Andromeda Tonks, diary entry, August 5, 1980
Name: Andromeda Tonks
Format: Diary entry
Date: August 5, 1980
Relevance: Concerns Andromeda's feelings about the death of her cousin Regulus, and hints at her motivations for joining the Order.
I'm not there. I should be. It's wrong that I sit here in the comfort of my own home, scribbling in this useless book, while Regulus is being lowered into the ground at St. Dominic's.
I read that obituary. I know the significance of the omitted names, of the "Family only" request, and so I am not there. I would not disrespect Regulus by having a row with Aunt Walburga in the chapel. If he's gone somewhere where he can look down and see those he has left behind, then he will know I grieve--and if the lost ones cannot see us then it will make no difference to him.
The paper says nothing about what happened. I don't know the specifics but I'm not a complete imbecile; this has something to do with the war and with him and Regulus how could you be such a fool It doesn't matter if he was killed by him, or if he fell fighting for him, not to me--all that matters is that I lay this death at the feet of that creature who calls himself Lord.
He was nineteen. We're all fools at nineteen.
I am not going to lose anyone else I love. I will not. Tomorrow I'll write to a few people, see what I can do to stop this madman. I've closeted myself away in this house too long. Cowardly. My excuse was that it might endanger my little girl--it is clear to me now that the greatest danger to her is in letting his ravages continue while there is still breath in my body.
Tonight this house will be filled with candles. Regulus, may there be more light wherever you've gone than there is down here.
Format: Diary entry
Date: August 5, 1980
Relevance: Concerns Andromeda's feelings about the death of her cousin Regulus, and hints at her motivations for joining the Order.
I'm not there. I should be. It's wrong that I sit here in the comfort of my own home, scribbling in this useless book, while Regulus is being lowered into the ground at St. Dominic's.
I read that obituary. I know the significance of the omitted names, of the "Family only" request, and so I am not there. I would not disrespect Regulus by having a row with Aunt Walburga in the chapel. If he's gone somewhere where he can look down and see those he has left behind, then he will know I grieve--and if the lost ones cannot see us then it will make no difference to him.
The paper says nothing about what happened. I don't know the specifics but I'm not a complete imbecile; this has something to do with the war and with him and Regulus how could you be such a fool It doesn't matter if he was killed by him, or if he fell fighting for him, not to me--all that matters is that I lay this death at the feet of that creature who calls himself Lord.
He was nineteen. We're all fools at nineteen.
I am not going to lose anyone else I love. I will not. Tomorrow I'll write to a few people, see what I can do to stop this madman. I've closeted myself away in this house too long. Cowardly. My excuse was that it might endanger my little girl--it is clear to me now that the greatest danger to her is in letting his ravages continue while there is still breath in my body.
Tonight this house will be filled with candles. Regulus, may there be more light wherever you've gone than there is down here.