The Dungeons

I’m angry.

I think I have been for weeks now. I just haven’t been letting myself feel it. Or I couldn’t feel it. It seemed wrong somehow. Unsupportive. Something.

But I want to put my fist through a wall this morning. Or someone’s head, though I suppose the latter would be far more problematic than just having to patch up the plaster.

I’m angry with Ron for being such a fucking shit for getting into this fucking mess in the first place, for telling me what he thinks I should do, for not listening to me. I’m angry with myself for not realising there was something wrong with him sooner, for not insisting that he see someone, for thinking that he’d be okay eventually, that things would sort themselves. I’m angry with the Ministry for not stopping him. I’m angry with Potter for…for just being, for dragging Ron into the war, for being the one that Ron can’t let go, for being more than I ever can be. I’m just Viktor Ioannovich Krum. The most I can do is catch a fucking Snitch, not save the world. How can I ever measure up to that? Why should I have to?

Fuck.

And I’m angry with the Weasleys. ( I don't understand them. )

Tomorrow is Orthodox Easter. I’m going home tonight, for the lighting of the candles at church come midnight, for Mama’s roast lamb and Nono’s koznuak, for Papa’s red wine, purchased a year ago and waiting for tomorrow’s dinner, for the laughter and teasing of my sisters, for my mother’s tight hug, for the egg fights my brothers and I will get into, smashing our painted eggs against each other’s until the one left intact is deemed this year’s winner.

And for a few hours, perhaps, I can pretend I’m happy, that I’m not angry. And I can know I’m loved. And not alone.

I miss my family.

I used to be happy.

I should get dressed and go over to Lake Cottage to ask for a new photograph of Lily. I don't know which of the Weasleys might show up to see Ron today. But maybe they'll let me have five minutes to talk to him. Maybe.

I hope.

( Dear Professor Slughorn, )

We hope that you received our transmission of a small payment two weeks ago to cover the cost of the staff's food during the break. We would be interested in making further arrangements with you. Would you care to join us for dinner at Maison des Hérissons sometime this week to discuss the situation? We are acquainted with the chef.

Yours,
Fred and George Weasley

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Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - putting the "bric" back in lubrication charms!

Dear Messrs Weasley,

Indeed, Hogwarts did receive such a modest transmittal, and it was greatly appreciated. The staff as well as the students spending hols at the school were very glad for the supplement to the meals of fish and oats.

I would be pleased to join you at Maison des Hérissons on Monday evening. I am sure we can come to some resolution in the fine ambiance of such a well regarded establishment. I highly recommend the confit of duck.

Yours sincerely,

Horace Slughorn
Deputy Headmaster
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry