Greetings, British Wizarding World. If you are reading this, then I have successfully found the spell that ensures these entries will reach directly into your journals, rather than waiting for you to stumble upon them in the usual way.
Frankly, I’m surprised those of you who used to be known as ‘Death Eaters’ have not already sought out my ramblings before now, the better to threaten me. Perhaps you’ve been hoping I would sink back into my safe life abroad, just as several of you have been hoping that the ‘rumblings’ from certain sectors will subside. Perhaps you thought by ignoring me, you could explain away my statements to any inquisitive students.
I don’t intend to make it that easy for you.
I had planned to hold off, but in light of recent events, I realise that there is no time to lose. It seems there are precious few people left in England who will speak out, and little wonder. The fact of the matter is, these journals just go to show how desperately outspokenness is needed. That’s where I come in.
I’m sure this project has affected all of you in different ways. I have personally welcomed the chance to connect with—or more accurately, monitor—events in the lives of the new generation of Hogwarts students. It is that body of witches and wizards whom I wish most to address with this, my inaugural essay to them.
I've been thinking about how different Hogwarts was when I—when we—all went there. I’m sure I’m not alone in my reminiscences. With so much youthful enthusiasm abounding, it’s hard to imagine that most of the adults don’t feel a similar mixture of wistful nostalgia and somewhat pathetic curiosity. But what we choose to do with what we see, what we read, and what forces its way into our consciousness, is part of what defines who we have been, and who we are.
Most of you students probably have the same worries we did: Homework, dating (for you older lot), maybe even what you'll do once you leave school. More likely your thoughts are full of House Quidditch, what to do with that packet of Filibuster Fireworks you brought from home, or which Prefect is the one most worthy of sealing into a toilet cubicle just before supper. For your sake, I hope your days at Hogwarts remain filled with nothing more than these inconsequential concerns.
But for some of you, you know that there are much worse problems in the world ... and those problems are intruding into what should be an innocent sanctuary. Your school, your fellow students, and your very futures are under attack. There are even those living right alongside you, who should be your classmates, and would have been, had they not been made victims of a prejudiced and bigoted state.
Muggle-borns are not worthless, neither they nor their blood are ‘dirty,’ they are certainly not fit for nothing more than slavery. Some of the best wizards and witches of every generation have been Muggle-born. And don't let the establishment fool you into thinking that anyone born without at least one magical parent must have stolen their magic. I ask you, how can a child steal magic?
For the past ten years, you have been subjected to lies, propaganda, and worse, the systematic destruction of the wizarding way of life. For as long as it takes, I intend to speak the Grim Truth.