Said goodbye to Dad yesterday. I think he was still hoping I would change my mind. I've gone to Diagon Alley plenty of times, even returned to Hogsmeade once or twice in the last few years, but this is different and we both know it.
This time I'm not just going for the day, or even the weekend. This time I'm moving back.
He doesn't want me to leave, which I can understand. The last time he watched one of his sons pack up and leave the Muggle world... Dennis died.
I keep explaining that there is no more war, that I'll be just as safe there as I am here. More so because I won't have to deal with the crazy public transit in London. I told him I couldn't remember ever hearing about someone getting hit by the Knight Bus. Don't think it matters to him, but he does understand that this is something I need to do.
No more hiding. I can't just turn my back on what I am just because it gives me bad memories and the occasional nightmare.
At least those don't happen every night anymore, I suppose I should be grateful for that. They've been with me for years and now I can't even be sure if what I remember is what truly happened or if it's just what my mind wants me to see, actions colored by hindsight and tainted by sorrow?
God. Now I'm beginning to sound like my therapist.
I've got enough money saved up that I should be okay for a few months, and with any luck I'll be able to pick up some photography work once I get settled in to a room in Hogsmeade. I'm about to send an owl to Minerva McGonagall at Hogwarts and see she'd be interested in having some photos taken of the school or the staff. If I can get a recommendation from her, then maybe more business will come my way. A guy has to eat, after all.
What do I say if anyone asks why I'm suddenly so keen on moving back? The truth, of course. Or, at least, part of it. I'm tired of hiding my wand and fighting my instincts. Any other reasons are my own and I'll worry about them if - when - the time comes.
Am I really ready to do this?