Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That honor belongs to J.K.R.
A/N: Sort of an experiment for me. I've been writing bits and pieces of it on the bus when I'm going to work. Before anyone asks or complains, most, if not all of this story will take place in journal format. Lucius is going to be Harry's adoptive father for anyone that noticed the main character's on top. No pairings. Feedback is welcome and appreciated!
Eighth Summer (Sanctuary date: June 19, 1996)
I still don't know why I'm doing this really. I suppose it's because Zane was always writing in his own journal and with his death I've realized that all that's left of him is what we, his friends and family remember of him. All that's left of him is us and his journals. We're the only ones who will know or remember how he would spend hours writing down his thoughts and experiences in his little black journals, sitting in the shade of the cherry trees. No one else will remember how every time he stepped out of the gates that he was saving countless lives. No one will remember the way his shaggy brown hair would flop in his eyes when he was embarrassed. And in a hundred years no one will remember his sacrifices, how much blood he spilt to protect us from those that wish us dead. It got me thinking: what will people think of all of us when we're all gone? When we're long dead, and everyone that knew us and our stories are gone, will they curse our names? Condemn us as the ones that helped ruin the world? Or will they praise us for surviving where others gave up, where others failed and let them win? It's a disturbing thought that once we're gone our stories will be twisted and contorted to suit whoever seizes power. Or even worse that they'll be lost forever.
So this is my contribution to the cause I suppose you could say. Though if we could be called a cause is debateable. Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Harry James Potter Malfoy and I'm fifteen years old. I'm sure just now at least 90 of the people who opened this to read closed it after finding out my age (and some my name). Really adults don't give teens enough credit though. I'm sure your wondering why someone my age would be given such a valuable looking book to write my inane childish thoughts. Well that's father's fault mostly. When he discovered what I planned on doing he suggested that I should make this more than just a journal in remembrance of my fallen friend. Although no culture still existing is unfamiliar with written works, there are few that have either the time, resources, or knowledge to write out our history. In this day and age paper is a difficult resource to come by if you aren't magical, and too many that are magical prefer languishing in their ignorance rather than writing the truth. And I'm rambling again aren't I? It seems like a bad habit of mine. I told father he should have done this himself. Give me teams to lead, or people to organize, and I'm straight to the point, but give me paper and quills and I go on and on. To put it simply I'm writing this to explain the why, how, when, where, and who. Why our world is the way it is now. Who was responsible for it becoming this godforsaken wasteland (but really who isn't?). How they went about ruining our world. When it happened. Where it all took place, and finally this is dedicated to Zane. Our beloved brother, father, uncle, friend, leader, and shoulder to cry on. I write this so no one will forget you. So that your story may live on forever. We miss you.
Review please!