September 3rd
P Dear Diary,
P My name is Kariel Mullins. I am 16 years old, and you are probably thinking (that is, if you could think) why a 16-year-old girl like me would still be keeping a diary. Or better yet, why I am calling it a diary? "Journal" seems more mature and professional, I know, but stick with me- it's still diary for a reason. P
So, to get back on track, I think it's only proper to fill the first few pages of a diary with background and history of myself. After all, if I become famous some day and then die, my fans with want to know the true story of my life. And so, without further adieu- my life...
P I was born in London on October 31st (yes, Halloween) to a wizard by the name of Albert Mullins (aka my father) and a witch by the name of Claudia- Marie Berloin(aka my mother). Life was normal for me as a young witch. I learned the very, very basics in magic and the wizarding world. I spent my days with my mother and older brother David. Then I turned 5...
P
The day after my birthday, Jean, my grandfather (the father of my mother), called saying my grandmother was terribly ill. My family packed up and moved to France (where my mother was born) to be with Grandmother during what would become her last weeks on earth. When we arrived, Grandmother, though extremely sick, had gifts for us all. (Every time we visited them, my grandparents always had gifts for my brother and me) My present was a diary, my first diary in fact. Though I was only five, Grandmother told me to write in it at least once a day. And I did just that, I would make sure I had one sentence written every night before I went to bed.
P Grandmother remained bed-ridden, and my family remained by her side. She died on March 2nd, and I recorded it in my diary, tears stains still visible on the pages. I missed her so much, and I still do. Hence? Why I continue to keep diaries.
P Everybody who knew my grandmother loved her. She was just that type of woman...The entire family came to her funeral. And I mean the entire family- some so distant that the only way we were related was by marriage hundreds of years ago. But everyone who had ever met Grandmother was there. P
I distinctly remember the day of the funeral- every hour- every moment-Thursday, March 17th. It started with me awakening from a dream, forgetting Grandmother was dead, and running downstairs to help her bake cookies as we did every Thursday. Of course, I remembered (she had died) as soon as I got to the empty kitchen, and I broke instantly into tears. I cried so much that morning that I even told my mother I was afraid I'd flood the house if I didn't stop. P
Mother cooked us breakfast. We ate. Mother took me upstairs and Silently dressed me in my puffy black dress, my itchy black hose, and my painful black shoes. But that morning I was in no mood to complain. Mum put in my light brown hair a black headband, and she gave the natural curls below my shoulders an extra bounce for the occasion.
P We finally made it to the funeral house. It was a wizard built building and upon entering through the doors, the large room magically enlarged to comfortably fit everyone attending the funeral. I spent the rest of the morning before lunch with my brother, David. David is five years older than me. He's always a very serious person unless he is trying to cheer someone up, which is precisely what he was doing all morning for me. He cracked off bad jokes that made me giggle, and he chased me around the enormous room to keep me occupied while the adults greeted each other and talked. P
Come lunch, Mother sat me down at a table designated for all the children at the funeral, and there were a lot. I sat between two boys: my brother David and my cousin Draco. The funeral was the first time I had ever met Draco, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. While at lunch, we didn't talk much (not to mention the fact that most five year olds aren't that great at having conversations longer than a minute). P
After lunch we all got took turns viewing Grandmother in her casket. The adults stood around comforting each other and crying with each other, while many children continued to run around playing. Not me. When I saw my grandmother in her casket, I felt a sharp pain in my heart. I told my mother that I thought somebody had stolen part of my heart. I asked if she would help me get it back, and she began crying. She said she loved me a bazillion times and sat me in a corner so she could get more tissues.
P
I sat alone in the corner for a minute, and then Draco came and sat next to me. His eyes weren't wet, red, or puffy like mine were from crying, but it was easy to see how sad he was.
P "Hi," Draco said softly.
P I could only sniff in return.
P "I'm sorry your grandmother went away," he offered, "but I'm sure she's ok."
P "How do you know?" I asked the fair boy, who was no older than me.
P
"I don't...I guess I'm just...I don't know."
P We just looked at each other for a while. It was odd- almost like two adults, one trying to console the other- except we were five. Draco hugged me then. I wrapped my little arms around his neck and held on, afraid to let go. P
And that was it. The beginnings of mine and Draco's complicated relationship, and it only got more complicated as we grew. Draco and I fell asleep in that corner. I woke up back at Grandfather's house and in my own bed. When I woke up, the first thing I did was ask Mother where Draco was. She said he was coming over for dinner later. I went to my room and I made my bed- just for him.
P
Since then, Draco and I have had a very close relationship. When he Went back to England (my family decided to stay and live in France with Grandfather), Draco and I wrote each other constantly. Draco was a second brother to me, always.
P Then he went to Hogwarts. For a while his letters ceased all together. I wrote him a few times, asking why our contact had stopped? Weeks later, he wrote back, telling me everything that had been happening at Hogwarts. But mostly he wrote about his father. He wrote about the way he was pushing Draco harder than usual to become a Death Eater when he was older. Draco wrote saying he was afraid his mother was being abused by Lucius, and that he had been forbidden, at the end of the summer, to write me. Draco told me he obeyed for a while, reading my letters of confusion and wishing he could reply. When Draco finally lost himself and needed someone to go to, I was his first choice. From then on Draco wrote me constantly while at Hogwarts, pausing only when he returned home for holidays. He told me everything about his life: Harry Potter, the bloody git, and all his friends and followers; Draco's own pathetic friends, academic pressures, girls he secretly liked- everything. P
But enough on Draco. Let's move on...
P
November 7, right after my 14th birthday, Death Eaters attacked my family in France where we were still living with my grandfather. By then David was 21, and living in Scotland, working for the Ministry. My parents had bore another child- my sister Gabrielle. She's 12 years younger than me. The Death Eaters attacked by night, killing my Grandfather and severely wounding my mother. P
We felt lucky that we didn't all lose our lives, though we mourned the death of Grandfather Jean. And then, two days after Grandfather's funeral, we received news that my own father was a Death Eater and that he was the one who organized the attack on our family. My father was taken to Azkaban immediately. Turns out, he had been a Death Eater for years, having had joined Voldemort when I was ten. To this day, I have no idea what would cause my father to join Voldemort, nor do I understand why he would try to murder his entire family, but he did. P
David receives information on my father's status in Azkaban frequently. If anything reported to him is important, he sends it to us. For instance, when I was 15, he escaped from Azkaban. David owled us, he told us to go immediately into hiding for our on safety. Then ten minutes later (I am estimating), we received another owl with a letter from David saying my father was caught a mile from Azkaban. He was put in higher security, and nothing has happened regarding him since.
P I recorded everything regarding my father and the attack in my diary.
P
Mother, Gabrielle, and I packed and moved to London, England. David came and spent some time at home with us. Once we had settled in, David left, Mother got a job, and I cared for Gabrielle. Mother hired a wizard to home school me. I went to school at Beauxbatons while we lived in France, but once we moved Mother needed me at home with her; thus, she hired Mr. Shmidul to come and tutor me during the day. I excelled in Potions. I have a gift with Potions you see. But I did well in all my studies.
P
For two years life was pretty much the same. I was tutored, I cared for Gabrielle, and I helped mother. I didn't get out much at all. I didn't have any friends my own age other than Draco and my best friend from France named Zeelinia (aka Zee). Zee and myself kept in touch (and still do) just as Draco and I did.
P Then once again my life changed on my birthday. (I swear I am cursed to have abnormal life altering things happen to me on my birthday!!) My gift from Mother was a letter for Hogwarts, inviting me to attend for my sixth and seventh years. P
That pretty much leads me to where I am right now, sitting in the Hogwarts Express on my way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am thoroughly excited, but who wouldn't be after spending years as a friendless, home-schooled kid with no life? Draco seems semi-excited that I am coming. I bet he is afraid I will ruin his reputation! It seems to me that he is quite the git at school. I'll try to be a good cousin and not destroy what image he has created for himself at Hogwarts over the last five years! No guarantees though!
P But wait! Notice the date is September 3rd! Yes, I am arriving late at Hogwarts. Mother had become very ill a few weeks ago, and obviously, I couldn't abandon her just to catch my train. Dumbledore understood when I explained it all. Mother was bed ridden for a week because of her illness; however, she seems to have fully recovered now.
P
So Dumbledore sent a train to pick me up at eleven this morning. Yeah, I get my on private train. Pretty nice deal, eh? The lady with the sweets trolley gave me a bunch free, and when I get fat, I'll blame her.
P
As for physical description of myself. P
Right now I am average height, with eyes "crystal blue" (Mother's expression). My hair is light brown with a slight curl to it just below my shoulders, and my skin is ivory like my mother's. I am pretty tall-five foot something. I've never had a boyfriend (ah, what a sheltered life I've lived).
P And there it is. The first few pages of this diary are taken up with my brief history and even briefer personal description. Draco told me there's some kind of party supposed to be going on tonight, and he advised me to get some sleep during this train ride. So for now I call it quits. I'm getting a cramp in my hand and arm from writing all this anyway...
P ~Kari
P Dear Diary,
P My name is Kariel Mullins. I am 16 years old, and you are probably thinking (that is, if you could think) why a 16-year-old girl like me would still be keeping a diary. Or better yet, why I am calling it a diary? "Journal" seems more mature and professional, I know, but stick with me- it's still diary for a reason. P
So, to get back on track, I think it's only proper to fill the first few pages of a diary with background and history of myself. After all, if I become famous some day and then die, my fans with want to know the true story of my life. And so, without further adieu- my life...
P I was born in London on October 31st (yes, Halloween) to a wizard by the name of Albert Mullins (aka my father) and a witch by the name of Claudia- Marie Berloin(aka my mother). Life was normal for me as a young witch. I learned the very, very basics in magic and the wizarding world. I spent my days with my mother and older brother David. Then I turned 5...
P
The day after my birthday, Jean, my grandfather (the father of my mother), called saying my grandmother was terribly ill. My family packed up and moved to France (where my mother was born) to be with Grandmother during what would become her last weeks on earth. When we arrived, Grandmother, though extremely sick, had gifts for us all. (Every time we visited them, my grandparents always had gifts for my brother and me) My present was a diary, my first diary in fact. Though I was only five, Grandmother told me to write in it at least once a day. And I did just that, I would make sure I had one sentence written every night before I went to bed.
P Grandmother remained bed-ridden, and my family remained by her side. She died on March 2nd, and I recorded it in my diary, tears stains still visible on the pages. I missed her so much, and I still do. Hence? Why I continue to keep diaries.
P Everybody who knew my grandmother loved her. She was just that type of woman...The entire family came to her funeral. And I mean the entire family- some so distant that the only way we were related was by marriage hundreds of years ago. But everyone who had ever met Grandmother was there. P
I distinctly remember the day of the funeral- every hour- every moment-Thursday, March 17th. It started with me awakening from a dream, forgetting Grandmother was dead, and running downstairs to help her bake cookies as we did every Thursday. Of course, I remembered (she had died) as soon as I got to the empty kitchen, and I broke instantly into tears. I cried so much that morning that I even told my mother I was afraid I'd flood the house if I didn't stop. P
Mother cooked us breakfast. We ate. Mother took me upstairs and Silently dressed me in my puffy black dress, my itchy black hose, and my painful black shoes. But that morning I was in no mood to complain. Mum put in my light brown hair a black headband, and she gave the natural curls below my shoulders an extra bounce for the occasion.
P We finally made it to the funeral house. It was a wizard built building and upon entering through the doors, the large room magically enlarged to comfortably fit everyone attending the funeral. I spent the rest of the morning before lunch with my brother, David. David is five years older than me. He's always a very serious person unless he is trying to cheer someone up, which is precisely what he was doing all morning for me. He cracked off bad jokes that made me giggle, and he chased me around the enormous room to keep me occupied while the adults greeted each other and talked. P
Come lunch, Mother sat me down at a table designated for all the children at the funeral, and there were a lot. I sat between two boys: my brother David and my cousin Draco. The funeral was the first time I had ever met Draco, son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. While at lunch, we didn't talk much (not to mention the fact that most five year olds aren't that great at having conversations longer than a minute). P
After lunch we all got took turns viewing Grandmother in her casket. The adults stood around comforting each other and crying with each other, while many children continued to run around playing. Not me. When I saw my grandmother in her casket, I felt a sharp pain in my heart. I told my mother that I thought somebody had stolen part of my heart. I asked if she would help me get it back, and she began crying. She said she loved me a bazillion times and sat me in a corner so she could get more tissues.
P
I sat alone in the corner for a minute, and then Draco came and sat next to me. His eyes weren't wet, red, or puffy like mine were from crying, but it was easy to see how sad he was.
P "Hi," Draco said softly.
P I could only sniff in return.
P "I'm sorry your grandmother went away," he offered, "but I'm sure she's ok."
P "How do you know?" I asked the fair boy, who was no older than me.
P
"I don't...I guess I'm just...I don't know."
P We just looked at each other for a while. It was odd- almost like two adults, one trying to console the other- except we were five. Draco hugged me then. I wrapped my little arms around his neck and held on, afraid to let go. P
And that was it. The beginnings of mine and Draco's complicated relationship, and it only got more complicated as we grew. Draco and I fell asleep in that corner. I woke up back at Grandfather's house and in my own bed. When I woke up, the first thing I did was ask Mother where Draco was. She said he was coming over for dinner later. I went to my room and I made my bed- just for him.
P
Since then, Draco and I have had a very close relationship. When he Went back to England (my family decided to stay and live in France with Grandfather), Draco and I wrote each other constantly. Draco was a second brother to me, always.
P Then he went to Hogwarts. For a while his letters ceased all together. I wrote him a few times, asking why our contact had stopped? Weeks later, he wrote back, telling me everything that had been happening at Hogwarts. But mostly he wrote about his father. He wrote about the way he was pushing Draco harder than usual to become a Death Eater when he was older. Draco wrote saying he was afraid his mother was being abused by Lucius, and that he had been forbidden, at the end of the summer, to write me. Draco told me he obeyed for a while, reading my letters of confusion and wishing he could reply. When Draco finally lost himself and needed someone to go to, I was his first choice. From then on Draco wrote me constantly while at Hogwarts, pausing only when he returned home for holidays. He told me everything about his life: Harry Potter, the bloody git, and all his friends and followers; Draco's own pathetic friends, academic pressures, girls he secretly liked- everything. P
But enough on Draco. Let's move on...
P
November 7, right after my 14th birthday, Death Eaters attacked my family in France where we were still living with my grandfather. By then David was 21, and living in Scotland, working for the Ministry. My parents had bore another child- my sister Gabrielle. She's 12 years younger than me. The Death Eaters attacked by night, killing my Grandfather and severely wounding my mother. P
We felt lucky that we didn't all lose our lives, though we mourned the death of Grandfather Jean. And then, two days after Grandfather's funeral, we received news that my own father was a Death Eater and that he was the one who organized the attack on our family. My father was taken to Azkaban immediately. Turns out, he had been a Death Eater for years, having had joined Voldemort when I was ten. To this day, I have no idea what would cause my father to join Voldemort, nor do I understand why he would try to murder his entire family, but he did. P
David receives information on my father's status in Azkaban frequently. If anything reported to him is important, he sends it to us. For instance, when I was 15, he escaped from Azkaban. David owled us, he told us to go immediately into hiding for our on safety. Then ten minutes later (I am estimating), we received another owl with a letter from David saying my father was caught a mile from Azkaban. He was put in higher security, and nothing has happened regarding him since.
P I recorded everything regarding my father and the attack in my diary.
P
Mother, Gabrielle, and I packed and moved to London, England. David came and spent some time at home with us. Once we had settled in, David left, Mother got a job, and I cared for Gabrielle. Mother hired a wizard to home school me. I went to school at Beauxbatons while we lived in France, but once we moved Mother needed me at home with her; thus, she hired Mr. Shmidul to come and tutor me during the day. I excelled in Potions. I have a gift with Potions you see. But I did well in all my studies.
P
For two years life was pretty much the same. I was tutored, I cared for Gabrielle, and I helped mother. I didn't get out much at all. I didn't have any friends my own age other than Draco and my best friend from France named Zeelinia (aka Zee). Zee and myself kept in touch (and still do) just as Draco and I did.
P Then once again my life changed on my birthday. (I swear I am cursed to have abnormal life altering things happen to me on my birthday!!) My gift from Mother was a letter for Hogwarts, inviting me to attend for my sixth and seventh years. P
That pretty much leads me to where I am right now, sitting in the Hogwarts Express on my way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am thoroughly excited, but who wouldn't be after spending years as a friendless, home-schooled kid with no life? Draco seems semi-excited that I am coming. I bet he is afraid I will ruin his reputation! It seems to me that he is quite the git at school. I'll try to be a good cousin and not destroy what image he has created for himself at Hogwarts over the last five years! No guarantees though!
P But wait! Notice the date is September 3rd! Yes, I am arriving late at Hogwarts. Mother had become very ill a few weeks ago, and obviously, I couldn't abandon her just to catch my train. Dumbledore understood when I explained it all. Mother was bed ridden for a week because of her illness; however, she seems to have fully recovered now.
P
So Dumbledore sent a train to pick me up at eleven this morning. Yeah, I get my on private train. Pretty nice deal, eh? The lady with the sweets trolley gave me a bunch free, and when I get fat, I'll blame her.
P
As for physical description of myself. P
Right now I am average height, with eyes "crystal blue" (Mother's expression). My hair is light brown with a slight curl to it just below my shoulders, and my skin is ivory like my mother's. I am pretty tall-five foot something. I've never had a boyfriend (ah, what a sheltered life I've lived).
P And there it is. The first few pages of this diary are taken up with my brief history and even briefer personal description. Draco told me there's some kind of party supposed to be going on tonight, and he advised me to get some sleep during this train ride. So for now I call it quits. I'm getting a cramp in my hand and arm from writing all this anyway...
P ~Kari