Journalen av Søren Oden [Søren's Journal]

[Søren Oden Karkaroff]

Don't ask me why I decided to start this journal. I figure... this is the best way to get the turmoil out of my head. My father kept a journal all of his life. If my life has turned out as it was originally written... I would have inherited those large leather bound volumes upon his death.

What I wouldn't give to have them now. Maybe they would reveal why he hated me so much. What could a son want more than the approval of his father? If he knew who I was now, would he embrace me? Sometime I have always wondered, something I have always feared. But I will never know now, I guess.

Last night I was digging through my trunk and found the note my mother had left me when she had known she was dying. It was so faded now... help together on its last fibres... the ink had browned, the page crinkled and yellow. Smudges of myfinger prints, ranging from five until now... sixteen, stained the edges. One line... one simple line:

Min kjær sønn, jeg elsker deg og som jeg håper at du aldri glemmer det.

Roughly translated, from my many nights in the library and with the kids of Durmstrang... I have come to the conclusion that this is what it means:

My dear son, I love you and I hope you never forget that.

I feel sick and teary eyed just thinking of my mother's dying effort was a note telling me how she loved me.

++++++++++

I've been feeling horrible lately, about Clare. She is everything I am not, the embodiment of what I was raised to oppose. This feeling in my stomach... I love her. I know that I love her. But how could I, when we've only met once? I am still debating on whether or not to talk to Jon about this.

I am still reeling with the fact that she actually accepted my date proposal. I have been working out religiously since we spoke. I have ordered in several outfits from prestigious catalogs, as well as new shoes. One particular outfit I purchased, the one I believe I shall wear, is a wonderful, yet light button-down. The material is form fitting, and will show off my chest and stomach well. From what I understand, human females feel weak at the sight of well-muscled men. Which I believe I am. The mating rituals of humans are strange. I also bought a new black sport coat to go with it... I hope she finds me attractive. I've been thumbing through some of the magazines that the other boys leave around the dorm, and apparently, woman find confidence and cleanliness sexy.

I will also have to make sure that my potion is well stocked. If I start slipping in the middle of out meeting... I would surely just die.

I hope Clare feels for me the same way I do her. The thought of her eyes eases me to sleep at night.

[Søren Oden Karkaroff]

Last night was full moon. I had to sneak out and go to the Forbidden Forest to do my Change.

Such a peculiar spectacle, The Change. Like water in a stream that flows into a waterfall... I am one, and then the other. The part I savour the most... when my spine lengthens into my tail. That surge of euphoria is almost too much for me to take. It's like... an orgasm without the sex. It's like a cool, liquid fire just... bursting from my tailbone.

The joy of it all, is that my Wolfsbane allows me to maintain my human rationality. I am able to look at a situation with human eyes and mind, but with the instincts and body of a wolf. I enjoy this transformation. It's such a pleasant change from the blood lust and mindlessness of my true form.

Though... as nice as this form is... sometimes I need that blood lust and mindlessness. Keeps me sane, so to speak.

++++++++++

I saw Clare today. I was wandering between classes, and saw her in the hall. My heart honestly stopped beating and relocated to my throat. I am glad that she didn't see me, because if she had spoke... I couldn't have responded. I must get over the nerves I feel in her presence. Our Saturday lunch date is just a few days away... she would never see me again if all I did was sit and stare at her. She would laugh me right out of Hogsmeade.

I don't know what to do. I feel like a silly little boy who's fallen in love for the first time. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel... protective of her, I feel like my life is meaningless and would end if she somehow didn't exist. I have a renewed purpose.

I called and spoke to one of the gentler members of my pack, Andrås, and he introduced to me the concept of "designation." In lycanthrope culture... we have one life mate. When we meet this person, werewolf or not, they become the essence of our being. Everything we are, were and will be, is theirs. They can mold us, and we will be whatever they need in that particular point in time. Whether it be brother, friend, lover... whatever they need. That person is who were supposed to be with, mate with, spend the rest of our lives with. It's like the human concept of "soul mates," and "love at first sight." For us it is real, and it is permanent. Though, it is not widely accepted by others of lycanthrope nature.

Speaking with Andrås... he believes that Clare is that for me. Of course... he had several negative things to say about her blood heritage, and the fact that she isn't one of us... but unlike Fenrir... Andrås is very understanding and told me that if Clare did end up being my designation, he would accept her as one of our family.

It's very good to have him on my side. I know that the others won't be so forgiving. Hence why I never confer with them. Andrås would never tell, either. Unless of course... he felt that it was a jeopardization of both mine and the pack's safety. Which it isn't. If it ever came down to it, if there was a breach in pack security... I would just turn her.

Which will be expected of me, if word of our relationship ever got back to Fenrir's ears. I could lie. But then again... lying to Fenrir Greyback just isn't done.

I love her, but I'm fearful. I wonder if I'm making a mistake.

[Søren Oden Karkaroff]

So, I went and got my hair cut and dyed today. The stylist took about an inch off the top (my hair no longer hangs in my eyes when it's not styled - this will take some getting used to), and my once white blonde locks are now a medium brown. The stylist said the hue would "warm my face," and make me look less "ghostlike." Of course, she said this to me as she was eying me up. The bloody woman kept "dropping" her scissors in my lap... a mere ploy of sexual harassment, if there ever was one. I would have said something if it hadn't amused me so much.

Of course, the dye won't last. It will disappear once I make my next change. Unless of course, Clare responds well to it. Then I shall keep it. I took some Polaroids on my old camera... the colour quality is going. I still feel self-conscious over my hair, hence why my hood's up... but I think it turned out nice. I've decided to make photos a part of this journal... how can one document without photographic evidence?

++++++++++

I'm so nervous about Saturday. Diana be with me, I think I might pass out.

[Søren Oden Karkaroff]

My emotions are all of the place lately. I don't know how to deal with them. Lately I've been waking up with this overwhelming feeling of being crushed. There is some weight that has been sitting on my sternum, and I don't know where it came from or how to deal with it. Something is going to happen in my life. I can feel it.

++++++++++

Christmas at Livinia's. What was I thinking.

[Søren Oden Karkaroff]

Sometimes I wonder why I bother, why I continue on.

This life... this... playing human, is not for me. I know that.

I am not human.

As it stands... I'm not sure that I ever was.

Fenrir was right... it's wearing on me now and I feel it.

I'm surprised they haven't uprooted me yet and pointed me out as a fraud.

This entire situation is alien to me and I don't know how to deal.

They're all happy, together, in their little groups and here I am... alone as always. I can't be apart of them. I shouldn't be. They look at me and see right through; I am nothing to them.

I have debated upon whether or not to just... drop the act and run away. To go back to the pack, take up my proper place at Fenrir's side, have a mate and breed. As I should.

The wolf inside me tells me to give in. The wold inside me tells me to devour and tear the life right out of them.

But... she holds me here. Clare... my reason to breathe. The very breath in my lungs means nothing without her.

But I am selfish. It doesn't make sense for her to love me. It doesn't make sense for me to stay. It is better for her without me here. We can never be together really... she is human, and she is fickle. She can change her mind, fall out of love and move on... I can never do that. I will always desire her. I will always wish to covet her.

I will continue the charade for now.

My heart is breaking, and I can't stop it. I am held together by loose bandages. Loving her, it tears out my foundation. It counters everything that I've been taught... everything that I've done. She's of muggle blood. She's not my kind.

Fenrir... he would tear the very flesh from my body if he knew.