The self is not something ready-made, but something in continuous formation through choice of action.
~ John Dewey
Sunday, June 17th ~ Morning



Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. There was no denying that and while it was a good thing for the most part, Harry found himself almost at an impasse and he didn't quite understand why. Daphne's part in Croaker's disappearance was effectively buried which was what he'd wanted. Almost the last of Voldemort's inner circle of Death Eaters were dead. Lucius Malfoy remained alive and free, but he was too - slippery to be caught out as Bellatrix had and until another Dark Lord came along to take Riddle's place, Harry doubted he'd step too far out of line.

Is that it? Harry asked himself sitting up straight at his desk and looking at the journal entry he'd started and not finished.

Is it because I don't get to play the "Dark Lord" any longer? If it is, that's just - sick - isn't it?