Harry turned eighteen without even realizing it. The past few months had been such a whirlwind of grief and change that Harry very rarely even checked what date it was. And so on that Friday morning when Ginny approached him with a delicately wrapped parcel it was with a look of confusion that Harry greeted her. Ginny stared at him. "Happy Birthday," She said.
"Birthday?" Harry repeated groggily. He hadn't long woken up. He had been staying at the Burrow for three months after Mrs Weasley had insisted that it was the best place for him. However Harry felt like quite a burden, and had promised to have his own place by Christmas.
"You're eighteen," Ginny reminded him.
"Oh yeah," Harry said as it dawned on him.
Ginny laughed. "How could you not know its your Birthday?" She asked.
"I've been distracted," Harry explained.
Ginny passed him the parcel with a kiss then dropped down on to the bed to sit beside Harry as he opened it. Harry carefully unraveled the pale blue ribbon and tissue paper to reveal a pair of hand knitted red woolen gloves each with a golden Snitch emblazoned on them. He took them out of the wrappers and stroked them.
"Don't laugh," Ginny warned, "I know it's not much, but I've been keeping mum company since... you know, and she's been showing me how to knit."
Harry looked up at her and smiled. "They're brilliant," He said. He wanted to add how touched he was that she had remembered his Birthday, but Ginny kissed him before he could open his mouth. Harry loved being able to kiss Ginny whenever the mood struck him, it felt good to have his feelings out in the open. So much had changed since the war but this was definitely one of the better aspects.
"You should come downstairs, everyone has presents for you," Ginny announced.
"Lets hope they've made me the matching hat and scarf," Harry teased.
He swung his legs out of bed and was about to follow Ginny out of the room when he heard scratching at the window. Harry turned to see a majestic looking owl clawing at the glass, a flat package attached to its back. Exchanging puzzled looks with Ginny, Harry went over to let the owl in. It flew gracefully around the room before landing on the bed.
Harry removed the package and the owl flew instantly from the room. The package was wrapped in brown paper, there was no writing. Harry slit it open with his wand and two things fell out: a weathered looking letter and what looked like a torn section of somebody's diary. Harry was instantly suspicious; the past had taught him that you shouldn't trust an object even as innocent looking as a diary. Especially a diary. Harry opened up the folded letter and dropped it to the floor immediately, his heart beating fast.
"That's Sirius's writing!" He cried.
"Are you sure?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Positive," Harry replied firmly. He retrieved the letter from the ground to read it.
Dear Harry,
First of all, Happy Birthday! It's not everyday a man turns eighteen, and with a life that has so far been as full and rich as yours I know there can only be greater years to follow. And well done. I'm not sure what I'm saying that for, but I know that I'm right in doing so. I took the liberty of arranging for this package to be sent to you on the day of your eighteenth Birthday when it occurred to me that it's not likely I'll be around to see it. If by some chance I'm wrong, and right now I'm still alive, perhaps even in your company as you read this, then sorry for being an over cautious, cynical fool. If I was right then I'm truly sorry to have left you, and please consider this letter my formal goodbye. The few years I spent getting to know you were some of the happiest of my life. And I'm proud to call you my Godson.
And now on to the package. Enclosed is part of the diary I kept in my youth, the part that follows the summer when I was eighteen. There are so many wonderful tales I wish I had the time to tell you, and so I hope that this journal will console you somehow, and give you a better view of the man I was. Brace yourself, it's quite shocking stuff - after all your father is involved!
Happy Birthday Harry.
Your Godfather, Sirius.
Harry could feel his arms prickling with goose bumps. Wordlessly, he passed Ginny the letter to read. He wasn't sure how to feel. The scars that had been left from Sirius's death were ripping open again, and Harry was drawn back to the summer where he grieved alone at Privet Drive. But also there was a rush of great happiness and affection. Sirius had cared enough to arrange this for him. He had known that the dangerous situation he had found himself in wasn't likely to end well, but he hadn't wanted to leave Harry feeling completely alone.
"Are you going to read it?" Ginny asked Harry when she had finished with the letter.
"Yeah," Harry said, "I'll just read the first page for now. I'll be down in a minute."
Ginny nodded again, placed the letter on the bed, and went downstairs. Harry sat back down with the diary in his hands, which were shaking slightly. He had no idea what to expect. The only thing left to do now was read.