A/N: This story is canon up until the last chapter of The Deathly Hallows. Although this chapter is very Harry Potter centric, and therefore, depressing (because really, when is Harry not depressed?), this story will be mostly light-hearted with a sprinkle of drama. Please hang in there! Lily and James will quickly become the center of the story, but I will also show glimpses of the lives of Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

Oh, and one more thing – please review!

Chapter 1 – A Surprising Discovery

Harry Potter gazed listlessly around the gloomy bedroom on the second floor of Grimmauld Place. Tattered window treatments, thin and holey like week-old Swiss cheese, let small slivers of light pierce the dark chamber, dimly illuminating the once plush furniture scattered around the room. The odd bit of parchment lay forgotten on the grimy rolltop desk in the corner and quills with worn nubs littered the floor directly below. Harry sunk despondently into the spindly chair and slid his fingers across the smooth surface of the desk, barely aware of his own body's movements.

Five years ago today, his godfather vanished behind the Veil. Five years since Harry had dared venture beyond the heavy oak door with the scratched out Sirius Black nameplate. So torn with grief and guilt, Harry had not returned to Grimmauld Place at all since the Department of Mysteries attack. Cowardice? Maybe. But he preferred to think of it as self-preservation. He knew that once he entered that room he would never be the same. But now he'd done it. After five years of avoiding mirrors for fear that they might reveal him for the real coward he was, Harry had swung open the door to the past and entered with only a moment's hesitation.

He had not known what to expect. Perhaps some small part of him had hoped to see Sirius reclining gracefully on his bed reading the Daily Prophet. But all he saw was an unmade bed, stuffy linens, a hastily discarded bathing robe on an upturned chair, and a long-forgotten and nearly petrified apple core resting eerily on the nightstand. A thick layer of dust and grime covered every inch of the room. Harry felt a bubble of hysteric laughter close up his throat. It was almost as if Sirius had just left for a quick kip down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. But Harry knew better. Sirius wasn't raiding the pantry. He was dead. So why was Harry here? It felt wrong to have invaded his godfather's private chamber, but he couldn't help himself. He had to have closure. He had to fill the aching hole in his heart, the one that grew steadily larger with each loss in his life. His parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and now Ginny. How much more could he stand? He knew it was only a matter of time before the hole in his heart devoured his remaining will to survive. The war was not yet over, and yet, he had lost so much. Somedays it seemed easier to just stop fighting.

But he still had Ron and Hermione and the remaining Weasleys, and he would continue to hold on for them. But to do so, he would need this little bit of comfort. He needed to know more about his godfather, his last connection to his parents. Before the war really hit home, Harry remembered Remus teasing Sirius about his habit of journaling every evening before bed. He hoped that the habit was something Sirius had retained from his time at Hogwarts. That he could finally get a little insight into the lives of his parents and their friends. But maybe that was too much to hope for. Knowing Sirius, if such a journal existed, he would have gone to great lengths to hide it. Since his escape from Azkaban, Sirius had become increasingly paranoid, afraid that any information written down could end up in the hands of a Death Eater. A valid delusion, but one that Harry hoped hadn't driven his godfather to destroy his only legacy.

Fingers dancing across the smooth surface, Harry was startled out of his reverie when his finger snagged on a rough splinter near the back of the desk.

"Damn it." He quickly jammed his finger into his mouth, sucking the bead of blood that had accumulated at the tip and soothing the prick with his tongue.

He eyed the offending crack with growing excitement as he realized that a slat of the desk had pulled free of its grooves revealing a dark recess usually hidden by papers and quills. He pulled impatiently at the surrounding slats and lit his wand with a quick lumos. There, in the back left corner was a soft, leather book, its binding bent awkwardly to accommodate the limited space. Harry reached inside and pulled the book free, careful to hold the spine in place. He flipped the cover open and let his eyes wander lovingly across the elegant, familiar script boldly marking the first page.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. It really did exist. He was finally going to satisfy the tearing in his heart. He had a flash of momentary guilt and snapped the cover closed. It was wrong to read his godfather's journal, a complete invasion of privacy. He could hear Hermione's shrill tones now, "That journal is private, Harry. How would you like for someone to read your journal?" But he could hear Ron's derisive snigger just as loudly, "No offense, mate, but it's not like he's alive to object."

And as usual, he found himself agreeing with Ron and turned once again to the first page, ignoring his imagined best friend's, "Hrrumph."

2nd September 1978

A start of another new year, journal. Normally, I would be excited by the prospect of another whole year of Quidditch, girls, pranks, and full moons, but even I have begun to notice the affect the War has had on my classmates, particularly Prongs…

Don't get me wrong – he's still as arrogant, brilliant, and loyal as ever, but he seems to have lost his spark. Take, for example, the beginning of the year feast. We always like to start the year off with some good old-fashioned Snivellus-baiting, but when we had him hanging upside down by his knickers in the corridor last night, he suddenly grabbed my arm, muttered to let him down, and ushered me quickly towards the Great Hall towards our waiting friends.

Moony and Wormtail were already seated at the Gryffindor table looking expectantly towards the Sorting Hat. Across from them, waving cheerily to capture our attention was Lily Evans. She patted the seat beside her before also turning her attention to the Sorting that was about to begin. It always struck me funny that Prongs and Lily had been best friends for longer than I had even known either of them. The whole school recognized that Prongs and I, despite that I was Black, were like brothers, but it was Lily's relationship with Prongs that baffled most of the school.

She was cuttingly honest and had an unerring streak of fairness running through her at the most unfortunate times, like when Prongs and I were in the midst of sabotaging Snivellus' Amortentia potion or charming the suits of armor to distract the Ravenclaw Quidditch team during the finals of the House Cup. Truth be told, I couldn't stand Lily our first two years at Hogwarts. But she slowly started to grow on me, particularly when I discovered that she had been the one to set Cornish Pixies loose in the Great Hall during the Halloween feast. She claimed it was an accident, but really, we all knew better.

But despite everything, Lily stuck to Prongs like a permanent sticking charm. Merlin know why, though. He's incorrigible. (McGonagall taught me that word!) But I have my sneaking suspicions that maybe their platonic friendship isn't as platonic as they make it seem, but whenever I bring my theory up, Prongs laughs loudly in my face and Lily looks embarrassed and escapes to the library as soon as she can. I'd be embarrassed too if someone suspected I fancied Prongs.

Yeah, Prongs is my best mate, along with Moony and Wormtail, but even I can admit that he can be a git at times. Not that I'm a saint either. But his house pride can make him ruthless, and while I love a good prank as much as the next marauder, even I know when too far is too far. And for a Black, that's pretty far. But Prongs takes it to the extreme sometimes. But that was before this summer. This summer, this war, changed a lot of things, especially Prongs.

But that's enough for now. I have double potions tomorrow, and if I'm going to have to put up with Slughorn that early in the morning, I'm going to need all the sleep I can get.

A/N: Don't forget to review!