005. 31 August, 2022. Monday.
PRIVATE ENTRY.
Suffice to say, short of getting hit with a team of Obliviators, you are not going to forget the past two weeks, which is unfortunate. It's not that anyone found out (except for you, and, you suppose, Isabella, whose last name you still don't know); it's that -- no one found out.
You ought to be relieved about this, actually. Considering.
Your conversation with Terry this morning:
Nathan: [standing in kitchen, trying to find something edible, which, as you haven't been home all summer, is a lost cause] Dad.
Terry: [somewhere under pile of scrolls] Mmph.
N: School starts tomorrow.
T: Mmph?
N: I need supplies.
T: Nngh.
N: And we really need to get you groceries before I leave.
T: Nnnngh.
N: I need help, Dad. This isn't going to get done in an afternoon.
T: [emerges from paperwork with a cursed parchment trying to attack his face] AUGHHH GET A MATCH
You are going to have a miserable day tomorrow, you'll need to go to Diagon Alley somewhere between dawn and eight a.m., and but by God, at least you're going to be in Hogwarts, a few hundred miles from you and insanity.
/PRIVATE.
It will be a relief to go to school. Summers have the curious trick of seeming twice as long as any other season.