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worried

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I don't even know where to begin to list all the things around here that are fucked up beyond all recognition right now. Malfoy is upset about a dozen different things, but he can't say a word to Alessio, because Nicodemo Zabini is lying unconscious in the secure ward upstairs and Alessio's inconsolable.

Priscilla told Lady Malfoy he's going to be fine, but I'm not sure even she believes that. They may have to bring Lady Malfoy here to get him back from wherever he's gone. I know why she did it. She did it because she doesn't want Lady Malfoy to swoop in here like an avenging angel while she's off at the War Bureau trying to get this whole mess classified. We can't even prove Parkinson did this. This is something humans can't do, and the only non-humans Parkinson has working for her can't possibly have been the ones to do it, because Maddie says only queens can speak geasa. At least he's unconscious now.

Meanwhile, I have to try and explain to Isaac Diggory, a very intelligent, forward-thinking twentieth-century wizard, that not only does the solution to this problem he's facing quite likely depend upon the betrothal of two eleven-year-old children whose friendship is still based in Quidditch skills and Chocolate Frog cards, that's likely just the beginning.

And Király Ilóna's girlfriend wants to consult on the case.

I can't wait to hear what Laurens thinks about this. Except that I can. Forever.

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morose

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I keep starting notes to Julie, crumpling them up, and tossing them into the dustbin. Doubtless if Priscilla were here she’d give me a stern lecture about the importance of conserving paper and parchment, but she isn’t, thank God. She went home after Alessio’s brother told her that Luna was safe in Spain, and then Laurens went home right afterward. It’s quiet here, without him. Susie has also gone home. I made her go home. We’re not going to let her turn into her mother. I suppose my wife has a right to her feelings about the death of my sister, but Jo is was still my sister, not hers. It is also very odd of her to take the girls and leave the house to go and stay with Melantha, given that we live in Uncle Ozzer’s building and she’s moving away from the rest of the people who are mourning Jo just because I won’t come home and do it with her the way she wants me to. I know I’m having a strange reaction, but I think, sometimes, for a minute, that maybe Jo is at peace, and God knows, if there is a God, that she wasn’t at peace for a long time before she died. I’ve seen death come as a blessing before. It can’t have been easy for Jo to go the way she did, especially since she nearly burnt to death once before. But it’s over now, whatever it was that was under her skin for the last fifteen years.

At least Julie’s stopped blaming Alessio. She hasn’t met his golden girl yet, but somebody actually told her what happened to him. We did the procedure on that poor kid and Priscilla found everything she expected to find. The girl might live forever, but there won’t be any more of her. I hope they don’t rush into marriage. It’s one thing for her to blame herself for Alessio’s leg and that wouldn’t bother me, either. But it’s possible that in a hundred years or so, Alessio will really have begun to deteriorate…and she won’t look much different than she does right now.