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It would seem that I neglected to separate the Puffskeins properly. Of course, it is impossible to tell the gender of a Puffskein as they are essentially balls of fur, but I'd hoped I'd managed it.

Judging by the current capacity of their cage, I'm guessing not.

Arthur, Molly - would you like a Puffskein (or two)? I'm afraid they're not much like Staple, but I reckon you could give them a good home.

My cousin Mab owled me a postcard this morning. She's moved to America with her husband and daughter. They're living somewhere near New York. It looks lovely, and she is now teaching at the wizarding school they have there. She sounds happy. I am glad. She's asked me to visit sometime. Perhaps next year.

If anyone wants to know what I don't want for Christmas, it's socks. I think they'd be better suited for the Socks for Malfoy Fund that I saw a sign for in the hall earlier today. Whoever was behind that is very clever, and hopefully very far away from the school by now.

Oh, and Sirius - I've been by your office and rooms four times in the last couple of days and I keep missing you. Perhaps it would be best if you could pop by here at your earliest convenience. I generally don't go anywhere once I'm settled in. The password's the same.

Well, I suppose I will go and have a nice read. It's snowing still, the fire's very warm and I'm fresh out of the bath, and the house-elves have seen fit to bring me a nice bottle of wine from somewhere. A perfect evening to spend with a book.

Yes, sir.

I love Hallowe'en.

Allow me to emphasise: I love Hallowe'en.

The Feast tomorrow promises to be interesting if nothing else. I have heard murmurs of many an interesting costume amongst the students and more than one has been by my office asking for spare fwooper feathers, and any extra fangs I might have lying about. I myself have a rather ingenious costume in mind, if a bit heavy.

Note to self: Stock up on candy. Then, buy some for the students as well.

This will be a much-needed pick-me-up for the school I expect. It's been rather dreary here as of late, very much so. A little unnerving really, I much prefer the school to be a little more rowdy. When the castle's this quiet you start to hear old ghosts in the walls that are usually drowned out by the living. So I'm looking forward to the holiday and the week end.

No, Draco. I don't know who took your socks. And no, it was not me.

Right, I'm going to finish up this quiz for my second-years and then I'm going to see about some tea. Darjeeling I think, I'm feeling rather dangerous tonight.

Yes, that was a joke.

My week consisted of marking twelve thousand (approximately, though likely not far off) essays on the mating habits of the kappa, prying one third-year's hand out of the beak of a malacaw, a Hogsmeade outing with Severus, cleaning up the cage of a very sick jarvey, tea with Sirius, giving a detention to a first-year boy for putting a flobberworm down the back of a girl's robes, and playing chess last night with Harry. And it's only Tuesday.

I don't care how old I get, Hogsmeade will always be enjoyable. Severus even seemed to have a good time, he looked decidedly less sour than usual over dinner and only deducted fifteen points total from hapless students we encountered. I am hoping we can do it again at the weekend - if Severus hasn't anything better to do, of course.

Tea with Sirius went well, better than I expected I admit, though really I don't feel any different now than I did before. We parted in tentative friendship however and I suppose that is a good thing, seeing as how we have to work together and I would rather exist in civility. It's far less taxing than open hostility, and there's by far enough of that going around. I do enjoy Sirius's company anyway, or I will learn to enjoy it again. He was my friend first, after all.

Hm. There's a new book on my desk that's asking me to read it. Far be it from me not to obey the siren call of literature. Hermione might have me flogged.

Edit: Nevermind, the book's been foresaken for a brilliantly frustrating Quidditch match from America on the wireless right now - it's the Chicago Crups against the Florida Fireballs and a moment ago the match became tied because a bloody idiot in the stands interfered with the Quaffle, and the officials didn't say a damned thing about it. Uproar abounds, and I won't sleep until I know how this turns out.

Oh, bugger.

Chaos does not reign at Hogwarts. It pours.

Severus, I've asked Harry to bring the snake up to the Menagerie as soon as possible, as per your request to have a closer look at her. I expect you didn't really see the snake very well before you flung her at Sirius's head, which is his version of events. I'm now most interested in yours.

Have just recieved an owl from my cousin Mab, who had heard of my "personal upheaval," as she called it. She's got a fellow she works with and she was wondering if I would be interested in some sort of arrangement of dinner or drinks with said fellow. Though, it was less a note of inquiry than an order to "get my arse into Hogsmeade at the weekend and meet Kieran at the Three Broomsticks." It would appear that I've no say in the matter. I have been set up.

Well, it should be interesting at the very least. I do love a day out, and going by what Mab says this Kieran chap seems pleasant enough: He is a mathemagician (as my father was), supports Kenmare, likes to cook dirty great breakfasts on Sunday mornings, and he plays the Bodhrán. A true Rennaisance man, if you please. Er.

Anyway, that is what I shall be doing this Saturday in case spots me tromping off toward the village looking as if I've a touch of flu.

I'm off to mark Thestral essays. Always an easy task, as there's only about five or six students per lesson who can see the things. Thank God.

Things learnt today:

- Drink heavily before each and every Gryffindor/Slytherin lesson.
- Don't handle Occamy eggs so close to the full moon.
- Don't argue with Madame Pomfrey when she's bandaging your hands.
- Don't try to type with bandaged hands. Thank God for Dictation spells.

And above all else

- Don't agree to a talk with your ex when your temper is at its usual monthly all-time high and his common sense is at its usual all-time low.

Needless to say, I am not impressed with Sirius right now - not that I really was before. He hasn't learnt a blasted thing from any of this. His idea of "talking" was to strut into my office, slick and confident that he was about to be forgiven and welcomed back with open arms. To his credit he did try to apologise but it was so devoid of sincerity that I started to laugh, because it was the same speech he used to give me back when we were fifteen and he'd done something stupid and was trying to talk me out of docking him House Points for it, right down to the smirk. That smirk is probably one of the very few things that Azkaban didn't manage to take from him or mutate into something else entirely.

When he realised it wasn't going to work he became very loud, and completely asinine. The usual insults, the usual snide remarks and diatribes, the same things he always says when he wants me to feel guilty enough that I'm no longer cross with him. I asked him if he'd tried the same routing on Harry yet, and he claimed that none of this was Harry's bloody business, which is when I finally threw him out of my office.

His parting shot as he stormed out was that he was sorry he couldn't live up to my expectations, and that he doubted that anyone could. And that's fine. He's right, and I'm sorry for that as well - but what I truly regret is that he couldn't even manage to live up to Harry's. That he's in here begging for my forgiveness and not beating down the door to Gryffindor Tower says volumes about how much he just doesn't get it. Or won't. I don't really even know and were it not for how completely hacked off Harry is by his behaviour, I would quickly cease to care.

And speaking of the boy, he offered to come and sit with me during my transformation tomorrow night. He said that he didn't mind, and he thought someone should be there, that it wasn't something he wanted to ignore. As much as that touched me I told him no, because despite Severus's vast improvements in the Wolfsbane Potion as of late, I won't risk it. I don't think Harry's too happy about that - I don't know that he's ever really understood how dangerous it is, when I am not me - but I said I would like it if he came to see me Wednesday morning before classes. So we have a date for tea then, and that is good. The highlight of my whole bloody day, really.

Right, I've got to take my potion and get these lesson plans down to Hagrid for tomorrow and Wednesday. I'll be laying low tomorrow day, so if anyone needs me you should see Severus or Minerva, but please don't send any owls. I really don't like the taste of feathers.

Goodsoddingnight.

On Sunday the halls of Hogwarts were unusually silent, and so when I arrived I took my time making my way to my rooms. I like the way the school feels before the start of term - the walls seem to shiver with anticipation and the corridors feel just a little wider, like they are ready and waiting for the quiet to be replaced by the rustles of pages, robes whispering against the floor, and the voices. James once said when we were boys that he thought the castle was the most eager student of us all, and more and more I think that he was right.

Got myself settled, then went down to the dungeons to see if I could scare up Severus for our scheduled tea. Found him scrutinising his cauldrons and muttering to himself about leaky bottoms (and as I write that sentence, truthful as it is, it really looks rather unfortunate). Tea was enjoyable, and afterward I went with Severus to a short teachers' meeting in the staffroom. Minerva has acquired a new brooch and it is very lovely, and Professor Flitwick seems to have gained a tan on the holiday to Majorca he took with his wife (whom I have not met, though I am given to understand that she is very tall).

Sirius looked well, if a little pale, and did not have much to say. I wanted to speak with him but we were sadly never given the chance. I'll have to catch up to him at another time.

An early night, and then this morning we prepared for the students' arrival. The Great Hall was aired out, the house-elves bustling to evacuate a few last-minute spiders from under the tables, the Sorting Hat brought in and dusted off while it sneezed in protest.

At one point during the evening, just before Hagrid set off to greet the train, I sat in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table at the exact spot I had sat in every day for seven years. It's quite strange to do it as an adult. The benches seem so small now and the Head Table not quite so far away and intimidating as it had once been.

After a bit, I found my fingers tracing a familiar set of letters carved into the table surface, without even having to look to see where they were. I sat there for a very long time before I had to go and take my seat. The children were arriving.

It was brilliant feast as always, and I simply must remember to write down the Sorting Hat's wonderful songs. They seem to become more clever every year. I'll have that one stuck in my head all the week. I've already heard some of the children humming it under their breath in passing. Even Minerva was whistling it when I saw her later in the hall.

September is here at last. Welcome back everyone.

See you tomorrow!

Am coming to you from Harry's new flat, which is somewhere in Edinburgh. We've just finished putting up some security measures and made the place Unplottable, though it seems a bit silly I suppose since school starts in four days. Nevertheless, I'm not taking any chances. We've got a bit more to do before I'll be truly comfortable with him living here, but for now it will do.

There's not a speck of furniture in here either, save for a chair and Harry's bed from Dogear. We shopped around a bit but Harry didn't really see much that he liked, so I think we'll be bringing over a few things from the house instead. The flat is fairly small, but it's nice. Harry's quite proud of it. I'll admit I was a little leery of his living on his own, but by the time he'll be able to move into the place properly he'll be nearly eighteen, so there's really not much that I can do about it. Frankly, I don't blame him for wanting his own space now, and his mother did the same thing when she was seventeen. They're so much alike, sometimes.

After shopping we went to a local pub and had dinner, and a few pints of course, and wound up talking until last call, about important, unimportant and likely highly inappropriate things that you talk about when sloshed. Thanks to Harry's wonderful Sobering Charms, we were both lucid enough to sneak back up to his flat, past his Muggle landlady, without a lecture. I like her because she reminds me of Mrs Weasley, but she has a way of making you feel like a naughty child - particularly if you are skirting forty, sitting on the front steps having a fag, and in desperate need of a haircut. Oops.

All in all, it was a good day.

It's really quite late and if I don't claim some of the bed for myself I am going to wind up sleeping in the bathtub. Though, that's rather tempting - the boy kicks like a can-can dancer.

Oh dear, someone was reading over my shoulder and is now greatly insulted. Also, I apparently have "stabby elbows."

Right, I must go now and defend my honour. Goodnight all.

For future reference, never accept anything to drink from Severus Snape if you can help it. Even something as innocuous as tea. He knows that Dreamless Sleep potions make me groggy the next day, damn it.

He has gone off somewhere for the day, probably to Slug & Jiggers while he is in London to restock his stores for the new term, and so I am taking a moment to pop on here. I've been out already this morning, to the corner shop for cigarettes and more tea, and on the way back I found myself standing outside of a small Muggle church that I'd not noticed before. It's just a ways down the road from here, very small and quite old. I've not been inside of a church since my grandmother's funeral, and before that to Mass every Sunday with her when I was small. She was vaguely churchgoing and I've no idea where she picked up on the habit, though for her I don't think it was habit at all; she took it very seriously. She was a happy woman though, so I suppose she found it helpful.

Anyway, I decided to go inside and I had a sit in the pews and listened to how quiet it was. I didn't have any great epiphanies nor grand revelations, but it was nice. Peaceful, I guess. There's been so little of that recently that I expect you just have find it wherever you can and take advantage of it, whether it's in a church or a dungeon or on the back of a flying motorbike, or in an open field under a full moon, or perhaps on your own where no one can find you.

Harry, if you can read this, I just hope that you're happy and safe wherever you've got to. I hope that you know how sorry I am, for everything. And I hope that you will see fit to come back soon. If not however I understand, and I will hopefully see you at school.

And that I miss you. I hope you know that, too.

Bugger, Severus is back and looks distinctly put out. Am likely doomed. Got to go.