Private message to Justin

[alt_antonin]

Figured it out yet?

Пионеры не боятся волков.

Comments

[alt_justin]

Trying to taunt me? I'll get to you when I've time, старик. Until then you can continue to lick your wounds.

Don't pretend that's not what you're doing. Of course you are. Nursing the hurt. Your Russian soul craves legacy, but you've none left. We are all turning away. You are alone. Linus sees the truth about you, now; you've seen to it yourself that little Evelyn's eyes have been opened, as well. Even Diggory called you a monster.

I say, in spite of the fact that Evelyn and Cedric both were also playing you, as I was, you briefly managed to impress them with your charm. But where once they might have defended you--after seeing you as I have seen you--as I have always seen you, what--they are your champions no longer. You see, that's the problem with mentoring others only for what good they might do you. Eventually, you cannot hide your motives. And every one of them jolly well resents you for it. Rightfully so.

You ought to have given up when we were waiting for you. Someone might have been willing to plead clemency, under the circumstances. Or let you leave with his body. Instead you ran and hid. You're still hiding, aren't you? It's certainly not like you to slink away from a fight.

But perhaps you were already feeling less than your best. Too tired to maintain a proper disillusionment, truly? Were your old wounds bothering you? Were you missing all the other comrades who have already slithered away, or died, or abandoned you?

Or was your concentration failing because you knew how beyond the pale your false son's plan was? For all your protestation that power is only there for using, you knew that there are some acts too despicable for any wizard to commit. You knew there was no coming back from creating that army of abominations.

So, was it Divine punishment, losing him? Losing all of your disciples? Losing everything you hold dear? What are your gods trying to tell you, воспитатель?


Kind of you to worry, but you are correct: I'm not a bit afraid of wolves, thank you. I know exactly what they look like sliced open.

If you, on the other hand, are not too frightened or grief-stricken to leave Cottesmore, there's a token of my regard for you and Madame Lestrange in Millingford, on Prospero Lane. Number 3.

-F-F