The Dungeons

My Darling Dexter,

Now, you mustn't worry, my dear, when I tell you that somehow - through no fault of my own, I assure you - I seem to be rather younger than I was last night. Seven years old, if I were to make a guess. 43 inches tall, my dear, and I have the most interesting gap where my front teeth are supposed to be.

And as for our dear son, well, Diefer is positively looming over me as I write this and he has a beard.

And Dexter? His beard is ginger!

I haven't the slightest notion how long this turn of events is going to last (my Inner Eye seems to have reverted to a rather childlike state and it's refusing to speak to me). All I can say is thank Circe this took place on a non-teaching day because how can one teach when one WOULD RATHER PLAY!

Or to see a film. I have suddenly become possessed by the most unexpected desire to see The Lorax

Do you like Muggle films? Do I like Muggle films?

I'll find out soon! Our son has promised to take me to London...to the cinema!

Love and kisses,

Your Sybill

My dearest darling,

I find myself at quite a loss to explain the sudden change in my dance physique. Where once I had lean, fit muscle, honed by years at the barre, now I seem to be a skinny stripling of a mere decade. Even my well-worn and loved toe shoes no longer fit.

Our son, you say, is a young man by this chicanery?

Do you suppose he would mind taking me to the local skating rink? I have the most pressing urge to do the Hokey Pokey, and dearest, that may truly be what it's all about.

Your Oddly Changed But Coping Spouse,

Dexter.

On my sixteenth birthday (the first one), Francis Meriwether yelled at me that I was an old man and always would be. Fair and unfair, most unfair. But a little bit fair.

What a marvelous, horrible gift those wonderful boys have given me. And what the hell to do with what fraction of it remains.

Could I talk to Severus as a peer, for once in my life. Or Scorpius for that matter, and calm him down about last night, though I hardly feel it's my duty to waste this day pointing out his double standard and trying to evoke some sympathy for Lily's point of view, which after all isn't so different from mine.

Really I want sex. I mean who wouldn't. But I'm not Severus. Where would I go? Back to some Muggle bar, where I wouldn't be picking on poor Lily? To Florence Resnikov's Home for Wayward Wizards, to find out where her former charges have gone off to?

Really, I want love. I mean, who wouldn't.

My Vi,

I thought this might be appropriate today.

Always your Marik

---------------------
When Tonks touches the rose, When I'm Sixty-Four begins to play.

Mummy,

((I think I'm twelve. Again.))

Just so we're clear, oh brother dearest, you're still an enormous cock for strong-arming me out of the club last night.

P.S. Off shopping with Katya, do make certain you keep an eye on Papa. Honestly, he's almost as sulky as you are as a teenager.

DRACO! HARRY! DRACO! DRACOOO!!! The Dark Lord is back! We're under attack! The spells passed my wards! I have WRINKLES, I tell you, and my hip aches, and my chin sags, AND I CAN'T EVEN READ THE PAPER, it's all blurry. HELP!!!

It's funny, isn't it?

*a long silence*

God. Sometimes you are so...so....( Malfoy. )

What a strange day today has been!

So many new customers--mostly children with a surprising amount of money to spend.

Not that we're complaining, of course!

Whatever strange curse is ricocheting around the Wizarding World at the moment seems to think we're exactly the right age just as we are.

But we already knew we were perfect in every way.

Also, it's our birthday! We're 34, this year, and just as handsome as ever.

And we've been running the shop for half our lives! ( It hardly feels that long... )

Issy said you came down to eat. I was sure you weren't going to, everyone said you didn't want to see anyone, or I'd have been there. At dinner. You could have said. I don't know how I was expected to guess.

Ah. Hello Severus.

Poppy,


I'm sorry to trouble you at this hour, and I know I should just go make an appointment with the healer's at St. Mungo's, but it's a bit embarrassing, and I thought I'd just ask you about this first.

I seem to be having . . . that time of month. Again.

It's been more years than I care to recall since I felt this: cramping, bloating, and I feel like killing someone or something. Inky popped in to ask me a question about the laundry today, and I almost hexed her.

How did I ever tolerate this for so many years? At any rate, I wanted your advice: should I go see a healer about this? It's a perfectly natural process, of course. But one I had thought I'd left far, far behind me. Is this even something to trouble St. Mungo's with?

I never really appreciated being older nearly enough, I now realize. There has to be a potion to fix this. Why did I even put up with this for decades, when I was younger?


your aggravated,

Minerva