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This diary is owned by Marcel Conrard T.
If you find it, please return it to the owner or a close acquaintance.
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That was the first thing I read as soon as I opened the diary, and with that I found out the diary owner's name, but that name didn't remind me of any famous wizards.
But when I thought about it, I realized that the owner of the diary didn't put his last name, and that didn't make it any easier in my attempt to find out who the author was.
And with that, I decided to continue reading the diary to see if I found any important information.
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November 9, 1750
Dear Diary
Hello, I am
I would like
...
Hi, whoever it is... this is my first time writing in a diary... actually, this is the first time I have something like a diary...
I don't know where or how to start, but here it goes.
I am Marcel, and I am currently 8 years old. I was born on January 15, 1742, in a village west of the city of Glamborn. Currently I live with my 'parents' and 'brothers', which for me are nothing more than obstacles.
Many may think that I shouldn't say this about my 'family', but you think that because you didn't live with them...
My 'parents', Fetror and Abigaill Wilber, are a decadent sedentary couple, who'd rather sit around all day, stuffing themselves with food and getting drunk, than doing something productive. They use my other 12 'brothers' and me as their servants, 'ask us' to do the heavy work which should be theirs, and keep telling us to bring them more money.
One way for us to earn income for our food is by stealing from unsuspecting people and taking food from street stalls, and even with that, we still don't have enough to feed ourselves properly.
The food always goes to my 'parents' first, and the leftovers are shared between my brothers and me. However, as I'm the youngest, I always end up with almost nothing, and if it weren't for the kind lady who always leaves a basket of fruit inside a tree hollow for me, I would probably have starved to death long ago. ..
And speaking of this lady, I met her when I almost stole from her three years ago. The reason I said 'almost' was because I saw how hungry this lady looked, and the coins she was counting were probably her final savings to try to feed herself.
I may not be a saint. I've robbed and hurt a lot of people, even if I didn't want to. But I never wanted to harm anyone, nor did I like to see others harmed. And when I saw that lady going through bigger difficulties than mine, I felt... bad, destroyed inside.
And when I realized that I was going to try to take this lady's money, and probably make her situation worse, I felt a great disgust... I was disappointed and disgusted with myself.
And after that, I think... in an attempt to ease the burden on my conscience, I decided to give the coins I had already stolen to her.
As soon as I gave those my few coins to the lady, she gave me the brightest smile I'd ever seen. A relieved, happy smile... the smile of someone who has had a weight taken off him. And that smile made my day. I felt that for the first time in my life, I did something worthwhile.
After giving the lady the money, I went back to my 'house'. And because I didn't get any money, I had to suffer a punishment. Even with my back aching and hungry, I still couldn't help but feel a great satisfaction in my heart. The satisfaction of having helped someone else, of being someone else's reason to smile.
From that day forward, whenever I made some money from thefts, I would look for that lady to try to talk to her, and I always remembered never to steal from people who were in the same situation as me or worse. But even after looking for her, I couldn't find her, and that made me sad.
And one day while I was walking down the street hungry, after spending the whole night before without eating anything, I saw the lady I so wanted to see walking between the stalls on the street, with a cloak covering her body and a hood on her head. And without thinking twice, I started following her.
After passing through streets and alleys, and feeling the weakness of my hunger overtake me, I came to a field with green grass and many flowers, and in the center of the field, near a hill, was a large tree. I didn't recognize what kind of tree it was, but I did realize it was beautiful and full of life.
The lady I had been following all this time took a basket out of her robe and placed it in a hole in the tree. And after doing that, she looked in my direction with a gentle smile and walked behind the tree.
Seeing that the lady was walking again I hurriedly ran towards her, but as soon as I reached the tree and looked behind her, the lady was gone. I was dismayed that I couldn't talk to the lady and sat down in the shade of the tree, but then I remembered the basket she had placed on the tree.
When I picked up the basket and opened it, I saw that inside it was a lot of fruits and some bread, and just the juicy appearance of the fruit made my mouth water and made my stomach growl.
I picked up an apple to eat, but right before I took a bite of the apple, an uncertainty gripped me. The uncertainty that this food was for me. And when I was about to return the basket back to the hole in the tree, I saw a paper inside the basket, and on that paper was written a sentence, 'For my benefactor'. And with that I knew the basket was for me.
Happy to have received something so good from someone, without being asked for anything in return, I took the apple again and took a bite, and unlike the tasteless leftovers I normally ate, that apple tasted wonderful and sweet, with a little acidity.
And for the first time in years, maybe even my whole life, I managed to fill my belly. And after hiding the basket in the hole again, I went back to the prison I call home, but completely satisfied.
And from that day on, every week that lady always left me a basket with fruit and bread, and in rare moments meat, in the hole in the tree. And that had become my place to rest in peace, free from my 'family' and any worries.
And today had been one of those days where I would go to my tree, to get the basket as usual. However, in addition to the usual food, inside the basket there was also a diary, the same diary I'm writing in now, my diary.
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As I continued reading, I realized that the first pages of the diary talked about Marcel's everyday life with his 'family', and from the description of his childhood, I could understand why he didn't like them. Hell, I'm surprised he doesn't hate them yet.
And from what I've realized so far, Marcel's 'family' is totally Muggle and he has no idea what magic is, even though he wrote in his diary about some phenomena that happened to him, which I realized were actually accidental magic attacks.
After my little reflection, I continued to read the diary.
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May 7, 1751
Today... something very strange happened... stranger than usual...
Today I was in my backyard... I say backyard, but it's more like a dump full of rubbish and trash... Continuing, I was sitting reading a book I obviously didn't buy when two of my 'brothers' , Eurico and Hurus, decided to torment me, something I got used to.
Eurico and Hurus were the two oldest of all the siblings, with Eurico being 17 and Hurus 15. They were both the best at stealing as they did more aggressive stealing, something they seemed to enjoy. Half their time, they spent tormenting the other younger children in the village, myself included. Because they were the best at robberies, my 'parents' had more appreciation for them and ended up favoring them, letting them do what they wanted.
But what happened today was something completely different...
End.
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(End AN: Ethan is finding out about an ancient wizard. What does he have to do with Ethan? Why did his instincts lead him to this diary? Who will be Marcel?
And now one more question: Which Patronus and Animagus would you like to have? And for those who test at Pottermore, what was the result?
Hope you like the chapter!)