So, here is the first chapter to my first Harry Potter fanfiction :) hope you like it!


Chapter One
Dear Diary

Dear Diary,
It's been a weird couple of days

Cross that out

Dear Diary,
…so…hi?

Cross that out

Dear Diary,
I wish I knew what to freaking write!

Cross that out

Dear Diary,
...okay, I've wrote that a lot now

CROSS THAT OUT

Dear Diary,
Dear Merlin this is bloody ridiculous.
Haha! Dear Merlin, I doubt Merlin wants to know agghhh!

FREAKING SCRIBBLE ALL OVER IT!

"Ginny!" I huffed, and looked up at her from the leather bound book she had given me full of blank pages…well, apart from the first one. Blank, just like my mind. "This is stupid. I don't know what to write, I don't know who I'm supposed to be talking to, I feel like a complete idiot." I slammed the quill down on her desk and snapped the book shut. "I'm not doing it."

Ginny didn't even lift her eyes from the photo album she was cradling in her lap on her bed. "Then don't do it." She murmured.

Huh. That seemed too easy.

I was right. She continued.

"You can just be stuck like this forever, I don't care. Doesn't bother me, it's not my life."

I heaved a big sigh and buried my face in my folded arms now leaning on the desk.

Ginny gave a small sigh of sympathy and said softly, "Look, don't think of it as writing to a person, you're meant to be doing this for yourself you are the only person ever going to read this – unless of course you want somebody else to read it but that's totally up to you, I'm not – "

Her rambling cut off abruptly when I glanced up at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Just…write whatever comes into your head."

"That's the problem, nothing is coming into my head. As soon as I put quill to parchment my mind goes as blank as when I first woke up." I muttered irritably.

"Well then maybe that's what you should write about."

"What?"

"Waking up." At my vacant stare she said, "Write about when you first opened your eyes, what you thought, what you felt."

I chewed on my bottom lip not feeling at all comfortable with that, I didn't think I was a very touchy-feely-emotional person. Yeah, that's right, I didn't think I was. Truthfully I had no idea.

Ginny, who seemed to understand – though I had no idea how yet was eternally grateful – smiled gently. "Just put the quill to the parchment and let your hand guide you. My suggestion, is that you start at the beginning."

I nodded once. The beginning, that always was a good place to start. Something flashed through my mind at the speed of light, it wasn't exactly a thought, nor was it a solid memory, I didn't know how to describe it. It was almost like something I had remembered. There was a glimpse of green eyes and scruffy hair, everything was sort of white and clean and something about a story.

I shook it off and put quill to parchment just as Ginny had said. I paused, This is for me, nobody else. This is for me, nobody else. It was almost a mantra and with that in mind I began to write.

Dear Diary (a.k.a me!)

This is the beginning: my name is Amy, I am sixteen years old and I am a witch.

Aside from that I don't remember anything, anything at all. I don't remember Ginny despite apparently having known her – and been best friends with her – since I was eleven years old.

I don't remember Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny's parents, but they're awfully nice and I like them a lot. They've got a great house, too – The Burrow. Ginny said I've been here loads of times, she said it was the first part of the wizarding world I had ever encountered, apart from Diagon Alley, of course.

I don't remember The Burrow or Diagon Alley. Well, I sort of remember Diagon Alley, I can't remember actually physically being there myself but I can see it in my minds eye – the cobbled street, the bustling shoppers, the magical shops themselves and not forgetting Gringotts the wizard bank.

That's sort of how I see Hogwarts, as well. I can't recall ever actually being there or any of the people but I know what it looks like. I remember the Quidditch pitch, Ginny said I played Chaser along with her for our House – Gryffindor, apparently – I can hear cheers and shouts and screams and groans of a crowd but I can't see any faces, and I can't remember flying.

The Great Hall, I can smell the food, see the golden plates and goblets, hear the chatter of students but its all a sea of faceless blurs and its like I'm looking into someone else's mind.

I can feel the coldness of the dungeons, the warmth of a cosy four-poster with red drapes. I can feel the magic of Hogwarts buzzing like a live wire coming from students and teachers and the castle itself. I can hear the snores and disgruntled groans of portraits disturbed from their midnight slumber by the light of a lone wand, I can hear the complete and peaceful silence as the entire castle – except one – sleeps.

I can feel all of this, I can hear these things, I can picture them but I can't see faces, I can't even see bodies, if I'm lucky I can see smudges of colour but that's about it.

Ginny's trying to help me remember, she has album upon album of photos of our school life together and she even has one of my own – which I was completely unaware I had.

Ginny and/or I are in all of them, some of us together, some of us with other people – our friends, apparently. But there are also a fair few with three other people who Ginny says we're really close to.

In these pictures there's a tall, gangly ginger boy – blatantly Ginny's brother, her family are all redheads – she says his name is Ron. There's also a girl with bushy brown hair, Hermione, Ginny says she's really clever and she Ron argue a lot.

And then there's another boy with a mess of black scruffy hair and blazing emerald eyes – like mine. Ginny says he's my brother. Ginny says his name is Harry Potter.

But I don't remember him.

I didn't remember him when he cried and begged and pleaded with me the other day when I woke up, insisting I was messing around, insisting I was being stupid, sobbing about how I was the only one he had left.

I cried too.

My eyes stung and my chest ached as this boy cried for me, cried in pain because I couldn't remember him. I tried, I tried so hard but I couldn't do it. I couldn't remember him.

All I could remember was the inside of a cupboard.

The cupboard in the kitchen.


So...what do you think?

The whole "cross out, cross out, cross out" thing wasn't at all planned. I actually used the strikethrough thing before realising FF didn't actually have that.

It's my first Harry Potter fanfiction but its been in my head for quite a while...well ever since I reread the books and wondered what would have happened if Harry had had a sibling.

Anyway, let me know if this is something I should continue.

Review :)