25th June
He is there, as always; a smile on face and a sherbet lemon to hand.
"Marion," he says, "Welcome."
I step past him into the study. Like so many things about Albus, it hasn't aged a day. The whizzing whirling silver instruments on their spindly little tables; the books I read and loved. The portraits whose banter amused me for hours. Especially Dippet: I always argued with Dippet.
I take a seat; and as I do I see the Sorting Hat, the most amazing piece of headgear that I'll never wear.
"Ah, Marion," he used to say, "I'd give my hatband to know what goes on in that brain of yours. You'd make a fine addition to the gallery of hatstalls."
As my eyes roam from the Hat, I catch sight of the old stool on which I would learn my lessons less than five years previous. Those rickety old legs that I would my own around. I would balance a book on my knee and read it when Albus was busy with a meeting. And I would pretend not to listen.
But the nostalgic sight I am happiest to see has to be Albus.
Two hours later, and my head's reeling. I explained my vision to Albus, in detail and he revealed its meaning. He inquired after other visions; of which I had none. I was told all of the facts, but I'd swap my arm for an opinion. They tell me the most.
Thoughts, feelings are fleeting so I can barely recognise them, fractions of what they once were.
Cedric's dead. My friend, my stout and loyal Cedric, my true preserver and the person who has never lied to me. How awful it is, that a curse should miss the false and conniving, and never fail to strike the good and innocent. At the end of the day, there are two types of people. The quick and the dead.
He rescued me. Didn't flinch from saving me, no fear just thoughtless help and unswerving devotion. He went out of his way to pull me through when it would have been less daunting or grisly to leave me to fate's unreliable hands. I was a wreck of unsound mind. But nevertheless, he was there for me. But I couldn't be there for him; and that hurts me most of all.
It was Quirrell who was the means of my distress. Less than half a week before his own demise, we had duelled. For him, it was fear. For me it was anger, suspicion and defence. I had confronted him about his behaviour, threatened him. But I'm not Severus Snape, I was a three foot something or other seven year old with bad teeth and a thick Welsh accent, struggling to construct an English sentence. But he attacked me anyway. Must be the Voldemort effect, to attack something that's not even a threat to you. He was thirty; I was seven.
Guess who won?
He was too powerful for my inexperience. I was hidden behind a statue and left to die.
And in this state I was left; for Cedric to find me and carry me to hospital, where Poppy Pomfrey worked tirelessly day and night to basically save my life.
That is a debt I can never pay, not now or ever.
Albus wants me to talk to his parents. I'm not a teacher of his, or a relative- I can't even call myself a classmate. But I'm a friend to him as I am to all. He said I could help.
For Amos, well- he may as well be attending his own funeral. This is awful. No parent should ever have to bury their child.
This is why, if they ever bury Adelaide; they'll bury me too.
In true Ministerial fashion, Fudge isn't helping. I grit my teeth; he is my employer, a single complaint and I'll be out on my ear. But underneath this blank face deep passions burn, blood boils. I'm almost a teenager; he'd be stupid to disregard my emotions. I'm no automaton.
But really, my blood boils. How many more must die to convince him? What other logical explanation can cause Cedric's death? There may be plenty his brainbox can come up with, but this is not a logical situation. If he says it's Cedric's fault, or something equally stupid, I could actually find it in me to kill him.
The moment he brings in that Dementor, my hand is on my wand. This can only end badly. People my age are sleeping less than a minute's float from that thing. That kind of thoughtless action ends lives and if I intrude on Ministry property by hurting that vile creature, I won't regret it. Honestly, if someone gets to Fudge before I do, I'm not sending them to prison. Au contraire, they get a b****y Honeydukes' gift voucher on me.
But enough of Fudge. I really must control myself around him. He isn't evil. Just stupid. And really, really annoying.
Dumbledore has a proposal.
"I want you and Joan too, to join the reinstated Order of the Phoenix. I have use for you skills."
I freeze. This is it. Heading off to the front line against Lord Voldemort, a piece in chess game of intrigue. There's only so long I have left. At this point, life starts petering out.
He wants me to embark on the most dangerous experience of my life.
I'll meet my father again. It's been over five years but we'll know each other.
I said yes. I will join. I don't want to go it alone any more. The world is hard on one person. But two plus- that's different. Joanie won't object, but I've made no obligation. She makes her own mind.
Albus frowns at me.
"Are you sure? This is what you really want?"
What I want. Not many people ask that of me. I'm given a job and left alone. Choice is a privilege.
"That is what I must do. There is no other way."
He shakes his head at me.
"This is the last thing I wanted for you, from the start. "
"But that was then. I must defend my niece's future, in the here and the now. "
"You gamble, and for the highest stakes Miss Popyngcart."
"Risk does not come into it. It never did."
And then he leaves to visit Harry and Dobby comes in with some lunch for me.
"Dobby has come to give Madam Popyngcart some lunch. Dobby thought she would be hungry."
"Dobby was right. Madam would indeed like some food."
He comes in, places a tray, waves away my profuse thanks and leaves.
I should get him something for Christmas. Socks, perhaps? Big red bobbly ones with reindeers on. Therese will know where to get some from Tetreton Market.
I wonder how Neville is. I shall visit him today; free myself from this crazy time. I don't where he is or where he'll be, but I hope he is all right.
After the day's work is done; plans for protecting the prophecy, vision inducing and possible locations of Death Eaters spinning round in my head I go for a walk around the grounds.
Some people find it strange that I like to walk around in the dark, but I don't. Sometimes I will wander without knowledge of my hand in front of my face. (Though walking into a tree you can't see is worse than it sounds).
I suppose people find the dark frightening because it is the unknown, as much as spiky pine trees. I find the unknown a daring prospect I can relish in. By braving the acceptance of ignorance, it takes us further down the road to discovery. To stride in the night garden is to journey further into the dark recesses of the mind. Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness, but to accept the darkness and what lessons we may learn from it is better still. Humans are bad creatures (or can be) and will always be flawed but by accepting our faults and learning from the mistakes of ourselves and others we light more candles still. Life's mistakes are lessons to be learned.
Goodnight, sweet diary.
26th June
A quieter day today. Dumbledore says the first Order meeting is on the 30th, so for now we have other things to do.
I sit at my sewing machine, changing reels, the one textile action I do by hand.
The familiar hum is pleasant, reliable, consistent, and predictable. No uncertainties, only the thin wisp of a needle, the round white handles and soft green buttons. My completed work is proudly displayed on the red chair next to me. Baby vests, socks, jumpers, suits and skirts. A grey woollen beret- displayed near my magnum opus: an unfinished crocheted white shawl on the mannequin. It covered the whole table when I was making it earlier. The tassel bits at the edges were very fiddly, not to mention the unicorns. I think I got the horns wrong: like ice creams on a cone melting in the sun.
I wonder if I'll ever see all her growing up? Will Joanie be there too? Could there even be a time, safe enough where Joanie can look after Adelaide again? With my children and grandchildren? Will those grandchildren even ever exist? So many things say otherwise.
That'll have to be a world without Voldemort.
Joan is silent, polishing a thin gold bangle ready for Adela's christening in November. Joanie was given that in 1980. Adina was given it in 1960. My grandmother [Io Popyngcart] got that from a car boot sale the same week as our queen was coroneted. She restored it; and it was a duty for all us Popyngcart women to preserve and cherish it, our last precious thing we can give to Adela, whose worth cannot be measured or confined.
When I think of the five hundred thousand Galleon inheritances, each, that we forfeited. Liberty; at the price of caste. Of all the gold, fine jewels, goblin made goods (stolen from the makers at barbarous prices) mahogany, properties and trivial gems; and yet that small bangle has survived it all. One piece of heritage; and one remnant of history.
What a family we have.
28th June
The Ministry has refused to accept Harry's testimony. I am getting sick of it all.
30th June 1995
The first meeting of the reinstated Order of the Phoenix
So many old friends I never knew I had! Well, I did know, but it is a surprise to see them all again. Though really, given the circumstances, I should not be. Nymphadora Tonks, Mad Eye Moody (coming out of retirement –again). Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Dedalus, Hestia, Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore.I remember Sturgis. I have to; I set his newspaper on fire once. Emmeline- I mended that shawl of hers when Tonks trod on it.
There are countless people here today, whom I've never even met. But I will meet them and I will know them. These are ordinary, everyday people, and yet they are the least ordinary people you could ever hope to meet. I know of nobody who I would rather fight Voldemort alongside. Because that is our goal here; to defeat Voldemort altogether and forever.
I'm pleased to see everyone- except maybe Dung Fletcher. Misery acquaints man with dodgy bedfellows; but better that Dung is with us than against us. Even though I almost arrested him last year. Hope he doesn't take it personally. He looks nervous now. Well I'm not going to arrest him now am I?
I certainly don't want anyone here to die. But I'll have to accept that someone of us definitely won't be here next year. If Dung popped it, I would mind terribly, but then I'd probably panic about to whom to return the stolen cauldrons to. Why don't I get along with Dung? Partly, he tried to punch me for legally arresting him on the grounds of selling stolen goods, secondly the punch was rubbish. What a shoddy job. I'll keep an eye on him; though knowing Mad Eye I won't have to, but I'll do it anyway. You never know what could happen when you put Mad Eye with Dung.
I'm the shortest here, (though almost as tall as Dung) apart from Kreacher, who has not been pleased to see me at all. "Filth! Treachery! Disgrace on the houses of her fathers! What a shamefaced liar, a conniving shrew, to set foot in the house of my mistress' forebears. O, the shame of her scandals! Out, out!"
Normally most people use hello.
After hours of scouring Ministry plans and discussing sightings of giants, Death Eaters and the like, Molly provided refreshments. I've been in the Dome (department of mysteries, but that's what Mad Eye calls it) many times, mainly to research for the Auror Office. All that knowledge, whispering to a Seer on display- so tantalizing. I've never know a test like it, in the dark with those eerie white globules hovering next to you. I've also written out my last will and testament there- so many times I've practically memorized it.
We've set up rotas for the distribution of guard duty, and I have to say I'm not surprised for Remus, Marauder as he is, to pair himself up with young Tonks. Cue eyeballs to the ceiling!