The Keepers' Evil

Diary Two: I travelled to learn- but I long to help

Song- Soldier: Fleurie

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Ashes of stardust were replaced with the gravelled smoke of gunpowder, and my eyes were no longer remedied by the childish want for starlight to savour me, but rather shellshocked by the ignition of a thousand fires of hatred and the captivity in which my mind was forever glued to the want to heal.

Hogwarts had been forgotten, months passed, memories left behind in the before, yet the dangerous curiosity and fear-filled lack of clarity had followed me into the after. My magic was the constant that hadn't ever left me through the distrust; it had formed the world around me, it had glistened where it had been dark, it had freed a shackled inquisitiveness within me. My magic was unique where the ordinary was praised in a world where the unique was dangerous and the ordinary was painful.

I had desired to research where the boundaries lay, not only what they were, but specifically where. Magic was formulated and riddled by those who had seen it first, it was not to be tainted and it was certainly not to be protested or counteracted, but my magic was mine to seek. It was as though we were the longest of lost friends, a foundation of a relationship built on a misunderstanding that wasn't our own, but belonging to four people who once considered themselves a mentor of mine, holding a position of trust.

My magic had left traces along my fingertips, left an imprint of possibility within my mind. It was a stamp of everything that could be, everything that I hadn't been allowed to expand on. It could create, it had shown me that it could repair and mend, yet had dimmed at the lost hope of four professors. It had been an injustice to ignore what it craved to do, and my travels intended to apologise.

Hogwarts had lent me the explanation of what my magic was and what it could stretch to, and my father's pain had sparked the need to give him back the person within him that my brother had taken. It had ailed my soul to find somewhere so hurt and harmed, but war had been the only place where the pain forever lingered. I had always felt within me that the magic was capable of something greater than the pillars I was taught to mend, yet my enquiries had fallen into the incapable, reduced to nothingness to preserve an ability that hadn't been explored.

I had pondered and asked to no avail, I had researched in books otherwise forbidden to the hands of students, I had begged Rackham to simply show me why not, all to be reprimanded with the same warning for two years; A magic this powerful can do great harm in the wrong hands. The world had opened its arms to me once the Hogwarts crest had been taken from my robes, and it had whispered tiny compromises of hurt and heal into my mind, begging me to act to find what my adolescent research hadn't been able to.

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The world told me that it was distraught, the peace was converted into pain and my footsteps were eschewed by the fading pulses of those whose lives were hanging in the balance between the desire to live and the temptation of dying. I had always found it to be a cruel attempt at stringing together a heavenly light, the white walls and floors of hospitals; it only seemed to want to highlight where the blood stained and where the black fingers of death draped.

My shoes seemed to clatter loudly, and I could only hope that those whose necks held death's hands could find a peace in the click of my heels in a way that told their subconscious what mine did- peace was coming to heal. The war had been long, France's flag torn and simply resembling a flickered piece of fabric, the nation of strength now shattered. I had only witnessed what felt like minutes of a strenuous battle for peace, yet I could only hope that my inner tussle was soon to be over with the discoveries of what this unfortunate display of pain could show me.