Notes From The Nameless

by CinnaKnowsBest

When fifteen year old Harry Potter receives a letter from a nameless admirer who goes only by the initial M, someone who promises to be honest with him and tell him everything, he thinks that he may have hit some sort of jackpot. But when he writes back and is answered by the mysterious Admins, he begins to rely on them more then Ron and Hermione. This story will be Drarry slash.

1. The Letter

Fifteen year old Harry lay on his bed on his birthday, ripping open the presents he had gotten from Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys. He had been furious to begin with, but it had gotten worse as he read the letters he had been sent. They were giving him absolutely no information on what was happening outside, and he did not like being kept in the dark. He felt an angry kind of heat rising in his face as he read the last few words of the card Hermione had sent him: I expect we'll be seeing you soon.

What the hell did that mean? When was soon? He threw the card down beside his bed, silently fuming. Why the hell wasn't anybody telling him anything? He turned out the lights, not bothering to undress. He wasn't expecting or hoping for anything more, so the sudden tapping of an owl's beak on his window shocked him. He turned his lights back on and opened the window. When he moved back, he was surprised to see a crow carrying a letter accompanied by three pure white owls carrying parcels. The crow and the owls dropped what they were carrying and wheeled around to exit through the window, leaving Harry in shocked silence. He tore the letter open first. He noted the perfect, neat handwriting in the letter. He didn't recognize it at all.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I have recently taken to hiding around your home to see if you really are the spoiled brat every Slytherin thinks you are, and can only say that I am shocked by what I've found. Now, you may think that I am not exactly the most pleasant person you have ever met, and I will not kid you otherwise, but I too know the feeling of when home is not a happy place. I will not give you my name, as I am pureblood and from a family of ex-Death Eaters who would not quite be pleased to find me contacting you wishing well. I can only hope that you have received this on the day I intended: your birthday. Enclosed in parcel one, you will find a diary that can be used to communicate with me and others who know what is happening in our world, and those who have no qualms about telling you things that Dumbledore would prefer you not know. You write in it, and the message will appear in the diary I keep with me at all times. I will write back as soon as I know the answer to your question. In addition, you can contact us when you need help, or merely out of need to communicate with someone who understands.

Harry blinked, and then opened the small parcel marked "One". A simple leather-bound diary fell out. Its front cover was dominated by the Gryffindor lion, and the words "Where dwell the brave at heart". Harry smiled, and continued reading.

In the parcel marked "Two," you will find something that may appeal to your more material desires. I couldn't help but notice the fact that all of your Muggle clothing is around five sizes too big. I hope this helps.

In this parcel was five pairs of designer pants, and shirts (all designer Muggle clothes) that matched them. He smiled, shaking his head as he held one of the shirts at arm's length. For a pureblood, he (or she) had amazing fashion taste. He went back to the letter.

In the parcel marked three, you will find a plethora of very unhealthy things that I know you love. You absolutely need to gain some weight. I had no idea that you got so little to eat. I'll send you more when you run out, dear.

Grinning, he opened it to find it stuffed with treacle tarts, Butterbeer, Bernie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Fizzing Whizbees and enormous slabs of Honeydukes chocolate. He thought back to the term of endearment. Dear. It must have been sent by a female admirer. Harry looked back at the letter for any last words, and perhaps a signature. He got both.

I will not be able to speak to you during the school year, though I will try my best to be kinder than usual, my dear. We haven't really spoken, but I've been unpleasant when we have. I really do apologize, dear, and I hope you will forgive me.

Thinking of you always and wishing you well, my love.

M

M? That was all he had to go on? It could be a last name, first name, nickname...how was he to know? He fell asleep half an hour later, still wondering...who was M?