Draco C. Malfoy

Bit of a quiet weekend 'round Slytherin - socially, I mean. Always plenty of homework to be had. I suppose it's owing to that Thursday night party that there were no other parties going on. Cheers for that, Hydra - a good time was had by all. And many happy returns again, Finch-Fletchley.

Say, has anyone had time to write an essay for that YPL contest? You know, the one on the topic of the Lord Protector's Greatest Achievement. I've been so focused on managing quidditch, homework, and Prefect duties that I almost forgot about it entirely. It's a shame, really, because I reckon I'd do a spiff-up job on it if I put quill to parchment. There's so much to say about the Lord Protector's greatness that it's hard to know where to begin, and how to keep it to the length-limit. And then there's the question of just how to put all my thoughts into words... still, I might give it a go if I can make time this week.

Shouldn't be too hard to find a quiet spot, anyway. Some of the NEWT-level students must have found a new place to practise spells and revise, because the group staking out the far end of the common room (like they usually do on Sunday nights) was a bit thinner than usual. Just Samantha and some of the other girls, talking about Charms theory.

Oh, and Teds - you really planning to go 'round with your sleeves hacked off like that? If so, you might want to use a severing charm to get rid of those bits of ragged fabric on the edges. It doesn't really look like a fashion statement so much as the work of a rebel house elf at large in the laundry.

Right then. Who's going to be next to be rid of sleeves?

Sure loves to hear himself talk, that one. All that rot about teachers not noticing and taking action when it came to Finch-Fletchley, when really, if Finch-Fletchley had been taught any sort of decent lessons in dark arts or practical dueling, he would have been able to defend himself properly. But that one can't seem to fathom that when some bastard is coming at you with a deadly hex, your first thought probably isn't going to be about the "cultural structures" or "coercive powers" that made the bastard that way, but how to get him out of your face, and quickly. Sorry, but I'll hex first, think about the rest later.

And that bit about "inventing justification for deeds to the point of absurdity?" I don't know, but it reminded me of when we were five or six, Harry. Remember, they were still restoring Buckingham and parts of it were closed off to everyone, even you. And it was the first time my Father ever Cruciated me.

Granger, you weren't there then, so I'll explain. I'm talking about those semi-state rooms in the lower levels - I'm pretty sure that they're so heavily warded now that no one but Harry's Father can get into them, but back then they still didn't have everything set up, so all we knew was that if we wandered into that area, we'd get into terrible trouble.

So of course, that's exactly what we did. Harry wanted to explore and I was perfectly happy to go along with that sort of thing, back then. We ended up playing green ghost in some kind of trophy room, and I was wearing the blanket and Harry was hiding somewhere. I was bumbling around, blind as anything, and I tripped into a display case. A glass goblet fell over inside and smashed to pieces. It must have set off some kind of alarm spell, because we were trying to put the goblet back together when Yaxley caught us. Bloody nightshade, he scared me down to my toes back then. Still does, if I'm honest.

He marched us both off to the Lord Protector's chambers and both of our Fathers were clearly annoyed at being interrupted. There was a lot of questioning and hard words like "How could you be so disobedient?" Between that and Yaxley's dark expression, it was all terrible enough. But then, when the Lord Protector said that I needed to be punished for both of us, my Father almost seemed...well, I didn't know what to call it then, but I think "shocked" is what I'd call it now. Just that by the expression on his face I didn't expect him to do what he ended up doing. I thought he might pick me up and take me out of there - I even remember being sad, Harry, thinking I might not be able to play with you again for a long time.

But he didn't pick me up and take me out of there. Instead he sat me in the middle of the room and he Cruciated me.

I don't have to tell you how horrible it was. Well, not you at least, Granger. But the pain and the shakes and the tremors, none of it compared to how awful it felt to know that my own Father had just done that to me. And a few nights later I was crying to Mother about just that, and she said that Father had done it because he wanted to spare me what the Lord Protector would do to me if he hadn't.

I didn't believe it for a long time. But I believe it now. And my Father wasn't just inventing justification... there was, in fact, someone else who would have enjoyed it more, would have been more cruel, more vicious, and would have felt less remorse. No remorse, actually.

I don't know. I don't know what to say about "breaking the cycle" (and neither does that one, apparently - never gives a set of instructions, does he?). But it's pointless to sit and ponder change and the future when there are more important things bearing down now. There is no way out of anything when you're a kid.

So, what are you going to do when my Father expects you to cruciate Granger at the second task, Harry? Are you going to be able to do it?

Seems odd that so much of his post is relevant to that very question.

As I flip through the pages of my book for the last day or so, it's interesting to note that the majority of other people's entries (and my own) consist of Private Messages. As much as I use and value the PM system, I have to admit that I do miss the days when people would simply log their schedules, comment on recent events, or just say something utterly daft and laughable. People still do that, mind; just seems as if it all gets overwhelmed by the surplus of PMs.

So, in light of this observation, I am planning a return to more public postings, and I hope that some of you lot reading will do the same.

Getting closer to the end of the term is always an odd time. Everyone can feel the hols building in the air, and that, along with the pleasant weather, makes it really tempting to just faff about and play portkey, or go for a fly around the lake. But then there's all this building pressure too, with more revising, upcoming exams, and the summer YPL stuff.

So, if anyone wants to come to a combined study-and-games/music-after session, let me know and I'll see if I can organise something snitch.

Mother: I hope you received my package and that it found you in good spirits.

Crabbe: Where's my France-Bulgaria quidditch programme? If you've sopped up your juice with it or something then we will have problems, you and I. I hope you're not hanging onto it because you're actually trying to read it, because it's written in French, genius. Goyle was convinced for a while that it was just really strange handwriting.

Harry: Has your Father said yet what you'll be doing this summer? You'll get to stay with us for a while, right?

Valerian just came by the breakfast table. There was a note from Father about the bludger incident at the weekends match.

I guess Harry's Father thinks someone might be trying to kill him again, because he's ordered that Harry not fly at all, even at practice. Not until Uncle Rodolphus finds out who put the hex on the bludger. So that means I'm not allowed to fly either.

I really hope Uncle Rodolphus figures out that bludger soon. And I hope whoever did this is bloody satisifed with themselves.

I didn't really expect to miss France but in the weeks since we've been back it's been a complete bore. Father is off doing important political business and Mother has been with Auntie Bella a lot in case the baby comes, which it hasn't yet, even though it was supposed to have come on Sunday.

Mostly, though I don't know where Harry's been keeping himself. He only responded to one of my Owls while I was in France, and he never seems to write in his book anymore, either. Father says that the Lord just has a lot of plans for Harry right now and to be patient, and then he took me to Buckingham so I could see him, and the whole time I was there I just sat alone in a drawing room with Dennis, Harry never came round and neither did Granger. I thought I heard his voice in one of the corridors, but when I went out to look all I could see was a big group of adults talking about the muggle camps.

The reason it matters is because Harry's birthday is in a few days and I haven't heard yet what we'll be doing to celebrate. Last year we played quidditch with the Magpies, and then later at the Magpies-Falcons match they let Harry release the snitch. It was dead wiz-nift. Maybe we can do something with more people this time, though, like a party at Buckingham. What do you think, Harry? I hope you'll read this. I got your present in France but I've been waiting to give it to you. Seamus came over to the manor yesterday and I showed it to him and he was mad impressed and had never seen anything like it, of course. We had a pretty good time, though, wish you could have been there.

I don't think I like Christmas much anymore. There's too many people, and this year there was even more people than usual. Nanella kept bringing her friend from Brazil along and he was much younger than her and I couldn't understand anything he said. And the Razzer kept trying to do a spell that would make me smile and it made my face stick that way for hours and afterwards my cheeks ached. Ned was being friendly and talking to me about quidditch, but I guess he forgot that whenever I see him in the Great Hall with his chums he'll barely give me a nod. I ate too many chocolate frogs, too, and was sick in the night.

But at least everyone gave me a present. That made me feel better. Except I didn't get my BRO

The best night was Christmas Eve because it was just me and Harry at Buckingham Palace. And the Lord was there too of course but we didn't see him after dinner. Harry showed We played green ghost but I don't know how much I like that game anymore. I might be too old for it. Or maybe it's just not such a brilliant idea to play it in a place that's as big as Buckingham. Mostly, I wish that things and people would just let Harry alone! He's never done a bad thing to anyone and he's a much pleasanter person than me, so, I wish that... they would just let him be.

I have to go now. Father's taking me to the Ministry today.

I'm excited about tomorrow. I'm not certain I'll be able to sleep tonight. I've spent the last several nights working on gifts for both our Lord Protector and Mother because Mother's birthday is nevermind. Anyway, I hope the Lord likes it, because I made it, which most people agree means that I worked hard and that my gift comes from the heart. It also made me grateful for my charmed stay-in-the-line coloured pencils, since I'm not as good as drawing as I should be. Definitely not as good as the wizards that make the Martin Miggs comics. Maybe they're not talented at all and use a spell, though? There are spells that can make you good at lots of things.

I'm doing really well in Charms these past few weeks. Father, do you think that when you are here for the festivities that we could have some private discussion? I would like to talk with you in person about some things, like Abraxan horses and...well, I'm not sure yet, but there will be other things I'll want to talk about, I think.