He who speaks of nightly treasures He who wraps the serpent around my neck He who pours poisonous wine in my chalice He who lets me serve and slip away
...and so i will take shelter In the absence of the light Hiding like a masked miniature in the dark A revenant without relief it seems For the art of becoming a progeny and to be raised in such curse
from Dimmu Borgir's Reptile
okay, okay. so i'm not really bellatrix lestrange. that should have been obvious, right? i mean, it's not really 1999, and hogwarts doesn't really... okay so i better stop there. anyway, this is a journal for the SPLENDID rpg, beyond hogwarts and... the pb is claudia black.