From the Journal of Harry Spellforged
The 18th day of Dov'agh, The 207th year of Qul'Meyvap
(or 21 June 1993)

Page one.

I have a stack of journals in my quarters, here at Gringotts. Several are my own, starting from my eighth birthday, when Father showed me his journals and gave me my first. Others are less personal, though equally important to me.

Mother gave me one of her old cursebreaking journals, wherein she logged the various curses she and her team encountered on a dig in Pakistan. Uncle Paul gave me a journal with some of his notes on arithmancy, including the beginnings of the paper that earned him his mastery. Father gave me one of his journals, from his time as a delegate to the high clans. Some of the goblins he encountered during that three year period are still active today, including three chiefs of other branches of Gringotts - people I will have to do business with, someday.

It fits, I think, that I'm starting a new journal right at the end of another school year. It lets me gather my thoughts and put them into perspective. That's part of why Father does it, and part of why he wanted me writing as well.

So, here, on the first page, is the balance of my life laid bare.

Do I use the English date, based on the death of a religious figure nearly two millennia ago? Or the lunar calendar I grew up with, with the fifth month named for a warrior and the year counted as the two-hundred and seventh year since the last war? Not even of peace, for the word /Qul'Meyvap/ would most closely be translated as "ceasefire", and no ceasefire was ever permanent.

But I digress.

Harry's Plans for Summer before third term

1 - Cure Astoria Greengrass

1a - Teach others Goblin Shorthand

2 - Find (Professor?) Alexandria Knight-Ketterhagen

3 - Project Circle of Friends

4 - Get others to start keeping journals

One, obviously, is the most critical, though the reason relates most with item three. Rose is close friends with Daphne Greengrass, and I get along with her as well. But the key difference is that I know Astoria much better than I know her older sister, both as a housemate as because she is one of Erik's close friends. Luna is her roommate, but admits that Astoria and Erik are thick as thieves, most of the time.

I'd like to think that I would want to help Astoria simply because I can - I have resources that would not otherwise come into play, and I have no qualms about leveraging those assets. But the fact that Rose knows her well makes me even more inclined to help. There, my reasons are selfish - what if Rose's Astoria falls ill someday?

In that case, having the cure for what ails her on hand would be of immense value.

So, how to cure the incurable disease? Here, I have no clue. What I do have are five patients, each identical to the others, except that only one exhibits symptoms. If I could have the same medical charms performed on each Astoria, and then get all five in front of Marigold, then maybe, just maybe, we might see something.

Did something with Astoria change here that triggered the curse? The most obvious difference is her sorting into Ravenclaw, but if that were the case she would have gotten ill in September. Luna tells me that she had no other illnesses during the year, apart from girl things.

When I foolishly asked for details, thinking that any information might help, Luna laughed in my face and told me not to ask questions I did not want answered. Then Hermione elbowed me in the ribs, and I got it. I sheepishly told her that I had grown up in a cave, which got both girls laughing with me and not at me.

So, how do I get a healthy Astoria to consent to a diagnostic charm? I don't, but that's a problem the others will have to sort out. It will definitely be easier for Rose than for Chaser, I think.

Even then, how do we get a copy of each diagnostic to Marigold? Well, here I may have an idea, if I can work out the details. If I can somehow teach the others to write in shorthand, then we could simply read off a few letters and end up passing along a full sheet of parchment's worth of information. Now, the trick would be translating it on each end and making sure nothing gets changed - one wrong symbol, and "She's perfectly healthy" turns into "Wizard Cancer!", which defeats the whole purpose.

I learned shorthand from Foecleaver directly, but for the others they'll need some sort of instruction. Are there textbooks that document shorthand? If so, are those textbooks in the Goblin tongue or in English?

I need to think more about this. Maybe I'll ask Luna.

There's another item for the list, skipping down to number three. I simply have no idea what to make of Luna Lovegood. She is, without a doubt, the most observant person I've ever met - and I grew up with the Goblins! No one else has ever deciphered the link, except her, and she even knew the names of Rose and Marigold. When I explained the quidditch references, she understood Seeker and Chaser as well.

"It must be nice to have brothers and sisters," she said. "Treasure them."

That got me thinking - what of the other four Lunas? How did they fare in Ravenclaw, without me there? I suspect she would still have found a new friend in Erik, and perhaps Rose's Hermione as well. But of everyone in our Ravenclaw, she seems closest to me - which worries me a little, to be honest.

I need to encourage the others to befriend her, I think.

I still need friends outside of Ravenclaw, though. The others continue to reach across house divides, while I surround myself with blue robes - nothing wrong with that, but I feel like I need to reach out more than I have. I plan to send letters this summer to Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones. Neville's parents were close friends with mama and Papa Potter, and I'd like to think that we would get along as well as he seems to with the gryffindor three. Susan's aunt is my godmother, and while I've spoken with her quite a bit over the past two years, I haven't really spent much time with Susan. It's high time I changed that.

As for the rest? Chaser has me curious about his Defense professor. While we've not discussed her specifically, I wonder why she didn't end up a professor here as well as there. So I'm going to look up the Knights and Ketterhagens, and see what I can find. If she exists here, maybe she needs a job?

It will undoubtedly be a busy holiday - my favorite kind.

oOoOoOoOo

24 June 1993

Harry,

Yes, next time I'm in Diagon Alley I'd love to stop by and have lunch. My Gran will probably be there with me, if that's alright. If that doesn't work, maybe we can meet up for ice cream or something. I mean, whatever you want is fine, just let me know.

Thanks for the letter,

Neville Longbottom

oOoOoOoOo

25 June 1993

Dear Harry,

I hope your summer has started off as well as mine has. Daddy tells me that we'll be travelling for most of the holiday, so I won't be able to visit that often. Maybe I'll come with him to the office on the Alley, and we can have lunch?

Whenever you teach the others how to write in your secret Goblin code, can I learn too? That way, you and I will be able to actually talk about the super secret project you're working on without worrying about revealing too much to daddy and whoever else sees our letters.

Until then, I guess I'll have to feed the wrackspurts. So, don't forget to tell what's-her-name about the you-know-what in the book about that-one-thing you got from you-know-where. She'll probably have seen it already, but will want confirmation.

Tell your mother and father I said hello. I already wrote to Erik, but you can tell him I said hello as well.

Luna

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Chaser Potter
21 June 1993

How weird is it that I kind of think of myself as Chaser when I write here?

Seeker and I talk sometimes about why we play the positions we play. For him, his first time on a broom was when he chased Malfoy during their flying lesson, while I've been flying for years. He's never been to a match between real league teams, while I've been to a dozen. I even went to a camp one summer, though under a fake name and glamours to keep Uncle Padfoot from freaking out about my safety.

Even with years of flying, though, from the sound of it Seeker might be the better of the two of us - on a broom, at least.

What he doesn't have is my eye.

Dad has had me running chaser drills for years now, and I like to think I'm a good shot. I'm proud of what I can make a quaffle do, you know - and so is my dad. It's all in the wrist, after all.

One summer, Dad took me to lunch in muggle London, and we ended up in one of those pubs where there are televisions everywhere with different sports on them. I saw one that had a game called baseball on, and couldn't take my eyes off of it. There's a player who throws a ball at a batter, and the batter has to hit the ball to put it in play. It's not like Quidditch, where the balls are always in play, so it seemed odd at first.

Then I saw the pitcher throw the ball. Wow.

That man could do anything he wanted with that ball. He could put spin on it and make it curve in the air, he could throw it fast, or he could make it look fast but actually fly slower, all to trick the batter into swinging at it and missing.

Baseball wasn't the only muggle sport that made me rethink being a chaser. Dad told me a story one time about my grandfather on mom's side. He used to play a game called cricket, where - again - one player throws a small ball at another. This time, the 'bowler' is trying to knock over a 'wicket', and the batter is trying to stop the ball. It's more complicated than that, but you get the idea.

Spin, bounce, arm movement - everything combined to let a good bowler do pretty much whatever he wants. That's the sort of chaser I want to be. Put a quaffle in my hand, and tell me where to fly, and I want to know that I'll get that quaffle in the goal every time.

I found myself thinking about the fight with the diary, this past winter. When the Sorting Hat presented Marigold with aid, it gave her the Shield of Gryffindor. Later, when Rose faced off against the basilisk, the hat produced the lost Blade of Slytherin. Now, if Seeker had been in that position, I'm betting he'd pull out the Sword of Gryffindor. Spellforged - if he didn't rely on his own knife - would end up with a ridiculous Goblin axe or something.

So, what would I end up with? I don't know, did Godric Gryffindor ever have a famous bow? I don't see myself charging in and swinging a sword. No, I picture myself at the edge of the battle, waiting for the exact moment to strike - and then making sure that my arrow flies true.

That's the big difference between Seeker and I, I think. He has to rely on luck, because he really can't control when and where the snitch will pop up. Me? I have to make my own luck.

I'm proud of the name my siblings have given me. Chaser. It fits.

oOoOoOoOo

28 June 1993

Dear Pup,

I'm happy that you're enjoying the holiday so far. Your dad told me that you came home with a stack of study guides for Defense - good on you! Just don't study too hard. Listen to me, telling someone not to study too hard - I'm sure your dad can tell you why that's funny.

It's flattering of you to suggest that I'd make a good teacher, but I'm happy with the job I've got. The hours are good, the pay is great, and I get to see your dad more often than I would as a professor.

You're young, so you probably don't quite get the lure. I understand that. So I'll make you a deal - when you're old enough, I'll give you the first bottle we finish on your birthday, and you can have your first taste of Scotch, courtesy the distillery that bears your family's name.

I'll be up next week to see you, since it's a full moon. After I'm recovered, maybe we can talk Padfoot and your dad into a pickup game?

Take care,

Uncle Moony

oOoOoOoOo

29 June 1993

Dear Uncle Moony,

Who says you can't teach history and run Potter Distillery at the same time?

If you wrote down half of what you told me last winter about Salazar Slytherin, I'd bet you could get your Mastery in History. After that, well - I know a certain third year who would rather have you tutoring him in history than sit through another year learning about the Goblin Rebellions.

Hey, wait a second - do Goblins learn about the rebellions in their school? I bet they do. I wonder what they call them. Wizarding Wars, I'd think.

Maybe that's a project for your mastery - cultural differences between the Goblin Nation and Wizarding Britain.

Or maybe I'm overthinking it. Or maybe I'll get my Mastery with that topic, and you'll be out of luck. Better get moving, Moony!

See you next week,

Harry

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Marigold Potter
21 June 1993

Today was the first Monday of the holidays, and I've already made a spectacle of myself.

Hermione invited me over to her house for the first week of vacation. She and her parents are travelling for most of the holiday, and they suggested that she spend some time with one of her friends. So, I get a reprieve from the Dursleys for an extra week.

(I'm much less worried about this summer than the last, now that they've had a year of therapy and enough group sessions to get themselves together. And, really, I'll be spending more time with Sirius than I will with the Dursleys this summer. So, things are happening. Not fast enough for my liking, though, but what can you do?)

This morning, at my request, we went with Hermione's mum to the family dentist's office. Hermione wanted to show me the family business, and give me a tour of Crawley. I kind of wanted to see how a muggle healer's office worked. Doctor Granger ("Call me Charlotte, dear") noticed my interest, and loaned me an old copy of a book called Gray's Anatomy.

By midmorning, with patients coming in, we decided to walk through town and visit some of the shops. When Hermione told me about Crawley, I always pictured a small little village, but the reality is that there are almost 70,000 people who live here. Plenty of people to fill a good dentist's schedule.

It also means that there's plenty to see. That, unfortunately, was the problem.

The fourth shop we visited was an old record store. There were aisle upon aisle of crates, each with stacks of vinyl records of every kind. Cassette tapes lined the walls. They even had compact discs, new enough that I hadn't even seen them yet, Dudley not being much of a music lover.

Hermione, of course, went right to the new thing, wanting to see how exactly they worked. I browsed some of the records, smiling at her eager questions for the hapless clerk.

I heard someone mention that an artist named David Bowie had his whole catalogue copied onto the shiny little discs, and was one of the first musicians to do so. As a demonstration, the clerk decided to play one of his favorites.

The faint sound of drums did nothing. Nor did the first strains of guitar. It wasn't until the man's voice came onto the track that I felt something go wrong.

Let's back up. I had no idea who the hell Major Tom is, or why he needs his protein pills and his helmet. I still don't. But there was something about that song that just wrecked me. I had my back to Hermione and the clerk, so they did not see me begin to weep. The thing that bothers me is this - I started crying before the sad part of the song.

I guess Major Tom goes up into space and floats around, as one does, and then his capsule develops a problem and he can't return home. So he just floats off into space, where I guess he dies in some horrifying way after the song ends. I didn't care about Major Tom. If you asked me, I would tell you that I had never heard that song before in my life. Yet here I was, weeping, the instant the tune hit my ears.

Hermione saw that my hair was beginning to get a bit of static, a sign of accidental magic waiting to happen. When the CD skipped a bit, she thanked the clerk and ushered me out of the store. We ended up sitting on a park bench while I calmed down. By the time we had lunch with her mother, I was fine.

By mutual agreement, neither of us mentioned the incident. The fact that Hermione doesn't have a dozen questions for me just tells me how well she knows my moods - and how serious she is about giving me my space.

I need to talk to Madam Cornwall. Maybe I'll send her an owl tonight.

oOoOoOoOo

23 June 1993

Golden Girl,

I'll admit, I have very little idea what sort of music your mum and dad liked. That's not to say that they didn't enjoy music, both muggle and magical, but simply that I couldn't tell you any of their favorite bands or acts or whatever.

If I heard a song they enjoyed, I might remember it. Might. There are some memories that just won't be the same after a decade, Mari, and unfortunately music is a big one. When is relaxing and listening to good music not a happy memory?

You should give your friend Hermione a hug - she already wrote to me asking the same questions as you did. She's a friend for life, that one.

I'm still coming to your friend's house for dinner next Tuesday, so we can talk more then, if you like. It'll be nice to meet Hermione and her parents. And, of course, it's always a pleasure to spend time with my favorite goddaughter.

Take care, Mari.

Love,

Padfoot

oOoOoOoOo

2 July 1993

Dear Marigold,

I never did properly thank you for helping me get caught up with classes this year. Getting petrified was not how I wanted to start off my time at Hogwarts, as you know - but it worked out in the end, and my grades were much better than I expected.

You and Neville and Hermione should open a tutoring business. You'd make money hand over fist - that's how much you three helped me out.

Enclosed is a small gift. It's just a muggle picture, of course, but of all the shots I took this year, it's one of my favorites. I took it just as the boats rounded the edge of the lake, and the castle came into view. It seemed like the sky cleared for just that moment, and the castle was lit up and shining.

I call it A Beginning. Hope you like it.

Have a good summer! Thanks again.

Best,

Colin Creevey

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Rose Potter
21 June 1993

I'm not writing in a fucking journal, Spellforged, are you insane? Did you see what writing in a diary did to Ginny Weasley? I don't care if it's a muggle journal or an enchanted one - Nope.

oOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Rose Potter
22 June 1993

I know. I'll turn this into a grimoire, filled with custom spells. Astoria already plans to go into spellcrafting, I'll bet she'd love to have an assistant.

Our first hex? Something that will smack a certain ravenclaw upside the back of the head across time and space.

Maybe if I ignore him, he'll get the hint. Oh, wait, he's literally in my head.

oOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Rose Potter
24 June 1993

How can someone who I've never met know me so well?

Spellforged asked if I had written in my journal yesterday, and I told him that I had. After a moment, he just said "Really?" It was as if he was not mad, but disappointed, and it annoyed the hell out of me.

I'm stuck with this, aren't I?

oOoOoOoOo

27 June 1993

Dear Rose,

Tori and I both keep journals, as you know. Honestly, I'm surprised it took you this long to pick up the habit. It helps to talk things through with yourself, sometimes. You should stick with it. You never know, you might be able to explain things to yourself and have them make more sense than they did before.

Two weeks! Tori has already set up the tent and made sure it's just the way we want it. Dad has supplies ready to go. I've even talked Mom into coming along.

Worst case, we get to go camping for a week and just relax. But if you're right, and there is a secret manor house on Gairsay Island? Can you imagine how exciting a find that would be?

Can't wait.

DG

oOoOoOoOo

28 June 1993

Daphne,

You have absolutely no idea how right you are. As usual.

I'm ready to go today, honestly - think your dad could be talked into cutting his trip short to come home early? He can stop by Surrey on the way home, I wouldn't mind a bit.

Rose

oOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Rose Potter
29 June 1993

...Fine.

But if I catch myself writing Dear Diary, I'm going to burn this journal immediately and be done.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

From the Journal of Harry Potter
22 June 1993

I've spent a day thinking about what to write in this journal. I'm not fighting the idea like Rose is, I want to get my thoughts down onto paper and read through them. I just don't know what to talk about.

I can't even really talk about myself, can I? After all, there's sort of five of me.

Spellforged has his projects and his Goblin training. Rose has her expedition, as she called it, to unearth the secrets of Gairsay Island. Marigold is jumping into healing with both feet. Chaser is travelling with our his father, and probably doing quidditch stuff.

I'm sitting in my room on Privet Drive, writing.

Should I be busier? I don't know. Padfoot says that I should enjoy being young while I have the chance, because once you're old, you're old. But even so, I feel like I need to grab my life with both hands and do something with it.

My big Hogwarts project is bridging the divide between the houses, but even then Rose has had more immediate success than I have. She has half a dozen witches across three houses - four, if you add her Neville in, even though he pretty much tutors in Herbology.

Meanwhile, I have Daphne Greengrass. I know she'll end up being a close friend as time goes by, because that's just how she is. The fact that a version of her is already close friends with a version of me just proves the point.

How would I handle things differently if I didn't have examples and counterpoints swimming in my head? Would I just have accepted Lockhart if I didn't have the example of Professor Knight to compare him to? Would I have gone into the third floor corridor if I hadn't known what to expect?

I would not trade my siblings in for anything - they are my family. Even as close as I know Padfoot and I will be, I'll never have him in my head as I do with my brothers and sisters.

It also means that I need to work harder, I guess.

Oh - so I just had a thought over dinner. Vernon was talking about some shipment of knock-off parts that ended up breaking one of the machines at his work. They looked exactly the same, but the metal wasn't as strong, and they broke under pressure.

Am I a version of my siblings, or are they versions of me? And if push comes to shove, will I be the knock off version of Spellforged? One that breaks under pressure?

No, I don't think I am. I think I just need to get out of this house and go do something.

I've got nine weeks ahead of me. I'd better make them count.

oOoOoOoOo

25 June 1993

Dear Harry,

Of course, I'd be happy to assist you in any way I can. I know you've already met Foecleaver, but I would be happy to sit in on a meeting between the two of you, if you like. My oath is to both you personally and to House Potter, so you can believe me when I tell you that I will keep your welfare first and foremost in my mind as we go.

The work at The Hague is mostly done - thank you, magic! The biggest challenge in building wizarding structures is knowing when to use charms and runes and the like to make the space do what you want it to do - and when not to. The good architects know how to manage this balance in a way that serves the needs of whoever plans to use the building.

The great architects, on the other hand? They know to use only as much magic as necessary.

It's a fine line to walk. When you see the Atrium next month, I think you'll understand. You and Sirius are still coming, right?

Let me know when you're staying with the esteemed Lord Black in London, and I'll make a point to stop by for dinner one night. If you have more questions, keep them coming - I may not be able to answer everything, but what I can tell, I will.

Your Servant,

Joseph Hillyer
Proxy for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter


A/N: If I left off the headings for each section, I believe you'd still be able to tell who wrote what. That I feel good about how this little interlude came together is a huge relief, because it's easily the sort of chapter that could fall apart under scrutiny. Here, I wanted to give each of the five a moment to talk to the camera, for lack of a better term. I hope it works as well as I think it does.

The one corner I cut was in the first three lines. I don't know what names Goblins may come up with for their months, nor do I have any idea what to use as a word for "ceasefire". So, I may have used Klingon. This, of course, reinforces the idea that the Goblin Nation is actually some odd blend of Ferengi and Klingon culture.

No, I'm not writing another AU. If you want to write about Goblins being an offshoot of Klingons, have at. I just wanted to steal a few words, because lazy.

Feedback, as always, is welcome.