn to protect the very boy I was once meant to kill? Never directly, perhaps, but still. I can never forget what I once was. As if my own hatred for the boy were not enough, I have this burning hatred in my flesh, the hated of hundreds, the hatred of what can only be described as pure evil. God knows what I would give for a moment of rest, of peace.

What I would give for that boy to be out of Hogwarts forever! It is a desire that goes beyond personal vendetta. With him gone, it is simply one more worry that will leave my mind for good. To have a life debt on top of everything else that I must do, it is almost too much. But I will endure, as I always have. And always will. But still, every moment I can, every opportunity that presents itself, I will try to get that boy out of this school for good. May Albus forgive me.

It is so cold down here, alone. So cold now that Albus has gone, and Minerva. It never bothers me, the loneliness, until someone comes down and reminds me just how lonely it is. Just as I begin to accustom myself, there is always someone who appears, as if there is something out there that forbids me to become used to the solitude. No matter how many times I tell myself I don't care, I begin to wonder, how much of that is because it's true, and how much is because I have no alternative? I don't care, because to care would mean I feel, and if I felt, that would mean I was like the rest of them up there. And if that were the case, I would have gone mad long ago.

November 7, 1992

The boy, Draco, is a fool. He has his father's looks, yes, but tact seems to have been bred out of the Malfoy gene pool.

November 18, 1992

Salazar. Damn you to the lowest of the nine hells. With all that is going on now, this is the last thing I need added to my troubles. If this keeps up, I fear I will be too drained to be able to concoct the potion needed once the mandrakes mature, and if that is the case, I haven't the slightest idea where that leaves us all.

At times, I don't know which is worse, having to bear up under the weight, or the strain of having to hide my weakness. Whatever it is, I can feel my strength slowly leaving me every day. To make matters worse, Lucius is calling in one of his many favors from years past, reminding me that ever second I spend in debt to him is dearly paid for. There are times when I feel I cannot bear one more moment of his hands on my skin, and yet bear it I must. I am so used to lying by now that it is no longer a challenge to speak the words he wishes to hear. It has gotten to the point where they don't even stick in my throat as they used to, among other things. The actual act was never a problem, never an issue. It could never be called rape, no matter how one were to look at it. There was a time when I sought him at nights, when I was the one to name the time, the place. Even now, there is a perverse pleasure I get when he calls me to him. And yet, I shall never be able to feel his hands on my body without a shudder running through my very bones. Those hands which have held the wand that brought unimaginable pain...how can they feel so light, so gentle? Every parody of a lover's caress leaves trails of ice on my skin. Even now I feel the tiny pricks along my arms as my skin remembers his touch. Nothing could ever make me forget, for my body would betray me, even if my mind should obey.

Sometimes I find myself wishing for the gaze of Salazar's pet. To feel first the shock of the brute's eyes, then the blessed nothingness. To be frozen in time, suspended in a limbo of neither life nor death, it is all I could ever ask now. It is the closest I could ever come to rest. And yet, if that were to happen, where would that leave us? I am the only one who can brew the potion to save the others...I am the only one. I am needed again, required for a task of mere moments, and then my usefulness will run out again. Tolerated, but never accepted. Never wanted, desired. Only used. Dumbledore tells me time and time again that it is untrue, yet...but enough. I will not let myself sink into the depths of self-pity. I will not allow it, I will not. I cannot.

Perhaps the reason I permit Lucius his play is because it was one of the first and few times that someone ever wanted me. Needed me, and me alone. And for that I was grateful.

January 28, 1993

Our situation grows worse with every passing moment. Too many have already fell prey to this thing that continues to plague our school. There are times when I feel as if though I hear an echoing voice throughout the walls, and yet I know that is crazy. And then at the dueling club the other night, when young Malfoy, damn his incompetent bloodline, let loose the snake upon Finch-Fletchly. I almost believe Potter when he claims to have been trying to stop the serpent. Almost. I can almost swear I heard him, beneath the hissing, I could almost swear it...

Yet this is not the sort of thing one goes around admitting. Even if it were true, even if it were possible that I could speak with a serpent's tongue, I would not care to have it known. Even I would not care to know. That is a fact I could go the rest of my life without confirming. Besides, the words I speak are uttered with a forked tongue anyway. I only pray that mine shall always be just that much quicker, more keen than Lucius'. Dumbledore's too, for that matter. Even without the gift of Parseltongue, I am adept is conversing with serpents of another class entirely. Lucius lacks only the scales. God knows he has spent enough time slithering around on his belly before our Master to be mistaken for a real snake.

Serpents, yes. For I fear I know what it is that lays behind the walls of our school, that petrifies with its very gaze. And yet, I fear that if I am correct, there will all too soon be a student lying not in the Hospital Wing, but instead in the morgue.

Ah, speaking of the morgue. There is one here who might end up there soon, regardless of whether the beast is destroyed, and I can't say the prospect displeases me unduly. Gilderoy Lockhart. The most frivolous, useless lump to ever call itself a wizard. I hope those who are responsible for his existence have already passed away, for surely the knowledge of having spawned this...thing is enough for any self respecting wizard to die of shame.

February 19, 1993

I would kill that man if I had the energy. I honestly feel that I would. Of all the brainless, incompetent, oxygen thieving prats that ever had the poor taste to set foot in this castle! Defense Against the Dark Arts, bah! Why, Albus, why? Do you trust me so little that you would prefer to give even him a chance before myself? Do you trust me so little even now? What must I do, Albus, what must I do to convince you? What have I ever asked for, Albus? Have I ever asked for anything before this? Ever? Nothing save my own life, and that only with persuasion. Now, at times, I wonder if it was worth it. For what good is life when everyone else wishes you were dead?

February 21, 1993

Amazing, that they believe the Potter boy responsible for this. A mere child could never undertake such a venture as to open the Chamber. Even Draco, as the whispers go, is not exempt from suspicion. Foolish boy. All of his father's sadism and charm, none of his subtlety. Ah, Lucius, do you recall those days? We were the greatest thing this school ever knew. We had it all, power, reputation, infamy, fear. And it was all ours to do with as we wished. Children such as they will never understand what greatness is. Not like we did.

And yet, that greatness was not without price. I found that out all too quickly. For you were the born leader, the charismatic one, the charmer. I was the brains, the schemer, the planner. Yet, you too had those talents, those capabilities. You could have survived without me, I would have failed miserably without you. At first, I never could figure out why you wanted me with you all the time. You could have succeeded brilliantly on your own. You didn't need me. It took me months to figure this out, and still more after to realize what this meant. What a fool I was.

May 8, 1993

Damn. Damn Lucius and his influence! What worse could happen now? The best is on the loose in the castle, the rest of the staff is on the verge of panic, and now this! Damn you, Lucius, and damn myself for every time I looked on you actions with pride in my heart. Now all I feel is sickness. Albus was the only thing holding this school together in this time of crisis. Now he's gone, and I don't know what to do. No one does. Damn you, Lucius, damn you a thousand times.

May 29, 1993

So it has finally happened. One of our own has been taken. Should I feel guilt at those words? Our own. There are many out there who would tell me I have to right to these words, not when the one in question is a student here at Hogwarts. Not a Gryffindor, surely. They have nothing to do with me. After all, I was once out to undo everything those dear Gryffindors stood for. I am a liar, a cheat and a traitor, one who does not even give a damn about anyone not from my own precious House. Of course not. No one would ever believe that I would give anything to have someone with a sensible head on their shoulders, even a bloody Gryffindor instead of this idiot Draco Malfoy, or his two lurking soldiers.

Not that I, even now, am not proving them correct in their judgment. After all, if I had truly cared, I would not have sent Lockhart down after the girl. I would have gone down after her myself. I would not be sitting here now, pouring my heart out to a godforsaken book! Dammit all! I should be down there, dammit, me! Not that air headed, feather brained, good-for-nothing goose! I continue to tell myself there was nothing else I could do, that sending Lockhart down there was to do nothing but get him out of the way until we came up with a sound plan, and yet...and yet it should have been me. I don't know if I stand a chance against a beast of that nature, but still-- it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what House she is from, she's a girl! An innocent girl who had nothing to do with any of this. Another innocent caught in Voldemort's intrigue. And, as always, I do nothing but stand in the sidelines and watch.

And yet, how I wish...

June 18, 1993

So much work. Always so much work at end of term, this year more than others. The Potter boy succeeded, of course. Not that I even knew that he tried until he came back up. But he did and lived, defeated the beast and its Master. Lord knows how he did it. Albus knows, but isn't telling, and I was never one to pry. I am quite accustomed to waiting by now, and even more used to my patience go unrewarded. This is no exception.

The mandrakes matured several weeks ago, part of the reason for my preoccupation. The potion is a difficult one, hard to master. No fear of failure, of course, but requisite of my concentration nonetheless. Thank Merlin that's over with.

Home bound in the morning. Another day, another year, another summer. Then back to do it all over again. Pray Lucius has no further use for me the next few months. I could use the rest.