February Third, Two-Thousand Four
8:26 PM

Nathaniel is doing well at his new placement. I must remember to send that social worker a basket of fruit as a thank you. I'll have to look up her name. I'm dreadful with remembering anyone I don't see on a week to week basis. Perhaps that is because I do not seek out such friendships. The upkeep is sometimes far too much work.

I must remember to owl Snape. Perhaps I should do that now, as well as the basket, else I'll forget. I don't know where my brain wanders if I'm not specifically focusing on something. Hopefully it is warm wherever it travels. It's frightfully cold in this house. Even fleece and warming charms only stave off the chill for so long.

I had a contractor out to check the security of the steel downstairs. I may need someone to come out and reinforce structure. It has been years since I had anyone down there, however. I am unsure I'll find someone I trust. I've been loathe to invite someone into my home who is not a patient, but were I to get out, even with the Wolfsbane... the consequences are far too dire. My hermitism will just have to subside for a tiny length of time. Perhaps someone who can reverse engineer a ward for my purposes. I do not fear telling them the reasons for my needs, though I do fear that they may not react generously. The fear terror propaganda that woman has fed to the general public baffles me still to this day. How so much hate and loathing can be contained in such a petite pink package is a wonder.

January First, Two-Thousand Four
10:38 PM

Today was quiet. Were it spring, the day would have been spent in the garden, but with the frost covering the ground, most of my blooms have disappeared. They'll return come the warm weather. They always do.

I fear Nathaniel Mirabella is being abused at home. He has a severe dislike for his foster father, which is not necessarily something that has changed since his transfer to the Fulham's home. However, I have noticed deep and dark bruises covering his upper arms when he does not realize his sleeves have exposed his skin, as well as the coppery tang of recently shed blood. He smells of fear when he talks of home. I have contacted his social worker at the Ministry and have made plans to meet with the woman on Monday.

I do not know what to expect. I am sincerely hoping that I am wrong in my assumptions. Perhaps he is a normal ten year old boy and comes home from playing covered in marks. I don't pretend to know personally what it is that little boys get up to, but he is not a normal little boy and has not been so for the last two years.

Severus Snape's extortion continues to be bothersome, but I am at a loss as to what else to do. If not for his potions, I would wake the morning after with scratches, bruises, and a myriad of other ailments due to the inability of the potion to calm the beast within. I will begin to feel the pull of the moon in a few days, the impending change tugging at my muscles and my emotions. I will need to hire someone to check on the steel downstairs, make sure there are no weak points. The last few months, without the exorbitantly priced potion I now have, have been hard on both my enclosure and my body.

I should go see a healer, but I have had trouble in the past finding someone who will deal with one in my position. I am feeling more fatigue these days, though this could be a result of my age and not as much due to my monthly shifting.

No resolutions have been made this year, as past experience has proved that such things are trivial and never come to pass. Still, were I to indulge, I can only think of traveling outside of my comfort zone and perhaps initiating conversation with someone I do not know. I am always instructing my patients to do things that may not be comfortable for them, yet I am unable to do so myself. I am hypocrite in the very worse sense of the word.