06/25/93

Look. I can start this stupid journal off in more ways than one, but "Dear Diary" sure ain't one I'd ever use. I'm only writing this because one of the Healers at St. Mungos, where I'm currently at, said that I complain too much for my age, so she gave me this pointless little book to write down all my precious little feelings. As if it's gonna help me be a little less bitter after what I learned yesterday.

I may have little to no recollection of any of the events that occurred in my second year, but all I know is this. I was a lost little puppy at Ilvermorny, not even being able to state my name because of some obliviation attempt gone wrong, so naturally, my Professors immediately sent me off to some Magic Hospital in Boston.

Luckily, none of my memories were erased but rather just locked up, in a sense. I was able to recall everything essential in a matter of a few days or so before they magicked me off to this place while I was sleeping. I maybe, kinda, sorta freaked out. Seriously, imagine waking up in an unfamiliar room, and everyone around you has an accent you've never heard before. Tell me you wouldn't be just a tad freaked out to point you maybe needed to be stunned back to sleep multiple times before someone finally figured out they should talk to you.

Whatever, I eventually got most of my memory a few hours off weird juju stuff being done by a bunch of wizards from all over the world.

Somehow word got out about my case. I became a new magimedical phenomenon, being the first recorded person to recall things from an obliviate spell. It wasn't for any special reason, though, just the fact that whoever cast it was most likely inexperienced, at least that's what that one specialist from Slovakia suggested.

I find it really embarrassing how I asked her if she meant Czechoslovakia. She was nice enough to correct me, but it took me a minute or so to remember that Czechoslovakia split into two countries this year. She laughed it off and explained how she thought my mind wouldn't remember any information that it didn't find essential or peaceful right away unless triggered by some unknown external force.

Some articles written about me were detailed to the point, listing every healer's theories, while others were plain, ridiculous rumors. My favorite headlines so far have been by this lady named Rita Skeeter, most notably her comparing me to Morgana, the evil witch.

Reading what she wrote about me was beyond hilarious, except when she revealed I was a girl just about to turn thirteen. I mean, the people who've seen me are all bound by some worldwide-wizard HIPAA equivalent thing to not share my personal details. The only thing the general public knows about me is my age and sex.

Anyhow, I don't mind being clueless as to why or how I even got obliviated, but they told me yesterday that they found evidence of the confundus charm being used on me much more than any of them have ever seen on a single person. A specialist from Morocco hypothesized it was from multiple people. The most well-known Legilimens tried to see who the culprits could have been, but it turned out to be a bust— each and every time. They couldn't unlock any of those jolly second-year memories. Meaning, there was no way I could stay in Ilvermorny anymore, for my own safety, that's what the letter from Headmaster Fontaine said.

Still kinda being enraged, I vented all afternoon to the day matron that's set to keep an eye on me. She eventually got sick of hearing me whine and just gave me a journal to write out my feelings as if I would be talking to another person. Heck, why not just narrate? I'm on the verge of losing my mind, being locked in this little room.

I've only really been stressed about one thing, and that's my parent's finding out that I need to transfer schools. They're not the biggest fans of me being in wizarding school because it's a distraction from attending regular No-Maj school. I'm managing to juggle both, though. It's not that they aren't supportive. They are. I just don't think they understand the whole magic thing.

Gosh, my days are so boring here. All I do is read, which is fun, but I can't do anything else without people monitoring the heck out of me. It's like they can't just accept that I'm fine. Heck, I can't even get up from the bed to start walking around the room without matrons insisting on keeping me in my room.

I really wanted to send my Grandmother some letter explaining to her I'm doing good because she doesn't have other people to talk to and my mom is always caught up in work. She and my parents don't send many letters anyways during the last two weeks of school since No-Maj schooling has already ended, and they don't wanna disrupt my finals. On that thought, I really hope I got excused from them or something.

No matter how much draught of peace they give me, I wake up multiple times throughout the night. Staying asleep has become such a hassle for me—but that's not why I'm writing. This weirdest happened where I tried to reach for a glass of water three feet away from my bed. I didn't feel like walking out of bed but still reached for it with half my body hanging off the bed. The tall glass zoomed towards my hand. What the actual heck?

I tried to do the same thing with my pen, and it moved! Heck, I just used my pen to scribble shapes under the cover without using my hands or that transcription charm. This is weird. This is gnarly. This is tubular!

Wait, but I think I have to hide this from everyone else. I can't give them another reason to keep me around. I mean, I'm under surveillance 24/7 except when the matrons change their shifts or when I go to sleep.

Now, the day matron usually gets bored of watching me by 3 pm, and then she picks up random editions of Witches Weekly and burns through them. I would admire her reading speed if I wasn't bored out of my mind.

The night matron, on the other hand, is the one that would make conversation with me, but It'd be pretty one-sided. I've been insisting I don't remember anything, and she keeps pushing. Every time she keeps trying to get me to spill my guts, after warming up to me by asking me how my days were, I end up complaining about how bored I am to push her away. This time I wanted to spice things up, so I did this thing where I spoke in that old-timey Hollywood accent.

"Oh goodnass gracious Patrishuh, you have neva experienced such dreadfal evenins and aftahnoons. "

"What do you mean, dear?" she asked with her eyes eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, it's just— looking at these walls all day makes me feel—" I looked into her eyes for a moment then looked away, putting my wrist to my forehead and let out a deep sigh. "oh forgetta bout' it!" I flicked my wrist at her, still not making any eye contact. I peered down at my hands, pouting.

She has her eyes fixated on the linoleum. "We can walk around the halls later. Though we first have to ask Mr.—"

"Oh really? That'd be so evah delightful!" I raced towards the door.

"Raya, not now!" she yelled after me.

"Oh my! How swell is—" I came to a halt looking at the two old men standing near the wall. "Headmaster Fontaine? What are you doing here at this time of night?"

The two both looked at a loss for words until the Gandalf-looking dude cleared his throat.

"Raya, I'd like you to meet a dear friend of mine, Albus Dumbledore."

We shook hands. There was something eerie about the way he looked at me. I can't exactly pinpoint why, though.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Headmaster, to please not tell my parents the details of why I need to transfer, I mean, I don't know how my parents will feel about it, and I don't want to worry them and— " I rambled.

"Oh, do not fret it, Raya, we just came back from informing them about the matter, and they were relieved to know you are doing fine."

Don't fret it? Doing fine? I don't know what he considers fine, but whatever. I just hope my parents didn't actually freak out or anything.

They walked me to an office room in the hospital. I hadn't even seen more than a smidge of the hallway before this. It was a short distance but felt very long because of how quiet they were. Dumbledore magicked some tea for us three, dandelion, I presume. I don't normally drink caffeine because it makes me feel all jittery, but I accepted it anyway because he was already pouring it.

Fontaine brought up the details of my transfer and kept apologizing for not being aware of what went down. Dumbledore was awfully quiet, tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair.

"In discussion with your parents, we mutually agreed that Hogwarts would be the best school for you to transfer to, Albus here is the Headmaster," said Fontaine.

"Oh cool," I looked to Dumbledore and asked, "is that in Connecticut or something?" I took a sip of tea.

Gandalf looked me straight in the eye and said, "Scotland, actually."

I coughed on my drink. "Sorry, but I thought I was moving to a school in a different state, not a different country."

They both explained how Hogwarts was the only safe choice, and I eventually gave up on trying to comprehend why it was necessary for me to go to Hogwarts specifically. Dumbledore said they'd be more than happy to accommodate anything and kinda talked down to me as if I was five.

Oh, but the highlight of my day is finding out that I'd be released in time for summer classes that begin on the first day of July. Yay.