Legends of a Saint

So it has begun.

Father always said it would; it was just a matter of timing.  The fanatics have crossed that line of cowardice threats just off stage, and have committed themselves to the play.  Act I, Scene II.

They attacked the Hogwarts Express today.  This morning, on the leave to return from holiday.  Kings Cross was overridden by He Who Shall Not Be Named's minons.  For so long I'd heard about this nasty piece of work and his followers, and never did I believe they would actually take a stand.  But this morning they proved me wrong, and attacked the train before it had left the station.  Curses flying everywhere; students and parents injured... killed.  I did my best to help those I could.  A fourth-year housemate directed me toward a carriage of minor injuries, and as I'd finished there, the train lurched, attempting to flee the fighting.  But it had already reached the train, the students, and I was hard pressed to do little more than seal superficial wounds and give some comfort to those in fear.

Before we could leave, I managed to find Remus Lupin at Lily Evans' request, and took over for him in the baggage car, tending younger students while he went in search of his friend Peter Pettigrew.  I'm sorry to write that the young Gryffindor had perished from a blast to the car, glass severing major arteries.  There is no telling, however, if a curse had hastened his death, as I did not have time to doddle.

We lost several...

Pettigrew, James Potter, David Thornberry, Howel Spectre, Jen Wilkins, Joseph Windham... several parents, as well.

I shall close here.  Sleep would be good, as I have patients to see in the morning.  Dumbledore assured us our safety - Aurors everywhere - but I fear rest will be a long time in coming.  I can only say I am relieved many of my closest friends were spared.  Dugan is already sleeping - I've given him a Dreamless Sleep potion per Madam Pomfrey's permission.  Marli is safe, too, I have heard.  Friends in one piece and breathing.  Something to be thankful for, indeed.

After a fashion, I've found myself welcoming in the New Year with nary a comforting word of promise.

Mum has been called away for difficult birth, and would not allow me to attend.  She knows my intentions, yet forbids me just the same.  Dad has accompanied her, as it is a long journey.  They dare not Apparate, though I've not been informed as to why.

Alas, I find myself alone this time capsule of all evenings.   Even the house-elves have been dismissed from duties to find their own celebratory outlets.  Only together would we have attended the dinner and ball originally planned. Yet that is not to be.

I find my solace in the heavens, chardonnay a pleasing companion.

Gazing upon the tendrils of light, again I ask... Where are you, my own midnight kiss...?