To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day.
Locked to the Order of the Phoenix and Allies.
So, finally, here we are. The eve before battle. Once again, the image of the Caduceus is uppermost in my mind. Dark and Light, Above and Below - or, if one eschews such religious imagery, Here and Beyond - two snakes circling in sinuous counterpoint around a staff, a tree, a wand. A man? Perhaps.
Caduceus - the key to Slytherin. While I cannot speak for Salazar Slytherin, it represents to me balance, not control. To exist perfectly between the extremes and let them encompass us, but resist the very Slytherin temptation to tip the balance to match our whim. The potential is there, though - if you're standing at the point of balance, how easy to press the advantage, to use the hidden knowledge?
We're each of us wound about with Light and Dark, and while we may feel one more acutely than the other, we accept them both, because that is what magic is. The Dark Lord is an exception, having done away with all but the Dark, unbalanced like a broken gyroscope, and a part of me believes that, eventually, He would have fallen through nothing more than His own inevitable degeneration. But we can't wait that long. Albus was worried, even before this newest setback. A ritual...
Some ritual that the Dark Lord has not shared with His loyal. Lupin reports a blood circle enclosing the school entirely. That's significant - what need has he of a circle so great, if not to use the school itself in his work? More than ever, I fear that the Dark Lord wanted Hogwarts for Himself for more than the simple desire to spite Albus and set his heel on the heart of...
Above and Below. I almost saw it - a glimmer of something. But it's gone, and I dare not pursue it.
The school is significant, or perhaps the spring beneath the school. Albus has been so determined to remain and if he is protecting Hogwarts, he is certainly guarding the spring. But I swore I wouldn't speak of the spring.
There's Alchemy here, and I can't fathom it.
Two groups of captives, kept apart, thus far undamaged. Six Muggleborn wizards, six Pureblood Squibs. What is He creating? Balance, or Control?
Private.
Those snakes are tangled around my mind, moving ceaselessly. Two voices; one cries "At last, at last!", the other "Not yet, not yet!" Am I ready for this? Is it even possible to be ready? I think so - whatever is to come, I've either made my peace with it, or I'm simply too numb with fear to feel anything more than the mild thrill of anticipation that would come with starting work on an involved, but not difficult potion.
The potions are prepared. The Polyjuice is brewed. The Archaeus is complete, all but the final ingredient, which I will add when I meet with Potter. The trap is in place. I can do no more, now, except wait.
One more night.