Wherebooks, Inc.

Exams begin next week, and the library is absolutely teeming with worried expressions, sleep-deprivation (though nothing approaching the magifnicent delirium of Draco and Millicent) and panic attacks. Friday evening I escorted two fifth-year Hufflepuff to Poppy after they began gnawing at their books. I have to start keeping Sugar Quills on hand to slip to the ones who look like they're just about to snap.

No word of Peter, no sign nor hide nor hair nor worm-like tail of rat to be found. I have had a few owls on the subject, none of them bearing any sort of news at all. No news is never good news, in times of war, but unfortunately it leaves me in a rather useless position of not being able to do anything but worry, and wonder. And I have really no interest in doing that all of the time, so I have just instructed Harry to never let his wand out of his sight in the hopes that he will never be caught offguard. We can only wait and see, at this point.

Speaking of Harry, he and Sirius spent last night working on his motorbike. I don't know what they were doing to it, tightening grommets and clanking spanners about, Muggle devices, haven't a clue where Sirius got his hands on them. They seemed to have a good time, and they returned far too late covered in motor oil and laughing about some dirty joke or another. I read my books and finished off some overdue correspondence, because they certainly didn't need me around mucking up their fun. At any rate, I love to see them spend more time together, the two of them. Sirius has become an excellent dogfather.

I took a walk today, in the woodsy area on the other side of the lake. From there you can see for miles, and there's a spot (you may remember it, Harry) that is excellent for watching the Squid perform its afternoon water aerobics. I must have sat under the tree for hours, and it wasn't until the sun began to set that I remembered having found the spot as a boy. A favourite escape, from schoolwork and pranks, and myself. I am happy to have rediscovered it again now, twenty years later. And the boy is still there under the tree, happy to share it with the man. I am glad to have found him. I was wondering where he'd got to.

There is no moon tonight, it has hid its face among a crowd of stars, and the air is warm. Sirius is dozing on the sofa beside me, and I don't want to disturb him so I think I shall read, perhaps have a bath. It is a lovely, quiet night for doing quiet things. I love this time of year, when the days are long, the shadows longer and everything just stretches out as lazy and relaxed as Padfoot here, who is drooling upon my leg. So perhaps the first thing I shall do is scratch him behind the ears.

And then, I think, I will sleep.

I realise that by posting I once again violate the terms of service of these journals by not, at present, being drunk, French, a pompous overstuffed peacock, or a Malfoy. I also regret not making any grand, cryptic statements announcing yet another public divorce. One of those is quite enough for me, thank you.

And considering that it's water under the bridge, and I've recently celebrated my first anniversary, I'm not particularly inclined to follow current trends.

Today I returned to my old rooms here at the castle, which was a rather enjoyable experience in and of itself. Reshelving the books, arranging the bric-a-brac (which includes a slightly disheveled Sirius who has still not recovered from our celebratory alcoholic feast last night; I have installed him upon the sofa), arranging things with Gavin that he look after the shop while I am here during the week, and I will make the trek out to Hogsmeade at the weekend. I think it will work out well.

I admit that it's a bit dodgy getting around in here these days, but there's no shortage of aid from the house-elves. I suspect Sirius will be a particularly big help, once he's slept off the hangover. As it was, I had to help him up the stairs this morning. May have to get him a walking-stick of his own.

And of course, it's lovely to see you all again. I do miss teaching, but then again, I do not. I am enjoying being in the library, handing out books and hexing people who don't bring them back on time (am I joking? Find out!) and keeping Madam Pince company. She is considering a holiday, as it turns out - I believe she's looking into Majorca. She deserves it, the dear lady.

Of course, I will hold down the library in her stead. Victory is mine, ha ha!

It's not all fun and games. I want to know how Pettigrew got out of Azkaban. I want to know how he got into Hogwarts. I want to know what the Ministry plans to do about this. I don't understand why no-one is asking these questions. I don't understand how this could happen.

I'd also like a word with Percy Weasley.

All that aside, it's been a busy week, and it's late and I think I ought to go up and get some sleep. Sirius will likely stir sometime in the night, and he will be hungry and steal my blankets, and I shall be forced to kill him. I'd best save my strength.

In closing, Severus Snape is currently skulking behind a stack of 1001 Spores, Moulds and Fungi, looking for all the world like a malevolent bat.

Oh, I think he's spotted me.

Same to you, mate. Same to you.

How can we let this kind of thing just happen right in front of us?!

We are home.

Harry has gone back to school, as well as Sirius, leaving the house empty and hollow. I'm closing everything up and going back to Hogsmeade to give Gavin instructions on running the shop for a bit, and then I am going back to London to visit with Charlie, and look in on Fred. I don't know what to do. There isn't anything to be done, though I would like to find the people responsible and tear them apart. It would not bring George back, or Charlie.

I have had it with certain people who cannot keep their fat mouths shut during times such as these. People who speak with obvious guilt, though I don't think guilt is the right word for it, because that would imply regret for one's actions and I don't think this particular creature is capable of basic human emotion beyond being an enormous jackass. The sheer lack of tact being displayed is sickening, and I suggest that those sorts of people keep a great distance from other sorts of people, if they would like to maintain the same number of body openings that they were born with.

This weekend an author by the name of Diana Prevaleça is making an appearance at Wherebooks. She writes self-help guides and the like. I hope that I will have more enthusiasm for this later, but for now I simple wish I didn't have to bother. I don't really want to do much of anything, at the moment. Though I wouldn't mind nipping out to Hogwarts to see Sirius, and Harry. I wish I didn't have to let either out of my sight.

Italy was lovely. I have a tan for the first time in my life, and Sirius taught Harry how to surf.

I have to go now.

Good lord, I hope it hasn't always been this bad for him, when this happens. I'm still shaking. Sirius is in with him now, as Padfoot, I think that's the only reason Harry was able to go back to sleep in the end. I've never seen someone so terrified or so ill - he's going to be ravenous in the morning. I'll have to make certain the house-elves make an extra-large breakfast for him.

I'm certainly not going back to sleep any time soon, not after hearing that in the dead of the night, and I've certainly no interest in going back to an empty bed. I can sleep on the train tomorrow. For now I am just going to sit by his bed with all the lights on and watch him sleep, and hope to God the infernal thing doesn't flare up again. I hope I never have to hear him scream like that again.

I wish, Sirius, that we could follow him into his dreams, and protect him there.

It's good to know that even though I am no longer at the school, you will all still entertain me greatly on a regular basis.

The bookshop is coming along. The premises have been dusted and swept, the windows washed and the spiders relocated (Harry, you're not the only one who would rather not cross Aragog again). The first few shipments of books ought to be arriving any day now, but I've already begun shelving the ones from my own collection that I've decided to sell. I'm not separating the magic from the Muggle - I figure that if people go looking for one thing, they might run across something else that interests them that they mightn't have looked for on their own.

I do hope that I'll see some of you by the next Hogsmeade weekend. I'm thinking of having a little event, perhaps some authors to come in and read from their books. Naturally, I won't be able to invite any Muggles, but there's plenty of authors who manage to straddle both worlds (thanks to some very swift public relations on their part). It's a thought!

The leg is improving, though I do have to use my walking-stick wherever I go. Such a pain in the arse. Recently Sirius and I went to dinner and I had a bugger of a time with a flight of stairs. In the end I had to Apparate down them, and that was no picnic. And Dobby's had to rescue me from the floor of the bath a couple of times, bless his little elf heart. So no marathons for Moony, I'm afraid. Not for a very long time.

Hope everyone enjoyed your most amusing Valentine project, and Sirius? Next time, dinner's on me.

Thank God Almighty, I'm free at last.

Shall be in the flat tonight, since I'm not up for long distances quite yet, accompanied by a certain house-elf with a penchant for socks. Thank you, Albus. I will look after Dobby as best I can, while he looks after me.

The short of it: I'll never run any marathons, and no longer can I incorporate interpretive dance into any lectures, but I can stand and walk a bit, I can breathe, and food's staying down, and that's really all anyone can hope for on a daily basis isn't it?

Harry, I might see you at the weekend. Talk to Sirius, I believe he was going to look into it.

And Sirius? Thank you. See you tonight, perhaps? Give you a tour of the place.

Well, with Harry gone back to school it's just myself and Sirius here at St Mungo's. We've been playing Exploding Snap for the last couple of hours, but poor old Padfoot finally passed out at the foot of my bed. At least he had the sense to transform before he did so, because there's nothing warmer than a big furry dog.

I've not been given permission to go home yet, thanks to my bloody leg, which means that after tomorrow - when Sirius goes back to the school to resume teaching - my days here will be lonely indeed. I certainly hope I am allowed to leave at some point, as I don't fancy being left here with only Lockhart for company. Did you know, your old Defence teacher is here? His realm is the Spell-Damage ward, and he seems to be enjoying himself. I have, however, had quite enough of his signing his autograph on everything in the room whenever he calls by, but he's so proud of knowing "joined-up writing" that I haven't the heart to run him off.

There's also the little matter of the waxing moon. I'm much better now and through some measures unknown they've managed to find and give me the Wolfsbane potion since I arrived, and so my transformation will be pleasant enough - at least physically. What I am not looking forward to is being locked up for it, for I know that they have not updated their werewolf facility here since I lived here. When I was about seven years old. It's little more than a cellar that's bewitched so that I cannot get out, with no windows and only one very thick, wooden door. It's quite spare, and dreadful, and if they don't let me out of here before Wednesday then I am in for a dismal sort of night. Bugger.

And now I've tired myself out, so I think I shall take a page from Sirius's book and get some sleep. Goodnight Hogwarts. I miss you all.

Right, my desk is as organised as it's going to get - not that Hagrid can bloody use it, as he's the same size as the desk itself. But everything's where it should be in case he sends anyone in looking for something. Which I doubt, since he will likely ignore everything I've written out for him in favour of educating you all on the eating habits of the chimaera (preference: small animals, birds and first years). I wish you all the best of luck with your lessons, and whoever's left when I return will recieve a load of house points for your bravery.

Harry, don't forget to feed the Menagerie while I'm gone, and I think the Runespoors were asking after you. Or, they wanted their tank cleaned. It's hard to tell, with three heads chattering away at once.

Oh, and would someone be a dear and make certain that my owls are kept active? I don't want them to become lethargic in my absence. Add them to the school Owlery if you must, just keep them busy. Bip is speedy, but Bop doesn't drop things nearly as much.

Right. I'm not very tired, so I think I will have a bath and perhaps read a bit. I suppose I can sleep on my journey, but I'd rather not. I need to be alert.

And here I thought it actually meant something.

Shame on me.

Unless you're Harry Potter or Sirius Black, leave me the hell alone.