Of greater worship than any other of their blood I shall be.

When I saw it, I knew knights or damnsels should all cried aloud in outrage. Most of my peers have been prisoners for seven years so that is no government. As a sign of warning I shall write new edict. But I shall account what happened in our search for the grail. Today, as a sign of gratitude for Memorial Day, I asketh all my counselors: "Tell me therefore o, noble knights thy name and what we may award our friends in this day of special recognition? Then one told to take treasures of the castle as a reward for their grievances and buy them a big mansion wherein he would find the most beautiful of damnsels and when bedtime hath come his host would bringest him to a chamber over a gate and there makest him unarmed and go to bed and fall in a good sleep for weeks. (Everyone madeth ohs! and ahs !) But I replied: Turn ye on me, ye filthy, egotistic cowards and leave me sole fighting with this HP? Consulteth they briefly among themselves and determineth it a very good idea it was to leave the premises.
---Fair knights , excuse thy queen, for we have chased HP and the grail thus far, and should have overcome them on the efforts of thee noblest of knights. Do as ye will for ye may live or die but if ye live ye shall be holden onto me". They were far onto a morrow by now.

Thus, I commanded my counsellors to swear to do as follows upon their swords : ""After many days of pursuit and by chance they come to return to their wild country, maketh they will find an old and decrepit gentlewoman in their home wherein she gavest them and his horse a good cheer""... So they did.

The after noon thereafter came when one of the deserters riding in great haste knocking vehemently at my gates rose and by moonlight I saw three other knights that came riding fiercely after a fourth lashing at him to ride faster than the previous one had done. Sayeth them: "Well, we knew no damsel save thou shouldst ever overcome HP alone and many a long day have we sighed for thee for the HP feared really no other name among all queens but thine."

This memorial day shalt be one for history manuscripts with confidence reasured and in good batallions indeed!!!

Laying grovelling on the grass shalt not bringest forth the cure.

Sirs, what adventure hath brought ye here? Thou cheer in my misfortune?For if it is not known yet and I am far from the best damnsel in all the world but as pure as any old snow and with a cross amidst my chest, I'll confess then and there is a strange and painful discomfort in around my neck. The shield that once protected my bosom is lost forever and damned. For what my seemingly loyal peers sayeth me cheering : "this shield should hang from no knights/damnsels chest unless he/she be the worthiest in the world". I warn ye therefore, knights ; consider well before ye darest touch me again... !!! The discomfort hast arisen worst and I bore the damned shield grievously to "Bagdemagus Brake" my stop shop for all things itchy-witchy. Bagdemagus is an old sot that sometimes talks with truth and attends this shop. He sayeth me "Because this shield enchanted is with body fluids of a grievously-sick-wounded-nigh-to-death knight, its wearer shalt cometh to injury or possibly to death". Now, blessed be Janos and Cybeles and fortune for this revelation.
The bogus I delivered out in the yester-day, and the itch of this morning hast a not a sea in common but a puddle. As the veil uncovereth the mystery of my wound, reflecteth I. How canst I override the powers of one infected shield? Which elixir shalt restorest me and once dipped my neck in its drops shalt return me to the figure of cheer again? I hath to cover and hide my injury in that veil for the foul smoke from my wounds leaped up to the loathiest figure that ever I hath seen in the likeness of men; a gay-blood boy. I remembereth the goblet that many a knight were looking: a grail which turneth many loathiest figures in fair maidens, a hideous noise in baroque music with castanets, a cursed-willed body into a course on Will's body... I shalt seek sayeth grail too.
Now that amidst seven hundred knights in one close company hath I been madeth the point of cheer, I shalt rush to pillage. I'll receive their submission and countenance.

Like a mad-raged-stirred lion this marsh of goop sprangeth from me.

Today, on the outer side of the portcullis hall I wrung my hands and wept bitterly for what hath been no little grief in many years. This morning, per chance, I perceived a piece of papyrus in my chambers that read: “This dung-sunken alabaster papyrus smellest pretty evil, Yuck!” and concludeth I someone must have scripted it and left it in my garment chest, or else someone awardeth it to me. Unconsciously, I smellest it. It containeth an enchantment that revolveth my stomach and madeth me deliver the contents of the courses I had the night before: (Red tea madeth with a blood-teabag, and warm sticky bat legs). Me, weeping full sore also remembered I hath drank along too much spring water and fresh fruit to enhance the flavour. Damn those two enhancers!!! Was this another concoction of Kila the sorceress? May it be my landlord which owed me three months of credit on my rent and wanted to evict me, or may it be the revenge of a mad gay-blood boy in his teens? I certainly will seth a watch on my chambers so that no visitor can seth neer a packet of scripted papyrus, a bomb, a lizard, a bird with severed head, a foot, two feet, a dump, a stranded animal from a shelter, etc, etc. etc. All those things are prohibited by all means and will be removed indefinitely from existence, (especially the two feet).
Note on my door from here forth scripted on a papyrus ready to send:
Queen Morgana may actually try to kidnap you and throw you on an urologist office (forth age genital alchemian and healer) by force for a prosthetic evaluation. She has heard it is specially painful and serves as a lobotomy in the weak minded. The catheter journeys inside the urethra piercing producing painful sensations on contact and creating excrutiating feelings of anguish. May the horn that you carry rot and smell, smell, smell for the rest of thy life, onto thy glory be, God Janos , and Cybeles, Ahem.

Revelations of the purpose of this journal

This gay-blood boy sayeth me one day " By God's grace wilt thou promise me to never ever repeat that I am gay'? when I went onto his shack on the nude. Begineth this story from the beginning I shalt account. That day I did not have any garments on and disappeared from my chambers to another point in the kingdom hundreds of miles away from where I lived. This was done by enchantment on the holydays people liketh to commemorate some holly week. The maliciously damned witch-sorceress Kila may responsible be for the deed. (I shall sayeth the story of our sinister past some other time). Firstly, I am in without garments walking around some neighborhood and I remarketh strange perspirations of knights around me with dissorbited and surprised eyes. One of them was strangely unrestful and perspirateth him heavily by different areas of his limbs (note: I peek swiftly but I knew something was afoot and I hast more pressing things in my minds anyway). How to vengeance this affront madeth by Kila? How to be light as a feather and quick as cat? How could I rescue my fabulous collection of fabelis from her claws? I suddenly see his shack and enter the door. To my surprise I perceive a journal in an afeminate chamber and I looked round (it is the same journal in which I now write). I write in this journal a message for someone to aid me, (to Sir Urience) when unexpectedly the boy enters his shack and I get caught. I notice his face did not the resemble perspirated as the knight from moments ago, nor his eyes art unorbited with surprise but evenly half closed and wore a weird smile in the face. (He showed me all his teeth). He cometh forth to subject me to physical punishment and I sayeth him what I cannot tell: for I knew not how I came into this shack if it were not by enchantment I also told him I 'll say the world thou keep a blond wig and a red maiden's garment in thy closet, a phallus prosthesis on top of thy chest smelling like thy rubbish and manuscripts of a communal activity between men under thine pillows. By God's grace wilt thou promise me to never ever repeat that I am gay.. sayeth he . To which I replied: "I am the most discrete of maidens and most innocent of damsels (I was concealing my true identity, ha,ha,ha). "Thou be of good heart" , sayeth he, "and tomorrow at the dawn of day ye shall know more." Thou I bet I shall know more. I learned the name of his alter ego: Danielle, to which his parents have named also "Irma" but that he cleverly changed because of the copyrights and lawsuits.
- Damsel, thou must understand that thou art my prisoner and I know thee well, thou art Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black yet now I am resolved to have thee to serve me. To which I sayeth : Truly fair knight, in all my life never so ill. Although if I do as ye advise, thou wilt help me out of this distress and thou shalt go to the great Sir Urience to send for me and rescue me.?" "For there is also a great danger bound upon us: the damned sorceress Kila is outside this shack at this hour and with her great deadly weapon, none thou shalt live forth nor from this place shalt escape.
--Fair maiden... sayeth he then, tell me first of Sir Urience's condition., hast he found bride or love? Arrangeth for him to ride ten miles forth unto an abbey of white monks and there abide until I bringeth my good fortune in before thou shalt art delivered from this place . I shall do him all, the service I am able on that day, wilt him answer thee on that errand?"
Later, he confessed round my Sir Tom's love-life and his passions for him. HIS obssesion (Sir Irma Danielle's) for courting all the knights at his court. HIS hate toward his own mother and his initiations in this great art of hating maidens and interpret them at his own will. My mouth and face were not the same afterwards, the memory of that conversation haunts me still. I swiftly stoleth the journal and escapeth running from the shack. Later on, collapsed and standeth again to materialize luckily onto my chambers. Forgot partially what happened until recently when sight of him I had again and this shall be accounted for in another hour. Swore that fateful journal shalt public ride ass edict. On thy holy name God Janos, Ahem, Ahem.

The phelot therefore rises till thou dost grant mercy.

I seth forth into my duties of recruiting knights and damsels for the tasks ahead against the most false, foul, cowardly a creature. But where art champions knights or damsels to take this cause hands on and wager a battle on him and bringeth him into this castle or to lie for evermore in durance? If none shall maketh the deed, by my faith I will prove my might! I shall look upon the lost and rare-seen hawk of the hill to hunt the gay-blood boy. The hawk of the hill nameth also a "phelot" art a mystical bird that seths himself to be seen every 175 years for it is sacred and never communes with any other creature. He art a powerful predator against butterflies and other winged infestations of the skies e.g. gay-blood boys. First thing today I hath seth forth to the black forest of Bavaria to hunt one for this task. I hast my new net, new red binoculars which match perfectly with my gold and also new red robes, new human leather boots, magical rose-code ring and of course my fabulous pink feathered fabelo all for the occasion. I hast a good manuscript on birdwatching nameth itself "If looking is not a sin, atractive birds where art thou?" with the description of the phelot and the intonation of some of his chirps that sayeth in reality warnings to the seeker. This shall I say to the phelot in his native tong: "--Sir Phelot, thy hour hast come that thou must join me to declare war on the gay blood boy, because he is consuming your resources, not enjoying your company, does not like thee and wants your job (I addeth some color to start the convincing gossip,...namely this : I ikââe iii, pio, iiili arsapililí, .... or else thou sufferest the ... ikéâ iii pio pi iii arsa guatekéèéè...)"
No pain, no gaaaaain. Oh..., I think I just saw one flying ......... .....around that fig tree... Any false movement shall give out my real intentions so let's keep reaaaaaaaaaly quiiiiiiiet..... Oh dear, what a luck ! He is looking at me right now as if saying what a marvelous day this is! Oh... oh -oh , NOOOOOO! I shall keep recruiting damsels and knights for the open war for the next 175 years at least. Damn. ¯

Banquet at Pentecost

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With all the table round the moment of a great feast of Pentecost arriveth today and I noticed I shall solely sit in that tabule with my fabulously rose feathered fabelo and bushy long dark black hair (in both my heads).

This is breakfast or as we say in old times sun-breaking feast.

I materialized from my chambers to the Palace in Avalon island where I live most of the time. I seeketh to read good tales and somehow time flies when I am at it. But I remember I promised my good Lady Victoria (my mother) to assist and entertain our guests at our meal.


Later on, I would need to make some exercise after this great a banquet.
So, I begineth my day in the great hall of the palace with breakfeast. I have thought in a particular queen to destroy by ripping his intestines. My jumping cords are already numerous, but I will try to make more to loose some weight.


The meat or pancetta is greasy and high in something called cholesterol which my all-timeless intelligence suggesteth me is the greatest murderer of the future. I wonder if I can pass this idea through human resources for it may work against the gay blood.

O how wonderful! Sir Ector hast prepareth us a beautiful song for entertainment. Here I transcribe it for all of my readers:

♪♪♪ "La, la, la ... to the ivory horn

hanging upon the sycamore tree

any knight may blow thereon

but nothing shall happen to thee". ♪♪♪

The round table was all seth and the invitatees hast arrived.
The castle rangeth its echoes, the pavilions and parlors trembleth to the music of the magical horn and Sir Ector with renewed strength and confidence in his chords breaketh tympanis and cochleae, and seth anxiety roundabout.

Only a good servant like Sir Ector shalt himself come about and fright to death seven men that morning. None of the invitees stayeth to finish their feast.
This was the unusual part of the entertainment Sir Ector hast prepareth for us too.

I dareth you, HP to come about. The magical horn of Sir Ector will keep the fruit of you ready for german compote.

Later on as I hast prepareth to enjoy my hot chocolat something again was not seth right. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! The hot chocolat burneth my insides!! The burn causeth a burning desire in riping some intestines! Hath I known and suffereth it, flushed my face all scarlet.

The cook hast boiled the water too high and serveth it in what she thought was a small thermal goblet like the ones used for old centuries on long journeys in the cold.

I was unrested and like boiling water for making chocolate I seth forthwith to slay the cook but unfortunately the cook dead already in the kitchen I found. His insolent thermal dutch ovens hath exploded with our last sweet courses scattered roundeth the walls.

I seth myself to observe the kitchen and later the goblet. Pursueth I both in an attempt to recreate the scene. After some reflection I concludeth there has been a secret lying for some time in our palace! We hath the long lost goblet of fire at our midst beneath our very noses! Alas! Eureka! Oi! and Olé!

With an effort my burneth lips managed to say: "Domine, quo vadis--? This sayeth I to the other employees of the kitchen which seemeth to want to escape the luck of the cook. Later I added: "The dutch ovens exploded in an attempt to make corn surprise and a mexican flan in the same pressured pan. Do not copy our cook for he was slow and stupid."

Therehence my mother Lady Victoria seth to make a good homage to the cook in recognition for all his past endeavors. As for me, I shall have Lady Victoria seth on both her knees before this year be past to have by faith my recognition of him. I shall not lose my heads. I departed heads on. Forthwith the phrase "like water for chocolat" was coined in our books: it means: "most villainous desire to rip intestines and slay a cook".

I am Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black the great enchantress...

My name is Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black the great enchantress; half hidden sister- cousin- by- marriage to the Lestranges; sender of the false sword and scabbard, damsel in distress and wife of Sir Urience. I greeteth you in rich draperies of silk and gold, biddeth you be strong of heart for tomorrow you shall do battle with a strange knight: a gay blood. I desireth you as you do love him to fight this battle to the uttermost and without mercy, as you have promised me you would when I should require it of you. I will make a rich queen forever of any damsel that shall bring me that knight's head with whom you are to fight, at the sounds of the trumpets for he hast me all too long done me too much damage. The gay blood, or shall I say, the boy who lived, hast dareth to come to my presence and sayeth he that he a gay-blood is. Ah! in my face, as I stumbleth through the news, the spasm of that memory hast pervadeth and twisteth my beautiful face. He hast a wimpy wimpy wimpy wiener ( or so hast I heard for the boy with my huge lover Sir Tom hath dareth to commune too). Oh, no. Oh no. The boy that lived or also known as Harry Potter is the new enemy of Queen Morgana Anakina. I will grip his intestines and use them as a jumping cord. Harry (or forthwith shall I say either "Harriet the fag" or "Irma Danielle" for reasons I shalt account later in the hour) shall never hast a chance against my witchy craft, my uppermost intelligence and cunning! I shall sayeth the world of his gayness, of his wretched-queen-alter ego "Irma Danielle" and his anorexic way of living on the high-coûture catwalk.


Of what hast happened to Harry "the fag"/"Irma Danielle" and how I cometh to meet him:


I hast in numerous ocassions heard of this boy . Some years ago, he was known to everybody as the transitional son to one Petunia and her plump boar faced husband. He hast a cousin named Dudley who resembleth a fat whale but that I fail to want to harm with my bad, mean, witchy eyes simply because he hated Harry "the gay" too. Those times were also difficult for the masters of dark marks were in the loose and my protegé and pupil Lord Voldemort, my only one, had disappeared unexpectedly. Hast he hidden himself under the closet too? I must have madeth that question to some of my peers and prepareth myself for the shamefullest of answers but no one dareth speaketh the truth. It is a grievous custom I know but there is one knight to defeat. A proper way of disguising those who would attempt the deed be it through the transfiguration into beautiful knights. At one point me thinketh your sword is not good or not long enough; do not distress. I shall maketh or lendeth you a bigger. Thou shall brake his helmet and unnail his hauberk, smoteth him in full sore with the fated sword till yor breaths fail and the ground tinted with red blood shall be. By magic, I shall make Sir Ector (my beloved father) play his bewitched great horn-trumpet that only causes pain and anxiety to those who hear it. Then, seeing that in great heaviness of spirit and pensiveness he shall remain, I shall send out for Lady Victoria (my beloved mother) who'll aggrieve him with incessant quarrel. Everywhere the vengeance of Queen Morgana Anakina Beatrix Black shall be known.
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Of how I encountered him and my etymologic reflections on the name HP and of his evilness: The name HP are the prime letters for the phrase "hijodeputa" which in some arcaic-not-in-use-language-from-far-away-into-oblivion meaneth "fruit of a very promiscuous damisel" or "fruit of the womb that rotted". The word "fruit" hast been used in several metaphorical descriptions as "gay" in earlier ages. In some tale I readeth recently, the fruit Eve gaveth to Adan may hast referred to their son Abel. This alludes to the delicate constitution of the boy Abel that liked the ethereal life in the country or the real love-life of Eve but alludeth too the vulnerable state of a fruit or fellow with such passions. I know not, damned be thee, old literature for thou art bound for some speculation but surely the name of HP may hath been a preamble for the behaviour of the boy in his forth age.
My apt pupil is Voldemort. I am above him for I taught him what he knows. I dareth not say he is dead; he liveth in a perpetual dream state not recognizing his real queen and truest mentor from all the other fake mentors ( teachers at Hogwarts). My pupil lost a confrontation with the baby H.P. resulting in his partial death and passing of this world.