I apologize for not blogging for awhile. What can I say? I was busy finishing up essays and finding Voldemort.
Before you think I've gone mad and blurred fiction with reality, I should probably clarify that I found Voldemort's tombstone. Actually, Tom Riddell's tombstone. Close enough.
It wasn't that hard to find. If the trio had me around, they would've found the horcruxes in under an hour.
I have to admit I cheated. I knew exactly where to look. The particular cemetery, Greyfriars, is right behind The Elephant House, the cafe J.K. Rowling wrote part of Harry Potter in. I think it's no coincidence that there just happens to be the Dark Lord's moniker chiseled on a headstone, albeit in a slightly different spelling.
When I found it, I didn't shudder and gasp, "Oh no, it's He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" I cackled like Bellatrix Lestrange. This was a quintessentially Edinburgh moment. Just like you can see the Castle from nearly everywhere in the city, Harry Potter relics are almost as ubiquitous. However, I haven't really been out and about in the city in awhile, unless the city is only encompassed by my flat, the library, the newspaper office, Tesco, and a few select cafes. Those have been my haunts since November started and I literally mean haunts. I would float in looking less rested than Nearly Headless Nick and proceed to get crabbier than the Bloody Baron as I settled in to write two 2,500 word essays and brew up a list of 15 secondary sources for the annotated bibliography due for my dissertation. This is even more boring to list than a History of Magic lecture, so imagine a fortnight of it.
Consequently, I feel like I've been living in Edinburgh, but not really experiencing it. This needed to change, so today I got my shoes a little muddy and found a reason to write such a post so laden with Potterhead references.
It feels nice to be back in Edinburgh.
