Tuesday, February 10, 2015



Once upon a time, there was this beautiful unseen magical world occupied by the similar people doing similar activities - sleep, eat, pray, work, hobbies; the only difference was that these people were granted with magical ability - they were called the wizards. In this wizarding world however, similar to the muggles, they were also prone to getting infections and fell sick, be it due to the black magic or the similar organisms attacking the muggles. These people who fell ill would go to the infirmary to get the relevant potions, hoping they would not succumb.

The infirmaries were all over the world, providing their services twenty-four-seven. There were so many divisions of the infirmary, with wizards within each bureau being very good at what they do, in their own specialised areas. There were of course young wizards who still need coaching in making the right potions; some were very quick at getting them, and some were not. It was like how not everyone can play quidditch, and how the famous Harry Potter was very good at it at once but not the others. The bottom line was that, everyone in the infirmary should strive their best to reduce mortalities and morbidities, and the right schooling and training were imperative to achieve this.

It was never easy and painless to get into the the School of Potions. There were only a few available in the Beauxbatons, so some had to fly to Hogwarts or any other parts of the world to gain the same proficiency of potion. As competitive as it was, only those selected ones got in. It was even more difficult to get back into the School of Advanced Potions after getting some outside experience, to master in specific and precise potions and again, those selected ones must be the clever ones.With the evolving knowledge of magics, each divisions were very focused on their own dexterity, that sometimes, managing wizards or mudbloods was made more difficult than what it used to be, when and where the divisions were not abundant. 

In the School of Potions, the students were told of how crucial to be in a team to heal those ailing ones. Of how everyone should put the ill ones at their best interest. But as time flies, those specialising in black magics were refusing to attend to those wounded by black magic but involved the beating heart, because there were those who were experts in the beating heart - only problem was that they, the latter ones were no experts in black magics. Not only that, when the ailing ones deteriorated later on, those to be blamed were the wizards who first attended to them, as if illnesses were no dynamic conditions. Blaming each other had becoming a trend making synergy and harmony less achievable. Although this was only the attitude of a minute number of wizards, but it was highly infectious because everyone must have had their own sense of belonging.

Oh, how beautiful it was if what was being told in the School of Potions before were being practised. Of how the crux of the matter could be tackled with teamwork. Of not only how important the right schooling and coaching were, but also how crucial the esprit de corps was. Maybe it was an upsetting beautiful wizarding world after all, nothing much to be proud of over the world of muggles.

Monday, January 19, 2015


The advice is so useful, after all these while. It has been more than two years.

I guess time does allow some changes, in terms of how the memories fade bit by bit although not all of them. But time really have not healed anything. At all. When the memories come again, when there are triggers to it, crying is the only thing I am capable of. It hurt. And it still hurts. It hurts the most knowing that trying to get to know someone else leads you to miss that one person who has already left, and reminds you of how hurt you were and how defensive you should be, and how you should never trust anyone, anymore. No matter how much you want to.

 I know this needs to stop. The question is how and when.