I managed to teach my classes this week. I was entirely nervous last week, couldn't think about much else... worked all weekend getting things ready. And now they've just gone by like so many other things, like breakfasts and suppers and everything else, because it seems like things are falling apart in our hands. We just sit here, spinning our wheels, researching and analysing and trying our best to stay one step ahead, when it seems we're falling farther and farther behind.

I was the first to find Padma after her housemates did. Her face keeps coming back to me... so young, so completely absent of life. Like a mask. And I know death, I mean, it was my job, in a sense, and this was as much like death as anything I've seen. I tried to revive her. I thought she was gone, from the moment I laid eyes on her. And it turns out she's not gone, or, not really. But her face keeps coming back.

And then Dean.

When Harry and Ron didn't answer -- God, I thought that was it. I thought Ron was dead. When I got up there I fully expected to see the both of them dead. When I didn't it was a shock. What I did see, though, was still more of a shock than... than anything I'd have been prepared for.

Dean Thomas. Bloody nice kid. One of Ron's yearmates for God's sake.

What are we doing, if the Order can't stop this from happening? It feels like we're a handful of pebbles thrown at a rampaging giant. Bouncing off harmlessly while these wonderful kids have their lives cut short.

Remus was there, when we found him. In all the horror it was one thing that steadied me a bit. Thank God for that.

And whatever it is that's in the castle now, waiting for Sirius... I can feel it now. Now that I've seen those kids. Can't sleep. And when I do... dreams, like I've never had. Dreams about what I've seen in Egypt. Dreams about things I'd hoped I had forgotten.

Now I don't think I can ever forget.