Warded and ciphered as strongly as Theo can manage, in his leatherbound journal:

Today I finally get to go to the Academy. I would be more excited, were I less tired. I expected not to get much sleep due to excitement. Unfortunately, the September issue of The Tatler came out yesterday. As a result, not only did Frances and I have to pack for school, we also had to help Mother and Heloise pack to move to where Father works, even though he doesn't yet have married quarters. All in all, I doubt that I slept for more than an hour last night.

I strongly suspect that things will be very uncomfortable at school. After all, nearly everyone I know is either a Pendry (or closely related to the Pendrys), a Leffoy, or in service to Lady Leffoy. Given that Mother is a Pendry and our family is in service to Lady Leffoy, I'm rather stuck in the middle, at least until Father declares our allegiance one way or the other. Until then, I expect that speaking to anyone I know will cause me trouble. Perhaps it's for the best that I'm so tired that I'm likely to doze off on the train. Every moment I spend asleep on the train is a moment I won't run the risk of seeming to take sides. (Although, given what I've heard about Uncle Marcus Pendry's statements in The Tatler, I find myself inclined to take Lady Leffoy's part.)

To think that, until yesterday, I was quite looking forward to today.

P.S.: Paradoxically, the lightning-rain that destroyed our house did have one benefit: it made everyone's packing much simpler, since all we had with us at the Mablins' house was what we could carry from our house in the short time we had before Father required us to remain at the church. It's admittedly faint comfort, but I'll take whatever comfort I can find right now.

Warded and ciphered as strongly as Theo can manage, in his leatherbound journal:

It seems that Cousin Alastor's friend Dylan Vieira is leaving today. Thus ends my run of sleeping well.

Perhaps Dylan can leave me one or two extra sleeping draughts, so that my recent habit of falling asleep in odd places whilst reading won't be too blatantly linked with his presence here. Having seen him and Alastor at Leffoy Manor, I think I understand why Dylan wanted me to sleep soundly during his visit here. If my sleeping patterns seem in lockstep with Dylan's presence, though, it would be a clue so obvious that anyone at all could solve the mystery.

Warded and ciphered as strongly as Theo can manage, in his leatherbound journal:

Thoughts of recent days:

Someday, there may well be a day when everything is exactly as it seems. It's safe to assume, however, that any given day will not be that day.

I like it when Dylan Vieira visits Cousin Alastor. It's one of the few times when I get any sleep.

Speaking of Alastor and Dylan, Frances seems to be more suspicious of them than usual.

The ceremony on Sunday was quite impressive, although Frances seemed rather bored and Heloise ate too much at the post-ceremony reception. I would have liked to have had a chance to speak with Florian, but I least I was able to chat with Fiammetta and her older brother Hadrian. Hadrian told me more about the classes and professors, including some details which I shall not commit to writing (but which do, alas, match up with some of Father's comments which I am certain I was not meant to hear).

There was another boy there who seemed quite out of place. When I've seen mundane children in Londinium, they tend to behave as if they were raised in a different country. The boy at Leffoy Manor, though, reminded me more of that book by Burroughs (but without the physique).

Having now met Magister Kyteler, I can now understand Father's loyalty to him.

Warded and ciphered as strongly as Theo can manage, in his leatherbound journal:

Father's been quite preoccupied since his luncheon yesterday. I'm beginning to feel that something very important is about to happen, and that the seeds were planted yesterday.

Oh, as for my punishment for my participation in certain pranks, and the resulting Guano Affair, Father proved himself fiendishly clever. My anticipation of what he might do was, in fact, the punishment. Father asked me if I had been thinking about my misbehaviour all week. When I answered yes, he smiled and said that that was his goal. Father added that he knows well the temptation of acting before thinking, so he wanted to give me a gentle reminder of the potential costs of such behaviour.

I now understand Damocles' relief when he stepped out from under Dionysius' sword.

So now to bed.

Moderately warded, in a substitution cipher, in his leatherbound journal:

We went to Cousin William's birthday tea yesterday. I enjoyed myself, but I think I liked Bill better before he caught the "polo disease." Perhaps he'll become his old self again once he's at school, and away from his worried mother. He was quite pleased with the book I picked out as a birthday gift. Kat received a letter during the festivities; it seemed to cheer her up.

Still no punishment for my recent misdeeds. I am beginning to sympathise with the protagonist of "The Tell-Tale Heart," by that Yank writer Poe.

Moderately warded, in a substitution cipher, in his leatherbound journal:

I knew I would rather have written the five hundred words that Alastor and Jennie had to write on the morality of practical jokes than wait for Father's decision.

Last night, Father listened to Mother's account of what had happened. He then asked me to think about what I thought would be an appropriate punishment. Father added that he would ask me for my answer tomorrow evening, and that he would make a decision by next Sunday evening. Until then, I am as free as if I had never tracked bat guano into the house.

The anticipation is excruciating.

Moderately warded, in a substitution cipher, in his leatherbound journal:

Things have been rather interesting since Cousin Alastor’s friend Dylan Vieira came to visit last night.

( We few, we happy few, we band of cousins... )

Lightly warded, in a substitution cipher, in his leatherbound journal:

Some random thoughts on shopping at Goblins' Market for my school things:

I sincerely hope that our school uniforms are sewn or enchanted to allow for growth, because I truly disliked having every conceivable dimension of my body measured. Going through that every year would be maddening.

While I like my new wand (it seems to work for me much better than the old house-wand ever did), I'd feel much more comfortable with a wand made just for me. Barring that, I still want to see if I can find a suitable wand from that trunk in the Mablins' attic.

Speaking of wands, while I was testing wands I saw Jennie chatting with a girl, about our age, outside the shop. She looked pretty, and I would imagine that she was nice; Jennie has never been one to endure the company of those who aren't worth enduring, and I saw them both smiling as they talked.

Sadly, I wasn't able to find any sweets that seemed likely to induce Heloise to part with the puzzle box I gave her. I suppose I'll just have to find some other way to secure my belongings.

Lightly warded, but in plaintext, in his new leatherbound journal:

( I'm finally starting to feel normal again, more or less. )

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, in his new leatherbound journal:

For years, I've dreamed of turning eleven, the age at which I would become eligible to attend the Royal Academy. I must admit, though, that my eleventh birthday was not at all what I had expected. After all, I always thought I would have to be at least a fifth-year student before I could be responsible for our house's destruction. Though both Father and Mother have told me that I had nothing to do with our house being blown up, I can't help but feel at least partly to blame. After all, Father himself specifically told me not to bring anything magical to the church. He must have feared that things linked to me might serve to attract the lightning. It would appear that they did.

The Mablins have done their best to make us feel welcome, and to give me the best birthday possible under the circumstances. Mrs Mablin baked me a birthday cake, and Cousin Jennie gave me this journal. Now I don't have to keep track of loose pieces of paper as I write down my thoughts, feelings and experiences. Cousin Alastor gave me some chocolate; unsurprisingly, Heloise tried to get it from me. I only ate a couple of pieces, though. I hope to trade Heloise the rest of the chocolate for the puzzle box I gave her. That way, we'll both be happy.

Right now, I'm sharing Alastor's room. Last night, we tried sleeping in the same bed. Unfortunately, every time he moved, it woke me up. It didn't help that, at one point, he tried to hug me as if I was a stuffed animal. I scarcely got any rest last night. It might be best if I just slept on the floor, with an extra comforter as a mattress. I think we'll both rest better that way. In fact, I told him as much this morning (although I didn't mention the time he tried to hug me in his sleep).

Speaking of rest, I think it's time for me to take a nap, now that Alastor's up and about.

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, on unbound parchment:

( I'm very worried. )

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, on unbound parchment:

My school things letter arrived today! HURRAH!

As far back as I can remember, I knew I would be attending the Academy. Somehow, though, holding a letter that lists the books and things I am expected to bring with me to school brings the idea into reality in a way that nothing, other than actually stepping into the Great Hall for the first time, could.

I would not have thought it possible, but Frances seems to have become even more smug, now that she's received her Prefect's badge, even though she claims to have known for weeks that she would be named a St Hilda's Prefect. Holding this letter in my hands, though, I can understand, if not excuse, her smugness and pride. If the truth be told, I am also proud of her, though I am sincerely glad to have been accepted into Caerleon.

Concerning the trip for Frances and me to pick up our school things, Mother thinks that it would be best to wait a few days. Things will be hectic around here for the next couple of days, between my birthday and something the Leffoys will be doing (Mother seemed deliberately vague about this last). Besides, Mother says that things get very crowded in Goblins' Market for the first two or three days after school letters are sent.

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, on unbound parchment:

Mother said something today that was funny at first, but sad once I thought about it. Trying to get Heloise to eat her porridge, Mother said that there are mundane children in the village who would love to have such a lovely porridge breakfast. That was funny, because I remember her saying similar things to me when I was little (when I was Heloise's age, Mother talked about "the starving children in the Ukraine," as if I would know at that age where, or even what, the Ukraine was).

After I thought about it a bit, though, Mother's admonishment to Heloise made me sad. Hungry children half a world away are one thing. After all, it is hardly surprising that the Red Russians failed to grow enough to feed the peoples of Soviet Russia. But hungry children just down the lane are quite a different matter. Even though the Jerries are unlikely ever to invade, what with them being bogged down in Soviet Russia and the ever-growing presence of the Yanks here, their cowardly U-boat warfare may still manage to starve the mundanes out of the war. If the mundanes are no longer able to resist the Nahsties, due to starvation, how long can our folk hold out against von Thorwald?

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, on unbound parchment:

( Had Cousins William, Kat and Jennie over to visit Saturday and Sunday. )

Unwarded, but written in a substitution cipher, on unbound parchment:

( Mother suggested that, as I will be starting my studies at the Academy soon, I should start keeping a journal... )