A diary entry…

Not quite my diary entry…But a diary entry, none-the-less.
I started writing it on the way home from the movies last night…Finished it up tonight…Can’t exactly put it in it’s proper place, so I thought I would put it here…

Gutted…That is the only word one can use to describe this…feeling. Is it even really a feeling? It’s more like the complete absence of feeling.

The world is tumbling down around me and I can do nothing to stop it. It’s out of my hands.

I thought knowing why would at least help some…It helps nothing. It changes nothing. Not in the long run, the final outcome is still the same.

My grandfather was laid to rest on the school grounds. The end of an era. The end of everything. The world I knew.

Even those around me are not acting themselves. I’m sure it won’t last long. Time stops for no one, only briefly pauses before forcing us to rush head first into whatever else is to come.

What is to come? Everyone in the Wizarding World is asking that question. The one force all relied on, whether admittedly or not, to keep the darkness at bay, is gone. The one light, and what are we left with? Potter!

I want to blame him for doing nothing. For not saving my grandfather, but…Snape said it was already too late. Too late before term even started. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t either of them tell me?

Naamah is…pacing? Hardly seems the word, slithering would be more appropriate, outside my door, back and forth on the landing. She’s barely hissed at Peter when he’s stopped by to check on me.

There have been quite a few ‘visitors’, come to check on Dumbledore’s granddaughter. Not all of them welcome, most of them not, for one reason or another. I will be forgotten once more, I’m sure, once the ‘newness’ has worn off. At least by the ‘general’ population. It’s the others…I wish they would all just hurry up and destroy themselves, it’s what they do…Destroy themselves…And destroy all those things dear to those around them.

I feel like a prisoner here, despite my warden being more generous that her usual self. I want to go to the cottage. I want to be with my sister, with my friends. I want to be able to fall apart and not have to worry who or what is watching, listening.

Someone’s apparated into the entrance hall. One of them no doubt. They don’t knock at the door, they just come in, like they belong. The tattoo on my arm will never be what their’s is. It is a symbol of defiance, not acceptance. I will not let my grandfather die in vain.

~Raven