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frustrated

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Priscilla wants me to arrest Mrs Parkinson, and I wish that I could, but I need more proof than her people have. "You don't understand what's really going on here," is an obnoxious thing to say, but it does not actually constitute a legally binding admission of guilt. In order to make an arrest, I need compelling evidence or a sworn complaint and charge from Nicodemo Zabini, since Mrs Zabini is in no condition to make an accusation. I don't think I am likely to get that complaint, since Secretary Zabini has already been warned by Minister Fortune to keep his personal life out of the papers for at least a month or two, and the person who removed the compulsions is unable to swear a complaint as well.

This must be awful for Dracaena. I am torn between wondering why she has not confided in me and the more sensible realisation that she probably has not had time, with occasional meanders into wondering if she feels snubbed that my mother sent regrets for us all (without my knowledge, let alone my consent) to Alessio's wedding. Which she shouldn't have done, as Marco was also married that day, and I wanted to go to Alessio's wedding for Yvon's sake. I do thank God that Alessio didn't marry that girl. The world would never forgive me if I thrashed a man with a missing leg; but I might not forgive myself if I didn't.

Amadeo Luna says they haven't sent for him. I suppose that's something. Dracaena would never be cruel enough to subject Yvon to Reverend Moody at a time like this, and Yvon has never been C of E to begin with.

On top of everything else, one of the younger nurses had hysterics when I saw her eating some Muggle sweets and insisted that they were hers, or rather that she only found them, or rather that she didn't mean to do any wrong. I told her to put them back where she found them and write a note of apology, but I doubt that she will. What kind of fool do you have to be to believe that the Aurors will come and investigate missing biscuits? Susannah is getting too big for her bloomers.

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numb

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"I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves."

She is alive. They know this much.

I am afraid to hope for more.

She is alive, and we have not abandoned her.

I should have believed in him. I always want to believe in him. But I'm always wrong about him, just like I never manage to say what I want to say to Dracaena. Thirty years or more, and now I might not ever have the chance.

I can't stand the way Lucian's looking superior. As if I can forget that Lucian has never let him down.