Disclamer: I don't own anything etc.
THE LOST DIARIES OF A TORMENTED SOUL.
PROLOGUE.
Harry sighed as he ruffled through the various parchments that had fallen out of the crammed shelf but none of them was what he was looking for. He wondered again on why Dumbledore kept so much stuff, none of this could be of any use to anyone. Scraps of information about a detention, a note confirming an attendance to a ball held in 1930! Harry dumped them down among the rest of the rubbish that was accumulating. Then, as he glanced back at the shelf, something caught his eye. A peeling faded spine on a thick, dark book covered in dust leapt out at him and he carefully removed it from the shelf. He rubbed his hand across the top to reveal the name but it was blank. He slid down into the chair beside him intend in pursuing the book in detail, there was something about it that was intriguing.
"Harry?" a voice shouted. "Harry! Dinner's ready, mum says you've to come immediately."
Harry trundled downstairs and into the kitchen. Ron, who had called him, was sitting at the table shovelling food into his mouth. Hermione, who sat beside him, was glaring at him spraying food everywhere. Harry slid into his seat. Mrs Weasley was busy at the sink. Ginny was curled up in an armchair; her ankle was propped up on what looked like all the cushions in the house. She had tripped on her way down the stairs while carrying some boxes. Mrs Weasley had already mended the cuts and bruises but couldn't tend to sprained ankles. Ginny was reading The Daily Prophet with much distain. It was becoming harder and harder to distinguish fact from fiction in it and the writers were never trusted. Harry received he mountain of food from Mrs Weasley and began to eat.
"How's the search going, Ron?" he asked in between mouthfuls.
"Nof glug," he replied, his mouth full of mashed potato.
"I beg your pardon?" enquired Hermione.
"Not good, how's yours?" Ron said when he swallowed.
"It's going nowhere. I don't know how we will find it," Harry replied mournfully.
"Well we are just going to have to keep at it, there is nothing else to do," replied Hermione sighing.
"That's right my dears, now eat up, you still have lots of work to do, Ron! Where are your manners? Don't do that again! Would you like some more potato Harry?" Mrs Weasley asked while filling his plate with peas.
"No, Mrs Weasley, I couldn't possibly eat that much!" Harry said, alarmed.
"Nonsense dear, of course you will, searching for things is very hard work, you have surely worked up an appetite," replied Mrs Weasley.
"Anything in the Prophet, Ginny?" asked Hermione.
"No, nothing of use, more death eater attacks and a nasty story about a village in Surrey but its probably false," she replied, closing the newspaper. Crookshanks took this opportunity to jump onto her lap and Ginny scratched his ears thoughtfully.
After managing to eat three courses of Mrs Weasley's cooking Harry returned upstairs. He was glad to return to peace and quiet again even if it did bring back memories that he did not want to see. Memories of Professor Dumbledore and the Astronomy Tower were the reoccurring ones at the moment. Ron and Hermione also returned to their searches and in a few minutes quiet returned to the house. Harry glanced around the room, looking for something to jump out at him and something did. The book he had left on the table. He slid into the seat.
He opened the cover slowly. But he gasped in astonishment at the writing inside. He recognised that writing, he'd recognise it anywhere. The same writing helped him all the way through potions last year. He slammed the book shut, at look of disgust forming on his face. He never wanted to see that writing again, let alone the hand behind it. "Why would Dumbledore have this?" he thought. Nothing in his mind could imagine why Dumbledore would be interested in something he wrote. But logic slowly crept in, as if afraid to show himself. He would have had it to understand him. Dumbledore wanted to understand him. Maybe that's why he gave him a second chance. Maybe his reason is in here somewhere. He eyed the book in a way similar to the way Uncle Vernon eyed him but he couldn't hold it for long. "Why would Snape write in a book?" he thought. "What could he be hiding?"
Harry took a deep breath before opening the book again and began to read.